Posts Tagged ‘Humanity’
A parable by Rev. Jim Huber (Required reading for Sunday School class.)
This morning there was a knock at my door. When I answered the door I found a well groomed, nicely dressed couple. The man spoke first.
John: Hi! I’m John, and this is Mary.
Mary: Hi! We’re here to invite you to come kiss Hank’s ass with us.
Me: Pardon me?! What are you talking about? Who’s Hank, and why would I want to kiss his ass?
John: If you kiss Hank’s ass, he’ll give you a million dollars; and if you don’t, he’ll kick the shit out of you.
Me: What? Is this some sort of bizarre mob shake-down?
John: Hank is a billionaire philanthropist. Hank built this town. Hank owns this town. He can do whatever he wants, and what he wants is to give you a million dollars, but he can’t until you kiss his ass.
Me: That doesn’t make any sense. Why…
Mary: Who are you to question Hank’s gift? Don’t you want a million dollars? Isn’t it worth a little kiss on the ass?
Me: Well maybe, if it’s legit, but…
John: Then come kiss Hank’s ass with us!
Me: Do you kiss Hank’s ass often?
Mary: Oh yes, all the time…
Me: And has he given you a million dollars?
John: Well… no, you don’t actually get the money until you leave town.
Me: So why don’t you just leave town now?
Mary: You can’t leave until Hank tells you to, or you don’t get the money, and he kicks the shit out of you.
Me: Do you know anyone who kissed Hank’s ass, left town, and got the million dollars?
John: My mother kissed Hank’s ass for years. She left town last year, and I’m sure she got the money.
Me: Haven’t you talked to her since then?
John: Of course not! Hank doesn’t allow it.
Me: So what makes you think he’ll actually give you the money if you’ve never talked to anyone who got the money?
Mary: Well, he gives you a little bit before you leave. Maybe you’ll get a raise, maybe you’ll win a small lotto, maybe you’ll just find a twenty dollar bill on the street.
Me: What’s that got to do with Hank?
John: Hank has certain ‘connections.’
Me: I’m sorry, but this sounds like some sort of bizarre con game.
John: But it’s a million dollars, can you really take the chance? And remember, if you don’t kiss Hank’s ass he’ll kick the shit of you.
Me: Maybe if I could see Hank, talk to Him, get the details straight from him…
Mary: No one sees Hank, no one talks to Hank.
Me: Then how do you kiss his ass?
John: Sometimes we just blow Him a kiss, and think of his ass. Other times we kiss Karl’s ass, and he passes it on.
Me: Who’s Karl?
Mary: A friend of ours. He’s the one who taught us all about kissing Hank’s ass. All we had to do was take him out to dinner a few times.
Me: And you just took his word for it when he said there was a Hank, that Hank wanted you to kiss his ass, and that Hank would reward you?
John: Oh no! Do you think we’re fools? Karl has a letter he got from Hank years ago explaining the whole thing. Here’s a copy; see for yourself.
From The Desk of…Karl
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1. Kiss Hank’s ass and he’ll give you a million dollars when you leave town.
2. Drink alcohol only in moderation.
3. Kick the shit out of people who aren’t like you.
4. Eat right.
5. Hank dictated this list himself.
6. The moon is made of green cheese.
7. Everything Hank says is right.
8. Wash your hands after going to the bathroom.
9. Don’t drink alcohol.
10. Eat your wieners on buns, no condiments.
11. Kiss Hank’s ass or he’ll kick the shit out of you.
Me: This appears to be written on Karl’s letterhead, not Hank’s.
Mary: Hank didn’t have any paper.
Me: I have a hunch that if we checked we’d find this is Karl’s handwriting too.
John: Of course! Hank dictated it.
Me: I thought you said no one gets to see Hank?
Mary: Not now, but years ago he would talk to some people.
Me: I thought you said he was a philanthropist. What sort of philanthropist kicks the shit out of people just because they’re different?
Mary: It’s what Hank wants, and Hank’s always right.
Me: How do you figure that?
Mary: Item 7 says ‘Everything Hank says is right.’ That’s good enough for me!
Me: Maybe your friend Karl just made the whole thing up.
John: No way! Item 5 says ‘Hank dictated this list himself.’ Besides, item 2 says ‘Use alcohol in moderation,’ Item 4 says ‘Eat right,’ and item 8 says ‘Wash your hands after going to the bathroom.’ Everyone knows those things are right, so the rest must be true, too.
Me: But 9 says ‘Don’t use alcohol.’ which doesn’t quite go with item 2, and 6 says ‘The moon is made of green cheese,’ which is just plain wrong.
John: There’s no contradiction between 9 and 2, 9 just clarifies 2. As far as 6 goes, you’ve never been to the moon, so you can’t say for sure.
Me: Scientists have pretty firmly established that the moon is made of rock…
Mary: But they don’t know if the rock came from the Earth, or from outer space, so it could just as easily be green cheese.
Me: Not knowing where the rock came from doesn’t make it cheese. And I’m not an expert, but I think the scientific theory that the Moon came from the Earth has been discounted.
John: Aha! You just admitted that scientists make mistakes, but we know Hank is always right!
Me: We do?
Mary: Of course we do, Item 5 says so.
Me: You’re saying Hank’s always right because in the list that Hank dictated Hank says Hank is always right. That’s circular reasoning!
John: Now you’re getting it! It’s so rewarding to see someone come around to Hank’s way of thinking.
Me: But…oh, never mind. What’s the deal with wieners?
(Mary blushes)
John: Wieners go in buns, with no condiments. It’s Hank’s way. Anything else is immoral.
Me: What if I don’t have a bun?
John: No bun, no wiener. A wiener without a bun is wrong.
Me: No relish? No Mustard?
(Mary looks positively stricken.)
John: (shouting) There’s no need for such language! Condiments of any kind are wrong!
Me: So a big pile of sauerkraut with some wieners chopped up in it would be out of the question?
Mary: (Sticking her fingers in her ears.) I am not listening to this. La la la la la la la la.
John: That’s disgusting. Only some sort of evil deviant would eat…
Me: It’s good! I eat it all the time.
(Mary faints.)
John: (Catching Mary.) Well, if I’d known you were one of those I wouldn’t have wasted my time. When Hank kicks the shit out of you I’ll be there, counting my money and laughing. I’ll kiss Hank’s ass for you, you bunless cut-wienered kraut-eater.
(With this, John drags Mary to their waiting car, and speeds off.)
Presented as a public service by
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*****
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Kissing Hank’s Ass: A parable by Rev. Jim Huber
Copyright © 1997 Jim Huber.
Email Jim at: james@jhuger.com
All rights reserved. Used with permission.
For more heresy, visit the good reverend’s web site:
In the crowd…
I can’t help it. I keep expecting to see you somewhere in the crowd. I could swear that at any moment you’ll surprise me, we’ll embrace and you’ll ask me what I have been up to for the last year. And you’ll tell me about your latest project, or get rich quick scheme, and all of it in one sentence. You’ll have this new trick to show me or a hot new girlfriend to introduce me to. You’ll tell me about how your truck is running and how Shelly’s doing in med school. “What’s the theme for Burning Man this year? Have you talked to Rose? Yeah, me neither.”
And of course, you’ll have a tale to tell much taller than the one you had last time. I’m never sure if they’re true. Like when you followed the dead across America for a year and smoked a joint with Jerry Garcia. How you lost your tuition money at one poker game in Vegas, but was happy because the drinks were free.
You never talked about the drugs. You never mentioned how the coke felt so right at the time, but cost you your daughter. You never told me the tale of cold nights spent alone with the whiskey that kept you company and filled the emptiness in your home, in the backyard, and in your soul for a moment. But you had it together when I met you with fistfuls of ginger beer and big league chew.
I kissed your shoulder once. You noticed and stared at me with a question on your mind that you never spoke aloud. It was meant to be an expression of warmth, but your skin held an electricity that I didn’t expect. But with it you had a coolness that shrugged it off as an accident. You really had your shit together, on the surface. I never would have guessed that your foundation rocky.
You’d still be around if you truly had the world in your grasp, as you’d projected. You wouldn’t have bought the whiskey. You wouldn’t have bought the drugs. You wouldn’t have been found 3 days later safely nestled in your own rot amongst the blankets after so long sober. Wasn’t it like 4 years or so? I’m sure you could have told me the days. You wouldn’t have crushed every friend you’d ever made. You wouldn’t have broken my heart with your absence.
With every death the light of life gets just a little dimmer. Now I know why humans don’t live for very long. A person can’t live in darkness alone. The shit of it is that I can’t put it down. I have certainly tried. If only I had known, had a clue, been less surprised. You had such a love for life, it never occurred to me that the junkie doth protest too much. But your toothy grin is definitely gone, all for the sake of one last hit. And when I shrug off this world like an accident I know that I will see you somewhere in the crowd.
