Exact Plan

A man approaches. A fearsome gaunt figure stands at the ready on what seems to be an innocent wooded path. A sword of fabulous light is drawn casting its perimeter into shadows. It is dusk and the man does not hesitate armored in only an Irish cable knit sweater, Lee jeans, a leather vest crafted in Pakistan, and leather sneakers. The messenger of the light beckons for him to stop or else face sudden death.

“Hey Charlie, can we stop the dramatics? We only been doing this now for, what, a little over 30,000 years?” says the man in the sweater.

“I know but it is my job, you know.” says the man with the still blazen sword.

“Can you douse that thing Rudolph. Right! I come here every ten years or so to see if I can stroll down the garden path, what do you do in the mean time? I mean Gabriel kicked us out and has posted you here ever since, Can’t do his own dirty work. Destroyer of cities and great mistakes, remember those giant chickens, I think they were called dinosaurs, well you remember it took Gabe over fifty years to kabob that lot and fricassee them. Only if the Colonel was alive.”

“Why do you go on about time, you know it does not exist for us.”

“Well I prefer it, it keeps my head straight, but to the point are you going to let me in this time!”

“Did you not just ask me that just ten minutes ago?”

“No that was ten years ago!”

“Oh right, I never got that thing right, it is a hard concept for me.”

“So you agree to time?”

“No,…!”

“Then why did you accuse me of just being here ten minutes ago, in that statement you acknowledge the existence of time or else you would not use it in your accusation?”

“I was just using it in the temporal standpoint…”

“The prefix of temp as in tempo, or temporary refers to time once more, are you a bit confused old man!”

“No, you know what I mean..”

“Just because I ate of the apple does not mean I know everything. But since time is irrevelant as you say to us, you know very well that you will eventually let me pass and everything is honky dory, so why can not that time be now. If all moments run continuous in the same space and time, why ain’t the moment you let me by not be the same as this singular moment that we both know to be all time. Including the moment you let me through, which is the same as now!”

“All right, go on pass.”

“Thanks Charlie.”

“Right, don’t mention it, say hi to Pops for me, I hope he won’t be too mad with me.”

“Hey he did tell you guys to serve me any hows, right! Remember the war and all, how that statement didn’t set well for all.”

The man in the sweater proceeded on down the dusky wood, for the right path was found. The woods emptied onto a garden path blocked by a high retaining wall with no gate.

“Sheep tricks will not work on a shepherd, now really!” the wall had a spot where an opening was cut into the wall at a forty five angle making the opening invisible to any one looking at it straight on but becomes visible as seen from an angle.

“Eden, it looks much better than Baghdad is of late. Now where is that tree?”

“Halt, who goes there. It is forbidden to all to enter, for certain death shall follow!”

“Dad, get off the soap box, it is ok to be short, leave that trick for Dorothy and her friends.”

“You spoiled little brat, how is the world of basket weaving treating you?” Says Yahweh.

“Look it ain’t basket weaving, it is synchratic weaving, making all the coincidences string togethor to lead people to certain inalienable truths that…”

“Basket weaving, when are you going to get a real job. When are you going to be the tyrant of your own universe, God knows I need a break…”

“Dad, are we going to go through this again, see I am here for that tree..”

“The tree that I forbidden you to eat from, isn’t anything sacred, with the help of that astral minded interferer, you already were duped by that woman to eat from the first tree, where is that being now any ways…”

“She is at home taking doses of Prozac, she has had a bum deal from the whole thing, man I preferred the days of Sodom and Haight ashbury, now them were some good drugs, man that shit makes me hunt out some sheep, because she is no help anymore. Can we lay up on the women for a change, or you still not talking to Best a Mom?”

“Do not mention that infernal woman’s name in my …”

“I guess that answers my question, see Pop I buried the axe a long time ago even though part of my brain says it should of been in yours, but it is over, I learned a few things from those guys down there you keep interfering with, Christ is sick of patching up your shit, man seven days was a bit of a rush job, Hey!”

“Don’t go on about that…”

“Only a C on your College boards, hey, good thing you gave those beings some intelligence, but too bad you gave them your psychosis as well, some of them are real greedy bastards. When are you going to realize that happiness does not come from how many black holes and stars that you can Nova, but from within, Best a Ma is just feeling a bit separated from you…”

“Do not mention …”

“What, Best a ma, Best a MA, Best a Ma…”

“So you want the tree, I already gave it to Chipendale to make a lovely end table.”

“Oh move out of my way..”

“Or else…”

“Or else we can shine a bright light upon you and you can play with your shadow, Hey Luce, are you there?”

Adam pulls out a giant mag light and shines it on his father casting dark shadows on the wall. Out of the one to the left appears an impish person, about the same height and built as Yahweh, but more acute angles rendering his drawn face terminating in a Mephistocles beard and mustache.

“Ah, Adam it has been a long time since Sodom, how is the misses, are you still playing with those sheep, the cliff and all, hear they are jolly good that way, still trying to get out of your father’s shadow, feeling a little inadequate..”

“Get off of it, the two of you are so inept in the endowment area you had to scour the earth to find one woman who would be pleased by the two and a half inches the two of you could muster up. Good thing for wet dreams hey, I think you guys put the truth in advertising, politics, and used cars. Talk about wild fish stories…”

“I see you have not accomplished much, nephew! Still running with those apes?”

“Hey wasn’t you I saw a few years ago do the funky tango with that green monkey!”

“Hey J, how bout me and you finding some Job character and torment him some….”

“Son, now I mean everything in your best interest..”

“Best interest, I was very content picking up berries and painting on cave walls until you took me away from all of that , just on the account that I looked up into the sky and asked why, to tell the truth I think I was just mumbling something in response to indigestion, and Off I am whooshed to this garden only to be kicked out so you can rip a rib out of me so you could transform it into someone who gets a bum rush deal and gets strung out on Prozac and forces, yes Luc, to play with the sheep after she yells my head off for no good reason and….”

“Are you done!”

“Yeah!”

“Good…”

“Now where is that tree..”

The man in the Irish knit cable sweater heads out to the center leaving the dynamic duo to themselves. After some walking he hears the uncanny tune of Look On the Bright Side of Life and enters the clearing as he sees a man in a tree house singing the verse..”Life is a piece of shit, when you look at it..”

“Oh excuse me, I did not see you coming, would you like some tea, my are you looking fine as of late! Have I ever thanked you for caring me over that ocean, or I Have, well thanks again, I always did prefer the name St. Christopher, so how have you been, I always knew you would come.”

“So this is where you been hanging out at?”

“No, I just knew today was the day and I wanted to return to the place of our first meeting, you know your father only means well, it is just that Sophia just bums around to herself up there. Stuck between here and there, Very straight forward thinker, that is her problem can not think in circular motions of events. Always point a terminating in point B, very lonely that one is.”

“Any room for them in that tree house of yours?”

“Sure they just have to realize it for themselves, is that incarnation of us writing that story yet?”

” I am pretty sure.”

In a ugly little house on a sinking street that leaves the house settling a little to the right and a little more to the left is a man named Christopher, who at that moment, not the one in which you are reading this but the moment he was writing this as the one in which they had asked if he was, but then as we have seen earlier time for them, or that matter anyone does not really exist, so it is safe to say that this writing was done light years from now or just a few moments ago, but this referencing is inadequate because it uses flawed speech that refers to time that in its self is non-existent…..

“Get on with it” rings in chorus from the heavens…

“Yeah, we just got to get him to hug her.”

“How do we do that, the only words she ever said to him was ‘Liar!’ and that was an end of it.”

” No remember she added he was a minor little psychopomp with a mania problem, I think they were her exact words.”

“Never-less, we need him to hug her. Ever learn anything from Mercury hanging in that threshold?”

“We can try dressing her up as a Cow, which won’t be too hard she has been eating a lot of chocolate and Ben and Jerry’s. Bit depressed you know.”

” A cow?”

“Yeah, one of Mercury’s tricks. Hide a cow in the cave and pretend that it really is a woman that he is hiding from one of his wives so when she finds out she will never know the better he is really tickling some udders. Quite ingenious trick I must say, but he likes cows. I prefer the milk maids myself and a little butter to go on my crepes and a tall drink of milk…”

“Isn’t that a bit of incest.”

“Now how did you populate the world again, Adam.”

“Enough of that, those other cro-mags were not as intellectually stimulating.”

“Well I was planning to stop things before they got that far, Hell I am suppose to marry the old Broad.”

“You old snake you, Christ come down here and lets get started. You think we can get rid of that hormone and bleeding thing with women and go back to the stork, I think they will really like that, I would really like that. For once it would be nice to know what I am getting yelled at for.”

“Sure.”

“Good.”
So Adam and Christ went into the limbo and put Sophia in a cow costume, led Yahweh up there, stopped things from getting kinky and stuck their names onto the family tree of life with the rest of humanity and the species of the earth. Yahweh got his comfort and stopped chasing golden cows, Sophia was able to think in circles and now is racing the Nascar circuit, Jesus is enjoying solitary walks in the Jersey Pine Barrens and dancing at night at the local pub, Adam knows what he is getting yelled at for a change, Eve has put out of business the Tampax company along with prozac and is happy just being, and the stork is real busy once more.

Chris Dowgin is proprietor of Docspond Life Coach Services and Norgeforge Illuminatin Studios

The amazing thing about contemporary American culture is its
predisposition to organize itself into neat little categories.
This “pigeonhole syndrome,” referred to by some as PHS, (not to
be confused with PMS), is responsible for much of the stress in
our society today.

We even categorize this stress, enabling us to compare our
stress with people we meet. Some fear they will one day meet
someone with the same kind of stress as they have and will not
know how to label him or her. Imagine the stress this would
create. Or, visualize a situation where someone meets someone
who has no stress at all.

PHS finds its way into every area of our culture, even the
religious. Nobody in these days of labeling madness can just be
a Christian. Are you Protestant or Catholic?

If you are Protestant what kind? Baptist? Methodist?
Presbyterian? My question is simply, why can’t we just be
Christians?

I was behind an elderly lady at the post office recently and
could not help overhearing the conversation. The lady wanted
stamps.

The Postmaster asked her, “What denomination of stamps would you
like?”

The lady paused for a moment and then replied, “Presbyterian.”

I guess a Presbyterian doesn’t need as much water as, say, a
Baptist.

Cataloging people into convenient groupings is not bad. In fact,
it can be helpful in many ways. I attended a conference last
year where 97 percent of the people were of the non-male
persuasion and believe me when I say classification is important.

Following one session I followed the crowd; not paying too much
attention to where we were going - and ended up in the ladies
restroom. To say they labeled me is putting it mildly.

Women, regardless of what you may have heard to the contrary,
are quite cruel to any man (meaning of course, Yours Truly)
found in the ladies restroom.

During the last days of this election, politicians and pundits
alike are making much of the undecided voter. I like to refer to
these elusive people as the UDVs of our country.

Who are these people and where do they live? Moreover, how long
did it take them to decide where they were going to live?

If UDVs exist at this point in the game, I would not want them
voting for me. Personally, I do not believe in UDVs. In my mind,
it is something the news media invented so they would have
something to talk about, especially these 24-hour cable news
programs.

Having something fresh and interesting to say 24 hours a day,
seven days a week is a lot of airtime to fill. Not to mention
that most (if not all) on-air personnel are full of hot air.

UDVs are only a figment of their tired and stressed imagination,
searching for something new to say about something everyone
already knows. In fact, I think UDVs, the WMDs and Elvis are all
hiding out in Syria.

Putting labels on other people to see where people fit is not
bad, except some people want to include God in this PHS equation
and He does not fit.

Perhaps because we are in an election year, many people ask the
question, “Is God a Democrat or a Republican?” I have never
heard anyone ask if God was an Independent or member of the
Green Party. Maybe they know something about these parties I
don’t.

During an election year, politicians will use anything or anyone
to help their cause. Most politicians need more help in their
cause than even God could give them.

However, some think it important to try to draw God into their
party platform. The further behind they are in the polls the
more they invoke the Almighty on their behalf.

Knowing God as I do, and understanding as much of politics as I
do, no politician in his right mind (and try to find one in his
right or left mind) would even want God on their side. God deals
in absolutes. A thing is absolutely right or it is absolutely
wrong.

Politicians shy away from absolutes.

A politician deals with all things relative and self-serving. If
it does not advance his or her cause, the politician has no
interest in it.

Every political party has its “spin-room.” That’s a place where
they take what was said and spin it around for self-serving
purposes. It all depends, so they all say, on what your
definition of is, is.

I remember the day my mother got her first spin dryer. Up to
that time, she hung all the washing outside to dry in God’s good
sunshine. Then came the spin dryer and it did not matter what
the weather was like outside, my mother could always dry the
wash.

It was great. If some of the clothes were not folded right away
and were wrinkled, she just tossed them into the dryer and,
presto, the wrinkles were gone.

The political “spin-zone” does the very same thing. If a
political candidate says something, immediately it goes into the
spin to get rid of those wrinkles.

God, however, does not work that way. In the Old Testament we
read, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your
ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than
the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts
than your thoughts.” (Isaiah 55:8-9 KJV.)

It is never a question of whether God is on my side, but whether
I am on His side. The only way to get on “God’s side” is through
the Lord Jesus Christ.