Rip Van Winkle Conked on the Head

Well, there I was, snoring away, when some acorn or maybe a salad bowl was dropped on my head, and I woke up.

And what did I find? A new book entitled Schizophrenic Christianity that names and details the loathsome high jinks of those spotted toads known as the men appointed to save America. No, not the Flash and Green Lantern.

I'm talking about Dave Hyles, Jack Hyles, Bob Gray, and those other criminals in worsted wool. Except when I last wrote, Gray was still alive and posing as a frail old man who wouldn't hurt a fly. Now he's dead they tell me: accidental blunt force trauma. As though anything in that buggery old man's life was an accident. I doubt his death was an accident, and 23 claims of child molesting was no accident.

So the fabled book is out, and I am told that after a small firestorm of protest, even now faithfully carried out by some banshee who has named herself after Jack Schaap's vulgar heresy and sacrilege, the second generation of men called upon to save America have vanished from sight. That's no accident either.

But before I return to my nap, there's one or two more things to report on. But first, a cup of tea.