Friday, September 03, 2004
Is That A Radio I Hear?
I still can't figure out what I'm--experiencing, if that's the right word for it. There's some sort of light filtering in here, but it doesn't seem to come through the eyehole I occasionally see something out of. I still can't move.
If this is a human-shaped body suit, I don't fill it. I'm stuck in some tiny mechanical nook somewhere. Either this suit is something Moses' Colossus on the Mount stepped out of before getting in the shower--I mean Yahweh, of course, standing seventy feet tall and thundering at puny Moses--or I've been shrunk down to the size of a bent paper clip.
And it's like a radio is playing somewhere far off--but sounding from within my head. First I listen to some inane commercial about uvula enhancement, whatever the hell that means, then the bouncy commercial breaks off and some weird hoarse-voiced singer starts plucking some kind of string instrument I never heard before and, accompanied by what sounds like a crow cawing, sings:
Oh Zeus is a fucker, yes sirree,
He'd as soon fuck a swan as a shoe or a tree,
But that ol' Yahweh he don’t fuck at all
On account a cuzza how he ain't got no balls.
El-o-him ain't got no balls
El-o-her don't fuck at all
Well the virgins say sir and the virgins say please
But Mr. Elohim ain’t slidin no wheeze!
Now Bacchus is a bastard, yes it’s true
And he'll pump your butt full of slimy goo
But that Holy Ghost is such a bore
He'd talk the skank right off an Egyptian whore
El-o-him is such a bore
El-o-her skank off a whore
The zombies say sir and the zombies say please
But all that Ghost's a-slingin is rancid cheese!
Ialdabaoth was a momzer, yes he was
Cuzza demiurge'll do what a demiurge does
But now sweet Jesus’d put ol' Beelzebub
Up for membership in the Rotary Club
El-o-him ol' Beelzebub
El-o-her at the Rotary Club
Jerome says sir and Jerome says please
But Jesus says "buddy take a gander at these!"
El-o-us he’d shake your hand
El-o-them in the Promised Land!
Epiphanny says sir, Epiphanny says please
But Jesus just says "take a gander at these!"
This must be hell. I can think of no other explanation. Because, you see--I wrote that. Or, well, Bill and I did. It's from a novel we wrote called LXX, about the translation of the Hebrew Bible into Greek in Alexandria, Egypt, in 281 B.C. Could I have died and been sent to hell for that? And now, this is my punishment--to be reduced to the size and musculature of a used rubber and jammed in this hole, where I have to listen to my own clever blasphemies and stupid commercials for all eternity?
B-but--we never even published the novel!