memories of muppets
Chuck was stroking his beard with one hand, and their cat Blue with the other.
"Ah, yes, I remember this. This is where the bad joke came from."
"What do you get when you put a Christian, a Jew, a Cardinal and a Mullah together in one meeting?"
Margie was not really in the mood for jokes. "I have no idea."
"A conspiracy."
Margie squinted. "Is it just me or is that not funny?"
Chuck stared at the display. "It's not funny. That's the joke." He sighed. "You know your religion is in trouble when you notice their scandals involve banking, murder, molestation and corruption. Nothing makes a more credible true believer faster than a fallen cleric."
"Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me?"
"Fool for all eternity." He looked down at his Pad. "Brothers is on board Pod 11, Kamberg is on board 119, Skeksis is on board 237, and Ali Mahmoud Gawabi is on 331."
Margie leaned forward to get a closer look at Chuck's screen. "How do we protect them until PlanetFall? They're all targets."
He sat back and rested his eyes. "I'm not sure they can be protected and we don't want any martyrs now or after PlanetFall. If we end up with martyrs the dance of hatred continues and the flocks will still be opposed to each other. Martyrs help maintain the Babel that keeps the flowers of hatred in full bloom. Unfortunately, that's what the flocks thrive on."
"True enough, oh cynical partner of mine. Hatred's favourite disguise, love."
He patted her thigh. "Good observation. Without friction there is no pearl in the oyster, no Sistine chapel and no trouble in the Middle East for 2000 years."
"Skeksis? Why does that sound famliar?"
Chuck smiled. "Dark Crystal, brilliant film by Jim Henson & Frank Oz."
She chuckled."Oh, yeah, with the Lord Chamberlain." She attempted the accent with moderate success.
"Everybody remembers the bad guys. Do you remember the name of the young character sent to retrieve the Crystal?"
She thought for a moment. "No, can you?"
He shook his head. "No, though I've watched the film maybe 40 times."
"Why is that, d'you think?"
"The Killing Room problem." He took a swig from his drink. "Evil people are ultimately more interesting. People who sit around all day in bliss are worth nothing. People who strap bombs around their chests and blow themselves up actually prove life is worth nothing, at least to them, people who think they are the Chosen think everybody else is worth nothing. Whether there was an active creator or not, the test of life is living it well and doing the right thing without hope of reward. Everybody else is a mercenary."
She looked at him. "How do you know you're not evil?"
He shrugged. "I don't. I muddle through like everybody else. Think about the concept of Saviour for a moment. Saviour from what? Life?"
"Hell, if I remember right."
"Ultimately the banishment from the Garden Of Paradise was for gaining sacred knowledge. Most people couldn't read then. When the missionaries first went out they were a simple, scraggy bunch. Human being followers put them on pedestals on purpose, otherwise the whole concept of aspiring to a Higher Life made no sense. According to St. Thomas, if those were the words of Christ the dirty trick was making up the story about throwing the money-lenders out of the temple."
She grinned. "You should start a church of your own."
He laughed. "My wish is to pass unknown to the bliss that is Death and reunification with Universe for a while."
She reflected for a moment as he put his head back. "How do you think the formless Void will do?"
He shook his head without lifting it. "With maybe 4 spirits on board? I'm not encouraged."
She looked at her crocheting. "Neither am I. They need to push Sorrell."
He laughed at some thought in his head. "They'd be better off sending a hot chick on a motorcycle. That would get people's attention!"
She joined him with a brief chuckle. "That would get some people's attention."
"Ah, yes, I remember this. This is where the bad joke came from."
"What do you get when you put a Christian, a Jew, a Cardinal and a Mullah together in one meeting?"
Margie was not really in the mood for jokes. "I have no idea."
"A conspiracy."
Margie squinted. "Is it just me or is that not funny?"
Chuck stared at the display. "It's not funny. That's the joke." He sighed. "You know your religion is in trouble when you notice their scandals involve banking, murder, molestation and corruption. Nothing makes a more credible true believer faster than a fallen cleric."
"Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me?"
"Fool for all eternity." He looked down at his Pad. "Brothers is on board Pod 11, Kamberg is on board 119, Skeksis is on board 237, and Ali Mahmoud Gawabi is on 331."
Margie leaned forward to get a closer look at Chuck's screen. "How do we protect them until PlanetFall? They're all targets."
He sat back and rested his eyes. "I'm not sure they can be protected and we don't want any martyrs now or after PlanetFall. If we end up with martyrs the dance of hatred continues and the flocks will still be opposed to each other. Martyrs help maintain the Babel that keeps the flowers of hatred in full bloom. Unfortunately, that's what the flocks thrive on."
"True enough, oh cynical partner of mine. Hatred's favourite disguise, love."
He patted her thigh. "Good observation. Without friction there is no pearl in the oyster, no Sistine chapel and no trouble in the Middle East for 2000 years."
"Skeksis? Why does that sound famliar?"
Chuck smiled. "Dark Crystal, brilliant film by Jim Henson & Frank Oz."
She chuckled."Oh, yeah, with the Lord Chamberlain." She attempted the accent with moderate success.
"Everybody remembers the bad guys. Do you remember the name of the young character sent to retrieve the Crystal?"
She thought for a moment. "No, can you?"
He shook his head. "No, though I've watched the film maybe 40 times."
"Why is that, d'you think?"
"The Killing Room problem." He took a swig from his drink. "Evil people are ultimately more interesting. People who sit around all day in bliss are worth nothing. People who strap bombs around their chests and blow themselves up actually prove life is worth nothing, at least to them, people who think they are the Chosen think everybody else is worth nothing. Whether there was an active creator or not, the test of life is living it well and doing the right thing without hope of reward. Everybody else is a mercenary."
She looked at him. "How do you know you're not evil?"
He shrugged. "I don't. I muddle through like everybody else. Think about the concept of Saviour for a moment. Saviour from what? Life?"
"Hell, if I remember right."
"Ultimately the banishment from the Garden Of Paradise was for gaining sacred knowledge. Most people couldn't read then. When the missionaries first went out they were a simple, scraggy bunch. Human being followers put them on pedestals on purpose, otherwise the whole concept of aspiring to a Higher Life made no sense. According to St. Thomas, if those were the words of Christ the dirty trick was making up the story about throwing the money-lenders out of the temple."
She grinned. "You should start a church of your own."
He laughed. "My wish is to pass unknown to the bliss that is Death and reunification with Universe for a while."
She reflected for a moment as he put his head back. "How do you think the formless Void will do?"
He shook his head without lifting it. "With maybe 4 spirits on board? I'm not encouraged."
She looked at her crocheting. "Neither am I. They need to push Sorrell."
He laughed at some thought in his head. "They'd be better off sending a hot chick on a motorcycle. That would get people's attention!"
She joined him with a brief chuckle. "That would get some people's attention."
