A Load of Hooey Read Online Free PDF Page A

What…are you…the pope?”
    He laughed aloud, right in my face, at the notion. Here I was, having been farted upon and laughed at all in the space of a few seconds. I felt smaller than a raisin—a small raisin.
    â€œAre you, then, something greater than the pope?”
    To this He gave no answer but just shook his head in dismay, as if to say, “Shut up about the pope, okay? Just don’t bring it up again. Thanks.”
    Now, our encounter lasted but a few seconds, and yet they seemed like an eternity. Not a long eternity—not like He bored me. More like a short eternity that was impressive and awe-filled—the good qualities of an eternity.
    In the course of our afternoon together, He had many things to share with me. I don’t expect it would be easy for you to believe me, but I offer as proof a stone tablet that He wrote for me, right there, using his blazing finger. On it He wrote a simple truth that I took to mean all other truths were enwrapped within it. He wrote: “Thou shalt proceed with grace and beneficence upon theearth from here onwards, and thy people shall follow thee until the golden gates of tomorrow’s tomorrow.” At reading this, He could see my consternation, so He erased it! You heard me, He WROTE something into STONE, then He erased it from the stone. Like it was nothing. Like it was paper. But this was stone! MUCH harder to write on, and almost impossible to erase. Then He rewrote his command: “Get it together and we can do amazing things.” This I understood, and I happily accepted the stone to bring as proof of my bona fides.
    Small sidetrack: the stone never made it back. Halfway home I realized I was tired and my elbow was throbbing so I buried it. I cannot tell you where, because I did not mark it in case some thieves came along looking for stones that were written on that they could get and sell. But it’s there. I don’t mind if you look for it. You can look for as long as you want. That could be a good thing for you to do, actually, just keep looking. I’d appreciate it.

    unplugged, unhappy
    But be not saddened, for there was another proof forthcoming. A gold parchment upon which was written a directive to us. I held it in my hands and rubbed it with my fingers and sniffed it with my nose and I tell you it felt like parchment paper and smelled like parchment paper—kind of a machinelike smell, but very “parchmenty,” if you know what I mean. Upon it was written, in bold serifed lettering: “Be Kind Unto Each Other.” Now, I’m sure we’ll be parsing that command for millennia to come, but to me it means to have athought for your fellow man, and not just friends or others who do you a solid. I believe He implied (by NOT being particular) that we should strive to be kind to ALL “others,” including enemies and jerks. In fact, one could argue at great length and in a series of what I will call “epistles” that this statement can be shown to contain multitudes and it will demand multitudinous study and endless parsing. At least I hope so.
    Where is this golden parchment? I forgot it where I was. My arms were full at the time, with the stone tablets and the golden plates.
    Did I mention the golden plates? He gave me two of them as incontrovertible proof of his realness. Two the size of a ruler in length and half a ruler in width (twelve by six inches or so). Beautiful, shining, made of pure gold. On these were written nothing. He didn’t want to deface them. However, when I asked if there was anything He would have written on them if He weren’t so delicate of sensibility, He responded (not with words, but with telepathy): “Yes, I should like to fill them with rules of behavior and the proper dressing of food, as well as a laundry list of manners, and, finally, a few how-tos on killing one’s enemies and burying the bodies in a crouching position. The list is long,