crine in the chaple

Of late I’ve had the odd biblism chat with my friend, and soforth. It’s funny that the two biggest English-speaking heads in catholicism should open up and say that, maybe not all that stuff is true re the bible, . What! But I’ve been arguing blue in the face that it was.
And of course they go straight for the best bits — genesis and revelations.
Where I work we have mandatory chaple first class each wednesday. At first I was horrified but I can pretty much do what ever I want, so I read about ten-headed monsters rising out of the ocean, ridden by evil whorish women and second helpings of steaming hot bowls of wrath.
mmm, wrath.

There’s always plenty of dancing going on, but it’s all strictly above the waist type-stuff. That is, the gyrating of hips and simulated felating of one girl (dressed as a boy) by another is left for a couple of special days per year.
Yeah, it’s kind of a mix of sign-language and that 80’s style of dancing where you’re swinging your wrist/hand by your side like you’re holding both ends of a skipping rope. Lots of making rainbows with your hands.

When it comes time to pray, I go limp, slump forward close my eyes and think about how much of a screwup I am. It beats working.

Occasionally it ramps up into a full multi-media explosion. Actually, it’s most of the time. I’m always impressed by the sense of redundancy – all the spot-lights, the video cameras, the mixing desk etc. is staffed by at least two girls; in case one faints and topples over due to standing in the one place too long.