Word Up, Sister!

 

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

*****

 

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.)

 

 

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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:

http://jhuger.com/

Dear Mr. Employer,

It is my belief that after the amount of time I have spent with this company, I deserve a substantial increase in benefits. I have committed at least 40 hours per week of my ever shortening life to making money for you instead of writing my novel. I have brought you coffee every morning (only occasionally spitting in it or using rotten milk as creamer), even though I am certain that your own damn legs work just fine for the process of getting it yourself. I have catered to your ego by not correcting you when you think you are “hot shit”. Even though, frankly speaking, years of business meetings and reports that have forced you to sit at your desk and do nothing have molded you into the sexual equivalent of a corpse.

I have never set the building on fire, or committed bodily harm to any other employees, regardless of many tantalizing opportunities. I have never stolen from the company anything of substantial importance or value. I have never been rude to a customer that wasn’t rude to me first. I have been a model employee.

My commitment to this company must be readily apparent to you, especially considering that I haven’t been working to save the world during business hours. If I weren’t here at my desk every damn day, I could be rescuing our nation away from the spindly fingers of our republican super villains. I could go to pro-choice rallies; I could march for women’s rights. I could have been working for gay rights, and for racial acceptance for all. I could be lovingly spoon feeding the starving people of our country. I could provide advice for young unintended mothers. I could be chipping at the walls of poverty with a jack hammer. I could pierce my nose and die my hair a sharp green color. I could be free. So you must see how dedicated I am to the job, or at least to the steady paycheck, otherwise I would be out in the world living my life, and creating change where I feel it is needed.

So, here is my proposal Mr. DeMan. I want your full and total commitment to the evolution of our country.

• Since I have ascertained that your actual presence in this office is entirely expendable, for every “long weekend” that I spend making you money, you are going to spend a “long weekend” marching on Washington and petitioning for Gay and Women’s rights.
• For every dime you pay me, you will devote an equal amount to finding a cure for AIDS. And every dime that I make for you and the money grubbing bastards on the board, you will donate half of that to the NOW organization.
• I want to see you marching in the Gay Pride Parade, holding a sign that says “I kiss boys”. Whether or not you are gay is of no importance, but your show of support is.
• In order to park in the company lot your car must bear a clearly visible sticker that reads “I’m a feminist, and I vote.”
• And I get to dye my hair any color I please. Simply because our appearance should only be an identifying characteristic and not gage for status.

If you have any disagreement in regards to the opinions or comments stated in the above text, my office is the fourth one down the hall on the left, and I will have my blowtorch close at hand. Thank you for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,

The Feminist Drone
That answers the phone
And prays for your evolution.

P.S. You’re wife is hot!