God Told Noah, No More Water, Fire Next Time

I began to doubt this variance in doomsday scenarios today in San Cristóbal de Las Casas with its slavish devotion to the Spanish god that enslaved locals when the locals´ designated Christ fainted along the Calle General Utrilla and the morons playing the Roman Guards had to carry the poor fellow who had had to pretend to be the Christ and his cross to the Barrio Mexicano so they could hang him from a fake cross and what a sorry spectacle that may have been but for the fact that it never took place because the hounds of hell delivered a tremendous thunderstorm that absolutely inundated the town and Jesus and his Dad clearly misread their own menu and rained out their own parade.

We thought we were attending the death of Christ to absolve us of our sins when, in fact, that inundation was God´s warning that he could interrupt our digestive processes at any time that suited "it" and you take it from there.

Shit in your own pants at your leisure and then view your own skid marks as proof you are still on the planet and not maggot bait. Yet.

hound dog wrote:Shit in your own pants at your leisure and then view your own skid marks as proof you are still on the planet and not maggot bait.

I think I'll just stick to "pinching myself", not a loaf, to ensure I'm still here........

Godawlmighty, CB, the rainy season in Highland Chiapas normally starts in Mid-May and the rains are copious and destructive so we leave here about mid-May and drive back to Lake Chapala but it is hard to understand what the flooding rains hereabouts mean in this high-mountain valley and in its adjacent coastal plains in Chiapas and infamously poorly drained Tabasco . The narrow streets in San Cristóbal become raging rivers and the utterly filthy and untreated sewers and valley rivers surrounding the city are flooded with torrents of unspeakably disgusting and dangerous water that can kill you . As we waited through three hours in relative comfort a few blocks from our home while sheets of tropical rains inundated the city, it seemed almost certain that soon the entire Jovel Valley would be a giant sewage sump but then, a soon as the phony Christ procession had been adequately humiliated after those hours of God´s reminding Man of his ineptitude, God gave us a break and Dawg was able to go home and BBQ some fish filets to be enjoyed with a couple of glasses of sauvignon blanc and that made me feel good until I walked back out into the neighborhood plaza and and observed the indigenous waif selling chiclets in a deserted, rain soaked and miserably damp plaza and afraid to go home lest she be beaten within an inch of her life for having returned with chiclets to spare.

Another drink, please.

Bubba, it's good to see that advancing years have yet not robbed you of your legendary ability to speak the King's english.

uj

Uncle Jack wrote:Bubba, it's good to see that advancing years have yet not robbed you of your legendary ability to speak the King's english.

uj

Thank you Jack, old friend. Coming from you that is high praise, now, if I can only remember what it is I said.

Sounds like you are getting baptized by immersion for Easter down there.