The Unveiling Part 4!!!
Are Catholics insane with all their saints representing different concepts and experiences? And what of the Mahayana Buddhists, whose various Bodhisattvas symbolize all stages of humanity’s quest for spiritual perfection? Are they also fucked in their heads?
Ye, ‘tis a long and perilous road we travel when embarking upon a road that neither exists nor seems willing to not exist. For within the hallowed halls of impurity can perfection be found, disseminated, raped and discarded before its inevitable return. Laugh as thou wilt, but know thee that this here shit be the f’real deal, mutha-humpas!!!
Verily dost thy minister struggle daily with the concepts locked herein-and by “herein,” we do mean external. By “External” we do mean what is neither within nor without, unless thou dost shaketh it all about.
Aye, much hath been said on this non-existent topic, yet little is understood. How, the enemies of the righteous ax, can one have no absolute states of being? For what is being if not doing? What is doing without…well, fuck, thou get the point.
To them do I say this most holy thing indeed:
Until thou hast walked a mile in mine loafers, kisseth mine ass!!!
Who art thou to criticize mine perfect and wondrous radiance? Who art thou to not giveth unto me that which hath been demanded…namely, CASH MONEY??? What better use dost thou have of it? Bills? Booze? Broads?
Will those things stave off the gnawing emptiness in thy soul? Wilt thou taketh thy money and receipts with thee when the Big Bad Nada occureth in the ninth year of the fifteenth cycle of the eighth revolution of 12 day intervals of 5000??? Fucketh no!!!
But it shall helpeth me, children! It shall helpeth me Big Time! Thou hast been told this time and again yet the holy bank account is still empty!!!
Just the other day, sitting in a field, staring at the sun, inhaling gasoline vapors from my blessed Toyota was the identity of the next Scribeist Saint revealed unto me. Yet I do hesitate to share his identity with thee...Ye of little faith. How many times hast thou been told to get ridda that shit completely!?
Faith is a symptom of a disease known as “Supplication-itis.” This horrific affliction makes humans feel as if they must justify their very existence or all is for naught.
Those of thee suffering from this awful burden do have mine sympathies and those of the Church, but how in the unwiped ass of universal contentiousness canst I move forward with mine mission knowing that it hath become infected with god-squatters and Jesus Freakers!!!
As thy minister hath said, ya’llz some pretty ungrateful moe-fukas! I’ve half a mind to disregard the new saint and let him return to the Great White Expanse from which sprang Conformity, 2-dimensional thinking, and Soap Operas!!! Let him diminish, for the flock of Scribe hath proved itself unworthy! Let this saint vanish into thin air rather than risk becoming tainted by some sermonizing agent of superstition.
Better that he doth go from this place and return no more. The Church of Scribe is closing its doors!!!
Eventually…
I mean, first we have to sell all this shit…
Cometh thee to the Bargain Basement and enjoy blessed rock bottom prices before all the good stuff hath been grabbed from thee.
For goddamit, if we cannot maketh a profit off thy asses as a functioning religion, we shall damn sure unload unto thee all our useless yet reasonably price crap!!!
Excuse me a moment, por favor…
Ahem-thy attention please, my children!! Um…mine flock?
HEY!!! Put that shit down and listen gods-dammit!!!
Thy latest saint wishes to maketh himself know to thee. Please stop pricing sacrificial altars and pay heed. The original reason for this sermon was to impart unto thee the Way by Which One Can Ignore Extremes, Achieve Balance, and Then Become Pure Chaos.
Sayeth that shit three times fast!
Nothing representeth the Severe Mystery of the spirit essence like one who hast treaded the borders of fame and fortune yet been cast away as an individual of little to no consequence. To have tasted the poisonous nectar of recognizability and to have walked away a living joke, that is the true test of one who exists for our benefit.
Now, please brothers and sisters, Join all interlocking parts, bend over and hum as we welcome the latest in the Scribeist pantheon:
Screech, Patron Saint of Relative Obscurity!!!
Who the fickle fuck is that, thou doth ask? He looks vaguely familiar, thou doth say? Dear God in Heaven it’s coming right for me, thou adds?
Aye, all of the above, children. For this saint was once a mere mortal with a silly voice, enormous chin and hook nose. His task: Comedy relief for the beautiful people. Yet through it all did he persevere and reach the next level: Stand-up Comedy!!! Aye, good ol’ Screech is now being billed as the new Lenny Bruce by…well, himself. The once innocent child of Saved by the Bell fame hath graduated to shock comic, and in so doing hath transcended his mortal trappings to become a guide for us all.
Whether he is found on syndication learning valuable moral lessons like don’t take speed to study, whether he is reprising his role as the white Urkel this time as n adult miraculously working in the same school he attended, Saint Screech takes it all on the chin for us! And what a chin he doth have! I mean, seriously, that thing could slice through time!! WTF-eth???
So all hail this latest saint, for his obscurity doth remindeth us that all is not lost. For we shall never be as pathetic as a walking joke like he!!!
May Chaos and Dis---pardon me?
I would tell thee to hail him, but now I feel the need to go taketh a steamy shower!!!
Ye, ‘tis a long and perilous road we travel when embarking upon a road that neither exists nor seems willing to not exist. For within the hallowed halls of impurity can perfection be found, disseminated, raped and discarded before its inevitable return. Laugh as thou wilt, but know thee that this here shit be the f’real deal, mutha-humpas!!!
Verily dost thy minister struggle daily with the concepts locked herein-and by “herein,” we do mean external. By “External” we do mean what is neither within nor without, unless thou dost shaketh it all about.
Aye, much hath been said on this non-existent topic, yet little is understood. How, the enemies of the righteous ax, can one have no absolute states of being? For what is being if not doing? What is doing without…well, fuck, thou get the point.
To them do I say this most holy thing indeed:
Until thou hast walked a mile in mine loafers, kisseth mine ass!!!
Who art thou to criticize mine perfect and wondrous radiance? Who art thou to not giveth unto me that which hath been demanded…namely, CASH MONEY??? What better use dost thou have of it? Bills? Booze? Broads?
Will those things stave off the gnawing emptiness in thy soul? Wilt thou taketh thy money and receipts with thee when the Big Bad Nada occureth in the ninth year of the fifteenth cycle of the eighth revolution of 12 day intervals of 5000??? Fucketh no!!!
But it shall helpeth me, children! It shall helpeth me Big Time! Thou hast been told this time and again yet the holy bank account is still empty!!!
Just the other day, sitting in a field, staring at the sun, inhaling gasoline vapors from my blessed Toyota was the identity of the next Scribeist Saint revealed unto me. Yet I do hesitate to share his identity with thee...Ye of little faith. How many times hast thou been told to get ridda that shit completely!?
Faith is a symptom of a disease known as “Supplication-itis.” This horrific affliction makes humans feel as if they must justify their very existence or all is for naught.
Those of thee suffering from this awful burden do have mine sympathies and those of the Church, but how in the unwiped ass of universal contentiousness canst I move forward with mine mission knowing that it hath become infected with god-squatters and Jesus Freakers!!!
As thy minister hath said, ya’llz some pretty ungrateful moe-fukas! I’ve half a mind to disregard the new saint and let him return to the Great White Expanse from which sprang Conformity, 2-dimensional thinking, and Soap Operas!!! Let him diminish, for the flock of Scribe hath proved itself unworthy! Let this saint vanish into thin air rather than risk becoming tainted by some sermonizing agent of superstition.
Better that he doth go from this place and return no more. The Church of Scribe is closing its doors!!!
Eventually…
I mean, first we have to sell all this shit…
Cometh thee to the Bargain Basement and enjoy blessed rock bottom prices before all the good stuff hath been grabbed from thee.
For goddamit, if we cannot maketh a profit off thy asses as a functioning religion, we shall damn sure unload unto thee all our useless yet reasonably price crap!!!
Excuse me a moment, por favor…
Yes, sainted one? Thou hast summoned me?
Beg your pardon? But…I
just…right, I know, but…still…are you…oh, you are? Well, thy bidding is mine
duty to realize, but, you know…this is rather fucked up don’t thee think? I just
told all those…yes, I do understand, I’m not a complete idiot!!! “Partial?” Oh,
yeah that’s funny! You’re funnier than Sinbad, y’know that?
Forgive me,
sainted one, but thou did pisseth me off. Ye, thy purpose shall be revealed.
Minister Scribe just wants thee to know that I did lose some major fucking cool
points this day!!!
Ahem-thy attention please, my children!! Um…mine flock?
HEY!!! Put that shit down and listen gods-dammit!!!
Thy latest saint wishes to maketh himself know to thee. Please stop pricing sacrificial altars and pay heed. The original reason for this sermon was to impart unto thee the Way by Which One Can Ignore Extremes, Achieve Balance, and Then Become Pure Chaos.
Sayeth that shit three times fast!
Nothing representeth the Severe Mystery of the spirit essence like one who hast treaded the borders of fame and fortune yet been cast away as an individual of little to no consequence. To have tasted the poisonous nectar of recognizability and to have walked away a living joke, that is the true test of one who exists for our benefit.
Now, please brothers and sisters, Join all interlocking parts, bend over and hum as we welcome the latest in the Scribeist pantheon:
Screech, Patron Saint of Relative Obscurity!!!Who the fickle fuck is that, thou doth ask? He looks vaguely familiar, thou doth say? Dear God in Heaven it’s coming right for me, thou adds?
Aye, all of the above, children. For this saint was once a mere mortal with a silly voice, enormous chin and hook nose. His task: Comedy relief for the beautiful people. Yet through it all did he persevere and reach the next level: Stand-up Comedy!!! Aye, good ol’ Screech is now being billed as the new Lenny Bruce by…well, himself. The once innocent child of Saved by the Bell fame hath graduated to shock comic, and in so doing hath transcended his mortal trappings to become a guide for us all.
Whether he is found on syndication learning valuable moral lessons like don’t take speed to study, whether he is reprising his role as the white Urkel this time as n adult miraculously working in the same school he attended, Saint Screech takes it all on the chin for us! And what a chin he doth have! I mean, seriously, that thing could slice through time!! WTF-eth???
So all hail this latest saint, for his obscurity doth remindeth us that all is not lost. For we shall never be as pathetic as a walking joke like he!!!
May Chaos and Dis---pardon me?
You, uh…you what? You can’t be serious! Really? It’s kind of inappropriateAhem-Saint Screech would liketh thee to know that he will be performing his wacky comedy at the following venue:
and tacky…uh-huh…yes, I know the rules, I made them up! All right, fine!
Ann Arbor Comedy Showcase presents Dustin Diamond.
September 30 & October 1. This comic actor is best known from his role as
Screech in the various Saved by the Bell movies and sitcoms. His stand-up act
features edgy topical and observational comedy. Preceded by 2 opening acts.
Alcohol is served; all 8 p.m. Friday shows are nonsmoking shows. old VFW Hall
(below Seva restaurant), 314 E. Liberty. $14 reserved seating in advance, $16
general admission at the door. 996-9080.
I would tell thee to hail him, but now I feel the need to go taketh a steamy shower!!!
posted by Minister Scribe at 4:27 PM
25 Comments:
May I join thee in this shower, minister?
WOW, THIS WAY WE CAN ALL BE SAVED BY HIS BELL!!! I am all over come with pleasure because of this, and come all over because of the SPUR-M... Next time I'm stuck in a whacky late to class situation, or trying to resurrect a pretty much non-existent, unspectacular career path, I know which saint i shall be praying too.
uh.....he looks like an owl...that's it...a screech owl! So then, is his power stronger at night??
Saint Screech hath no powers, my child.
THAT is his power.
DUDE SCREECH RULES HE'S SO FUNNY AND HANDSOME AND COOL AND EVERYTHING LIKE THAT!!!
Uh-oh, who let the dogs out?
I have written a book or something, my child. It is due to be published at the end of this year. Seriously.
Oh, and thanketh thee for the kind words :)
"You'll tell me if it's any good???" WOW!!!
dabich, my child-Marge Simpson let the dogs out.
DUDE YOUR CUTE AND ALL BUT SHUT UP WHILE MEN ARE TALKING!
Thanks for the support over there at simons shindig Big minister S'. We can become fish food together... Didn'y jesus do somethin li..... Sorry, that was bread and wine, and even then, probably a metaphor... What would Saint Screech give out as a food representing his flesh... uuuummmmmmm... I think.... peanuts. Possibly... Minister???
Please tell Marge to shut up Anon Puppy and don't let it out again!
Thomp, hey, argue with Simon all ya like, Minister'll back ya up, you're one of HIS flock ;)
Flock... never been in a flock before! WOO HOO
anon!!! how dare thee display sexism to a likable broad!!?? I cast thee out!!!
for, like, a couple hours-go buyeth me some doughnuts!!!
Saint screech is too busy pretending to ahve a career to hand out anything, apostle thomp.
rikki,
sicne thou dost enjoy being flocked, would ye liketh to be included in the Church newsletter?
UUUUUMMMMMMMM, Minister darli.... I mean sir... Rikki MAY have been logged on on my computer... I MAY have written that flock thing and not realised it was logged in as her. Personally i blame her... Shall I scorn her in a Scribian biblical manner??? If yes, How exactly is this done?
thou doth entertain the shit out of me thomp.
Would you like me to clean that up for you???
Do you want fries with that?
yes to both qestions.
Fries, coming up.
foam cup at the ready
hmmm, a most holy combo meal.
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