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Otis at work


Of This
And That...

• • •

10/24/13--Heeled Republicans Insist They Get Democracy Now

10/05/13--Republicans To Fight Emancipation Proclamation Next

07/15/13--Pope Francis Changes Rules For Heaven and Hell: Muslim Paradise Gets Bump

01/05/13--Boulder Cop (Taxidermist) Shoots (Bags) Crazed Killer (Old and Feeble) Elk (Trophy)






























































































Vol. 1; Sermon 1.3 (update)

• • •

Would-be Plot To Assassinate Pope
Exposes Weasel Pedo-tactics!


Colorado--In a potentially masterful plan to assassinate The Pope, a seemingly innocent child in a yellow shirt wandered on to the stage in St. Peter's square while Pope Francis was giving a homily to more than 150,000 Catholics.

There was concern that the boy's yellow shirt—a favorite of suicide bombers as the peculiar color saturation signature of yellow pigments is known to hide shadows and creases—concealed a suicide bomber vest that could conceivably take out the entire papal contingent.

The Swiss guard in the Pope's security detail were taken by surprise when the would-be assassin climbed onto the papal dais and appeared to wander aimlessly toward the Pope who, when he saw the youngster, put his hand on the little boy's head in a gesture of papal grace. Moments later when the precocious youth embraced the Pope around the waist and burrowed his head into the papal crotch, several members of the colorfully clad bodyguard unit were observed sh!tting their leotards.

Initial speculation was that there might have been a malfunction in the bomb triggering mechanism, and since the little boy had no training beyond the point when the sucide vest would explode, he simply ambled about on the dais, following his bliss, as it were. When the weasels realized their plan had gone south and the vest didn't explode, they sent plain-clothes weasels out to try and lure the pre-pubescent off the stage with candy—presumably to get rid of any evidence of the assassination plot.

However the quick-thinking youngster foiled the weasels' clean-up, as well, taking the proffered candy but then refusing to accompany the two-faced weasel off-stage where he would no doubt have been permanently silenced. As the weasels surrounded him and closed in, the youngster jigged and jagged his way back to and embraced the Pope amidst nervous laughter from somewhat amused supplicants. Mindful that their actions at this point would be witnessed by the whole world, the weasels backed off and skulked back into the darkness to let events take their course.

And a good thing they did, too. Turns out the adorable little boy was just an adorable little boy without a bomb strapped to his little torso underneath his yellow shirt. In fact, when he jumped up into the Pope's chair and appeared to get a feel for it, there was even talk amongst those who talk about such things that he might have been the little lamby Jesus come again to take his rightful throne. Others believed the little boy was simply retarded and wandered innocently toward all the hubbub.

Amusement over the incident quickly turned sour in The Kingdom when video of the incident clearly showed plain-clothes weasels luring the little boy backstage with candy, reminding subjects of the despicable, vile things weasels—not just Catholic weasels, but weasels in every religion—were doing to their children. Suddenly reports turned from spontaneous outpourings of hope and joy to eyes being gouged out in many rural areas, and widespread vomiting and dry-wretching across The Land.

Those who wonder about such things wondered what-the-f#%k!?



Vol. 1; Sermon 1.2 (update)

• • •

Pope On A Plane


Colorado--In yet another stunning turn of events in an opening act of truly apocalyptic turns of events, Pope Francis The Crazy appeared unscheduled, unscripted and unrehearsed in front of reporters for almost an hour and a half on a papal flight back to Rome after the World Youth Thing-a-majig in Rio last week. After narrowly escaping assassination by stampede in what was almost certainly a coup d’holy-f#%king-etat (foiled by a mass demonstration of the Pope’s newly galvanized and ever-expanding People Power), the Pope gave a Mass on Copacabana Beach to more than one million (New York Times) and less than three million (Washington Post) frenetically adoring sinners, further confirming the Pope’s burgeoning rock star (he did in fact play guitar) status. (Presumably this number included topless worshippers/frolickers, as well.)

After the beach blanket fete, in a calculated move worthy of a world class chess champion (and that belies his carefree, almost flippantly forthcoming manner)—and with the weasel attempt on his life no doubt fresh on his mind—Pope Frank cleverly waited until he was air born on his flight back to Rome before popping up in the journalists’ pit in the back of the plane to continue his assault on the institutionalized weasel sh!t embedded into the fabric of the Catholic church. Cameras rolling and mics open, the weasels could do nothing but look on helplessly while Francis the Crazy exposed their sick and twisted sh!t to the world once again.

Most notably, in a revelation every bit as shocking as St. John The Divine’s (well almost), the brassy-balled Pope suggested that if gay priests were truly seeking the Lord and righteousness and all that, then “Who am I to judge?” he said, shrugging as if common sense should clearly dictate papal policy. Suddenly gasps and the digital click and whirr of cameras documenting the moment filled the pressurized fuselage. Frank went on to say that the lobbies—the ones blackmailing and subverting the normal papal sh!t and processes thereabout—were the ones causing all the problems. No doubt the weasels at that second felt their ride plunging 40,000 feet into the sea.

In clarification of remarks made last month wherein he mentioned a “gay lobby” using dirty rotten political tricks to push their agenda through the already dark and secretive papal processes, the Pope clearly meant to differentiate between homosexuals whom he insisted should be forgiven their sins just like any other Catholic, and not subjected to blackmail or pressure because of their sexual orientation, and the skeevy scheming shape-f#%king-shifting weasels in the service of an evil-f#%king pedophile-pampering agenda.

Well f#%king done!

I’m telling you striaght up, Frank’s the real-f#%king deal! He was having the time of his life cracking wise with reporters, Jesus-like and philosophical at times, giggling like a little girl at others. And did you see that nose!?red as Rudolph-the-f#%king-red-nosed-reindeer on Christmas Eve! He was down-f#%king-right giddy!

He’s got the skeevy, scheming little weasel bastards so nervous they’re peeing all over themselves for a change! In six short months Frank has shown himself to be a holy-f#%king-reformer such as the Catholics have never seen! He’s moved in with his mop bucket and disinfectant and is mopping up weasel pee and sweeping out weasel sh!t! like a crack-crazed bathroom janitor at a Raiders home game! Moreover, he’s thrown open the doors of Catholicism so true light can shine and work it’s magic! The corrupt Vatican bank’s getting a long-overdue upgrade to (at the very least) calculators, from dark rooms filled with bags of cash and gold and only the devil knows what else, all calculated on the abaci of weasels and snakes and moneychangers supposedly run out of the temple a couple thousand years ago by Jesus himself with a horse-f#%king-hair whip! And the skeevy scheming little weasels who’ve been leaking weasel sh!t to the public to embarrass and humiliate and blackmail those after Frank’s own good heart who would let light into the Vatican, the miserable little sh!ts spontaneously combusted like vampires in sunlight!

And now on a plane eight miles high over the deep blue sea with the cameras rolling and the weasels looking on helplessly, powerless to gag him and throw a guinea sack over his head and drag him down to the baggage hold and douse him with weasel pee so he’ll say weasel sh!t like he’s supposed to, Frank's talking about a new women's theology and better utilizing female spiritual gifts or some such, and talking about how he's not the one to judge righteous God-fearing homosexuals and--wait! Could it be!? No! Did perchance Frank let slip his own sexual preference!? No!? Is he!? No....

Anyhow, it’s taken Frank a little time to feel the skeevy little bastards out to see how they’ll react to his happy shiny people divinity because the loathsome mother-f#%kers have virtually no experience with that sort of thing—they’re used to hapless, spineless Popes and bishops and priests doing whatever the f#%k the weasels tell them to do! But alas it appears as if Frank’s hit his stride and has even lobbed a couple of grenades into the weasels' hidey-hole to clear it in preparation for the ground assault in the coming Weasel War!

What could possibly be next!?

I’ll tell you what’s next! Ladies, dust off your vestements and study up on your liturgies! And…get ready for The Day of the Horny Priests!


O.Keyes, Colorado



(Grateful acknowledgement is hereby made to Rachel Donadio of The New York Times, for her reporting on the above subject matter, in “On Gay Priests, Pope Francis Asks, ‘Who Am I to Judge?’” -; 7/31/13; 2:02 pm. And to Jena McGregor of The Washington Post, for her reporting in “Pope Francis and the Power of Five Words,” – 7/29/13; 12:47 pm. We got this papal sh!t covered! And to R.E.M. for the lyrical reference casually dropped.)