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Reflections by Rev. Phil Pharisee

Many of you have asked: Rev. Phil, do fish have souls? Well, haven’t you ever heard of filet of sole. Ha Ha. Listen, brothers and sisters, I haven’t a clue. My sermon this week is about drive trains and sluggish transmissions but I’ll give it a whirl.

Here’s the hook: If earwigs, flies, spiders and prairie dogs have souls why wouldn’t fish be equally equipped?

Just because they are cold-blooded doesn’t mean they cannot go on to another life. Should we eat them? Why not? They don’t care. Once they’ve been caught they’re pretty much washed up anyway. Bear eat them and so do a lot of other animals. It’s all part of the food cycle, much like our own processed frozen food aisles.

Actually fish have it petty easy just so long as they aren’t gobbled up by other fish. While spawning is immoral laying eggs is perfectly all right. Catching trout with a license is ridiculous. They like worms and salmon eggs far better. Should you use a boat? Sure, just as long as you do not entertain obscene thoughts out on the lake. Walking on the water is out, at least for now.

The other night when I was in conference with you know who he told me, “Chill, Phil. I can really get behind the people who help themselves and don’t bother me with all their petty problems, their mindless situations. There’s just too much doing onto one and other without facing the consequences. The hot seat is in store for a lot of them who think they have secured a first class ticket going up. I think another Spanish Inquisition would clear the air…”

Candid enough. So fish do have souls. Now tickle that collection plate and get on with life. You folks in the first pew now shall be in the back of the bus later. The tweaked will inherit the earth. Adieu.

Colona Wins Slogan Contest

(Hwy 550) The non-town of Colona has claimed a $50 prize in a prestigious national slogan-writing contest sponsored by the Billboard Diplomacy Enrichment Trust. Colona’s entry “Welcome to Colona – Leave Us Alona” brought down the house as judges were beside themselves to decide on a winner and write the check.

“It’s rare to see an entire community get behind an effort like this,” said a BDET source.

Residents in the small Rocky Mountain town plan to get together and vote on whether to use the money to pave two dirt streets within the confines of the settlement, which does not technically constitute a town since it has no post office, fire hydrants or local government of which to speak. The meeting has been scheduled for April of 2018 when “everyone is not so busy”. In the meantime the yet to be endorsed $50 check will be kept in a safe in the old slaughterhouse facility adjacent to the abandoned grocery next to where the railroad depot once stood.


(Ed note: In the following segment the reader may notice different sounds accompanying different flat tires. This could have to do with the blazing hot asphalt or maybe it’s what I remember the sounds to be.)

My Chevy pickup died in Galveston. It sounds like a country song but it was real. I had driven down here to go to the wedding of a good friend and the truck, which had been so reliable in the past, suddenly had turned on me.

There was nothing left to do but stick out my thumb in the muggy Texas heat on lovely Interstate 10. I quickly got a ride in a semi to the town of Gonzalez where Willie Nelson just happened to be having a party. It looked like a pleasant detour especially when I saw the line-up of Ernest Tubb. Kris Kristofferson. Rita Coolidge, Jerry Jeff Walker, Leon Russell, Ray Wiley Hubbard, George Jones plus Willie and Waylon Jennings and more.

After two days of beer, blood and music I left Gonzalez and headed back on the road. In moments a rough 1970 ford Galaxy pulled over. He had a sizzled flat tire and we started talking while he fixed it. His name was Carlos. His family came from somewhere in Sonora and he lived in San Antonio where I had hoped to stay for the night.

With the tire repaired we headed west. I had noised that all the other tires (Carlos had no spare of course) looked like prophylactics. Soon, from my shotgun seat, everything appeared in order but that was not to be.

“Pop!” There went the rear tire on the driver’s side and the car crawled to the side of the road again. “Damn” cursed Carlos who looked at me half laughing and half crying. “I should have brought a spare.

We removed the tire and Carlos went into Sequin, Texas to have it repaired.

“You don’t have to stay here and wait for me,” he smiled.

“Someone has to watch the car while you are in town,” I said.

“Why?” he asked. It’s not going anywhere.”

In about an hour he returned and found me still there. We installed the newly patched tire and went on our way. Before long we were approaching Santa Clara and a distinct wobble began to emerge from under the car.

“It’s just the drive train or maybe the transmission,” said Carlos. “I’m not too worried. We are almost there.”

As the skyline of San Antonio came into view another loud Whop was detected over the blasting radio. Now Carlos was pissed. three flats in 120 miles! We went through the same charade as before with Carlos taking the flat to a gas station on Yucca Street near Artesia.

I waited, keeping an eye out for the many thieves that would love to steal his beat-up wreck with bad tires. He returned in the company of a mechanic he knew from high school who frowned and lent him a spare. We were in San Antonio.

“Do you like enchiladas? he asked.

“Yes, very much I replied.

“Good. We we’ll go to my parents’ house for dinner. He pulled over to a phone booth and called his family to announce he was bringing a guest to dinner.

Arriving at his home I met his mother and father and feasted on chili rellenos, refried beans, fresh tortillas and cheese enchiladas. He told them of our adventures and they stared at him like he was nuts. His mother insisted I eat more and, not wanting to create a negative cultural incident I downed another enchilada. It was now dark.

“I will give you a ride to the river where you can find a hotel,” he said. “This neighborhood is no place for you after dark.”

To my great relief he borrowed his father’s car and drove me downtown to the San Antonio River. In just moments I heard “Where y’all going?” sweetly sang out. That’s when I met two exotic dancers who invited me home, but that is another story.

It was all like a distorted James Joyce novel set in the heat of summer in south Texas. Just like Ulysses it had all happened in just one day.

Pentagon to Release Cartoon Show

(Arlington, VA) What ever happened to the refined violence common to Sylvester the Cat and Tweety Pie? Wasn’t the punch of Mighty Mouse enough to inspire primitive instincts in children? Apparently not.

This morning the Pentagon, frustrated over what members say is “no more than animated Congressional grandstanding,” has announced the completion of its first cartoon pilot entitled Bazooka Joe and Friends. It will air this weekend.

The cartoon, which features military tactics that might impress the likes of Napoleon, is the brainchild of General Worthington Bulbous, the 300-pound war horse/illustrator who has given himself so many battlefield commendations (right there from his desk drawer) that he can barely stand. He even wears the medals to bed. Aides say its the shear weight of his accomplishments, and not the Old Forester from the night before, that causes him to be so difficult in the morning. Either way, the man has enough brass to construct a suspension bridge across the Potomac.

The cartoon cast, all of them volunteers, reside in the endless system of Pentagon tunnels attempting to evade the alien oil creatures from the planet Opaque, who seek to pacify them. If the story line isn’t original the level of violence certainly is, leading to concerns on the part of parents and teachers that the show is destructive.

“Bazooka Joe sends the wrong message to our kids,” said Patsy Paste-Smith, a principal at Lee Harvey Oswald Junior High, in suburban Virginia. These cartoons are far too life-like and far to itchy to pull the nuclear trigger.”

Sources at the Pentagon defend the program in that it may work well as a recruiting tool and gives the military a safe place to test weaponry.

“Bazooka Joe is the perfect recruiter,” said Bulbous. “Just watch his tear-jerking plea convincing the other cartoons to get up and fight! We want to educate the kids as to the advantages of war while they’re still young enough to enjoy it in its purist form. Explosions, dematerializing and capitulation to fire power are part of their sacred legacy here in these United States,” said the general.

A stunning cameo, by Uncle Scam himself, will highlight the first episode while the inventive neutron bomb ring and decoder will be featured down the road.

All profits from the broadcast will be used to paint the Pentagon camouflage as a defense against the imagined incursions of guerrillas operating out of the Zoological Gardens somewhere north or south of here.

-Suzie Compost


(Denver) The Denver Broncos today signed veteran right tackle Walter Buffalo to a series of one-year contracts with stunted yet lucrative incentives. Saying that the team had been hard pressed to find a healthy human to do the job, a spokesman for the player personnel office assured fans that Walter was capable of performing at NFL levels.

“He didn’t play a down of high school ball because he didn’t go to high school,” said Anwar Tripuka. “His college career, as a “Colorado” Buffalo, was cut short because of grades and conflicting dietary plateaus at Boulder.”

Ed, as his teammates call him, is somewhat concerned about playing on astroturf which he feels is a dangerous waste of talent. Unlike most NFL defenses he is currently having a problem with the Broncos’ intricate offensive scheme.

“At first nobody wanted to room with him on the road because of…uh…the hair and all,” said Tripuka, “but his stunning personality has won out over any negative considerations at play.”

Walter is the first resident of the Southeast Asia to suit up in the professional ranks. His ability, marred to a certain extent because of social mores, seems to be highlighting itself at the end of each practice where he is clearly searching for spiritual meaning in playbooks and challenging running backs at the line of scrimmage.

Rocky Flats

House Votes to Raise Ceiling

(Denver) The Colorado House voted overwhelmingly today to raise the ceiling in its historic Molly Brown Chambers. The blueprint calls for an extra three feet to be built into the existing framework giving elected officials more room to dramatize, wave their hands about, point the finger at opponents, and even filibuster.

“It takes a lot of room to filibuster,” reminded Rep. Gwenne Sprawl (R- Aurora). “Our task is difficult but everyone here favors expansion of one kind or another.”

Contractors, double-dipping as trades lobbyists, suggested that the creation of extra space will allow  Representatives more room in which to leave issues up in the air. In addition the new anatomy will allow for the display of Native American artifacts and photos of such Colorado standouts as Kit Carson, John Evans and the late Red Miller.

“And the acoustics are far better which might come in handy when someone wants to make a point or play a tune on the old trombone,” laughed a Finnish carpenter attempting to manipulate the over 500 yards of Latvian lattice trim implants that will cap the erection.

I hope we don’t run into structural problems,” continued Sprawl. The first estimates clearly indicate that the whole project would require a simple retaining wall covered up with drywall and a few coats of paint. Our budget cannot withstand any more surprises.”

While debate rages as to the color of the new paint, the House has tabled discussion on such tired topics as crime, pollution, dogs at large, education standards, the Bronco pass rush, overflowing landfills, the price of gasoline, water issues, chuckholes and a UN sanctioned invasion of Wyoming.

“We’re working on a strict deadline here and hope to complete construction by July 4th,” said an aluminum blinds contractor. “We may have to work right along with lawmakers on this one.  We’ll try not to make too much noise while the legislators are in session.”

– Small Mouth Bess