Sun., May 30, 1999
"Freedom from advertising" - Pope John Paul II
"Yes, freedom from advertising" - The Archbishop of Canterbury
"Freedom from advertising - but of course!" - The Dalai Lama
"Freedom from ALL advertising! And forever and ever, eh, mon?" - The Official Representative of the International Brotherhood of Voodoo Priestesses
Extracts from the summit at which the world's religious leaders finally agreed on a new definition of death for modern times.
A nice day today here in Ohio. Meaning that my wife has been telling me about all the things that need to be done out in the yard. Meaning that I've been reading today's Theological Sports newspaper section even closer than usual in a devout effort to tune her out.
Fortunately, this task has been made easier this week by the contributions of a new photographer to the section. A photographer who really knows just when to zoom in to catch an old dogma coach in a candid moment, when to use a wide-angled lens to capture the angels in all their glory as they prepare in their locker rooms for the crucial harp play-offs, and when to snap on the filter which allows him to nail the cute auras of the new expansion team animists without the harsh light of reason ruining the film. That he has also somehow managed to learn how not to jiggle his instrument when pushing the shutter button helps, too.
The stories were especially good this week as well. Like the one about the multi-denominational pool player who successfully sunk 36 doubts in a row by expertly hitting his balls with a perfectly balanced stick. And the one about how European-Style Philosophical Soccer continues to gain in popularity at divinity schools here due to its allowing its players to use any part of their body to make a point except the head.As usual, however, my favorite part of the section was the column written by Mahatma Abraham Chiang. This week he offered just about the best suggestion for improving the official Theological Sports rule book that I've ever seen.
You've seen this rule book countless times, I'm sure, if only while staying at a motel where some thoughtful Theological Jockey has gotten down off his or her high horse long enough to voluntarily slip a copy into a bureau drawer, onto the top of a nightstand, or between the tight folds of a rubber band wrapped 'round the nozzle of the shower. When was the last time you actually read it, however, instead of merely trusting your league's officials to have read it to you?
Been a long time, hasn't it? I know it has been for me. And really, who can blame us? The thing is over 1000-pages of small type, archaic language, and chocolatelessness. And even if you get ahold of a so-called "pocket edition" which leaves out the genealogies of every church hot-dog-and-indulgence vendor quite tangential to the main game, you still have a document heftier than a typical week's TV Guide.
Just imagine the pleasure I felt then as Mahatma Abraham Chiang informed me of a new project he's undertaken which would boil it all down to just 10 simple rules that would easily fit on the front of a team loin cloth or the back of a Pascalian bettor's ticket.. They're so simple and succinct, in fact, that I think I might actually be able to repeat them here without making more than a handful of typos. Let's see!Rule One: Thou shalt not question The Referee's decisions, nor attempt to appeal His decisions to a higher authority, unless you want a slap in the face.
Rule Two: Thou shalt not make a doll of The Referee and stick pins in it, nor make a doll of any mere Theological Sports commentator and believe what it has to say instead of The Referee merely because the commentator doll is wearing glasses. Unless you want a slap in the face.
Rule Three: Thou shalt neither call The Referee names, nor use a key to scratch His Cadillac Chariot as you leave the stadium. Unless you really want a you-know-what.
Rule Four: Remember All-Soul's Tournament Day - and get your tickets in advance.
Rule Five: Honor the people who brought you to the game, for they have the power to make you walk home. (Offering them gas money would be a nice start.)
Rule Six: Thou shalt not kill, neither because the game isn't going your way, nor because you have bad seats, nor because you're bored, nor lest of all because it seemed like a fun thing to do while you were playing the home version of Fox TV's "The Vivisection Is Right!" game show. Unless you want a slap in the face and your photo on the covers of both Time and Newsweek.
Rule Seven: Thou shalt not slow the game down by having sex with your neighbor's spouse on the playing field. (You DON'T want to know the penalty for this one.)
Rule Eight: Thou shalt not steal victory from the jaws of defeat without at least having the courtesy to wipe the jaws of defeat with a napkin.
Rule Nine: Thou shalt not give a false report of the game just to make it seem more exciting than it really was or to win the office pool.
Rule Ten: Thou shalt not covet a better game, for the day thou does, thou shalt surely die of aggravation and frustration, 'cause there ain't no other.Admittedly these rules leave a lot out, but then so does the 1000-page tome they're derived from. Both spend an awful lot of time on what not to do and the penalties that await those who do those things anyway. Both spend very little time detailing the titles, rewards, trophies, glory and easily excited cheerleaders awaiting those who come out on top. This might be because all the players are considered losers, and all the spectators are dead and therefore have their complaints about this situation rejected out of hand. Still. It would have been nice had either the original book or Mahatma's distillation given some indication as to whether or not it is better to slice or hook when facing one's 9th ethical quandary of the day. Even a hint about whether or not game etiquette requires us to allow faster ethicists to play through would have been appreciated.
And of course it is MOST regrettable that we're still no closer to a solution to the "Are the Satanic Demons deserving of locker room facilities on a par with our own when they come to play on our home turf?" controversy which has puzzled great thinkers for centuries.
Still, as these things go -Oh, NO! I just heard on the radio that Mahatma Abraham Chiang has been fired from his job! Seems a drug-sniffing dog came across today's column in an airport terminal and definitely detected traces of LSD and cocaine behind it. Ink tests confirmed not only the presence of these substances but also strongly suggested that Chiang had injected "Melrose Place" into his eyes within the last 30 days.
I'm sorry - I can't go on.
If you can't trust Theological Sports columnists to be inspiringly nonsensical without the use of highly artificial and dangerous substances, who can you trust?!
*SOB!*
(All Material Except Words Three, Seven, And Two-Hundred-Seventeen © 1999 by Dan Birtcher)
(You know, had you started reading this earlier, you'd be well on your way to having forgotten it by now)
