“The LORD looked down from heaven upon the children of men, to see if there were any that did understand, and seek God. They are all gone aside, they are all together become filthy: there is none that doeth good, no, not one.”
Now, let’s see, where were we when last we were together? That little sleep has made me stuporous and hazy headed. Oh yes, now it is coming back to me. We were speaking of our dear beloved Stultitia of whom we have all bowed the knee. In a rare exhibition of her generosity she has paraded all of mankind onto the stage of our delusionary life and given us a peep behind the curtain. Here we also met her propmasters and helpers Anoia, (lack of understanding or ignorance), and Lethe, (obscurity, or forgetfulness), with whose help she prepares the costumes and prints the script. It is not at all unusual to find one of her actors totally involved in his or her part, believing that they are the epitome of fashion, the defenders of the faith, masters of their own destiny, the most brilliant, the most beautiful, able to perceive dark mysteries, leap tall buildings with a single bound, or prevent the train wreck that portrays man’s life, teetering on the brink of that great death, the oblivion of outer darkness. The plethora of foolish imaginations and the creative genius of their dementia have provided the gods with infinite hours of entertainment.
We also discovered just how necessary foolishness is to the successful exploitation of our miniscule part in the grand play. Why, without Folly, her children pout and become bored, peradventure some benevolent soul should cross their path with news of life outside the cave and the hope of something more serious strike a root. Yes, yes, foolishness is what makes life worth living, proven by all of her children. From A to Z it is Folly who opens the doorway to bliss. Now, just think about it, remove all the foolishness from this dismal existence and what do you have left? Complete boredom! Veracity occupies only a fly speck in the overall production that only a minutia of mankind are ever likely to recognize it; but Folly, on the other hand, is fruitful and can be found and favored anywhere anytime, and requires but one resolve, i.e. ignore the fable in some ancient moth eaten manuscript, and get on with the show.
Folly has been generous in her perusal and desires to go beyond the general to the exalted. The common person will most readily admit of their foolish life, replete with redundant misdeeds, and ever anxious to test some new life strategy, like Lotto or investments in depreciating commodities. But, let’s go on to those who are the “wise” in this world, and who profess to shun foolishness. It is these worldly wisenheimers who have raised foolishness to an art form, and who have perfected stupidity while thumbing their nose at the common duncical lot of humanity.
Bear with me awhile as we venture into the realm of well-mollified madness. Madness tranquillized and normalized, Insaneness promoted to the status quo. Think not that Stultitia has been relegated to the State Department only; it simply is not true my fellow fool; if Folly is prolific anywhere she is prolific in the pulpit. Now we will pass from the general to the more specific.
Delusions of Grandeur, the Breakfast of Champions
Folly declares that she is so much more tempered and not like those other gods and goddesses who send curses and lightening, draughts and plagues, and all kinds of suffering when improperly recognized. She demands no temple or sacrifices. “Why should I require a goat or a wafer when men everywhere pay me homage in their minds and manners continually.” She would be the first to remind us that even the Christians follow this rule. How many of them do such foolish things like burning candles, even during the day when they are not needed, or becoming a wholly different person with a completely different persona on a certain day of the week, sometimes twice a day, and practice rituals, doing this, that, and the other, then revert back to their common everyday self for the conduction of business and life outside their religious building. And especially, those Catholics with all their sacraments, pretending to be holy by doing certain things certain ways and invoking the names of Apostles and mere men, weeping at scratches on walls, worshiping the virgin Mary instead of Jesus through so many Hail Mary recitations and bead counting, and believing they are accepted of God by these, and never actually imitating the Apostle’s holy lives with selflessness and humility. “Good lord, why would I want a temple, the whole world is my temple, dedicated to me, Folly?”
And, those Protestants, they are no better. Thinking they made great strides with Luther and Calvin. Their followers through time set up whole institutions of religious practices, dampening the light and darkening the path with the leaven of foolishness. Even the Peasant’s War, although the product of the madness of a malicious sort reflected the same folly as Popery, promoting vanity, pride, and the conceit of selfish-fulfillment, and rang the death knell for many local Catholics. Calvin also, with his great influence, was unable to forgo the sentence of death, for the poor fool Servetus, by his own followers. What was it that the Protestant church protested anyway if it wasn’t the complete foolishness of corrupt popery with its thousands and thousands of butchered humans because of their differences in beliefs on thousands of possible points? Madness never ceases. Christ’s command for them to go back and do their first work over again was translated by the Reformers as only going part way back to maybe the third or fourth works, which allowed faith and foolishness to remain a mixture.
Having taken a peek into the vortex of madness, which is madness of the grossest sort, Folly now fast forwards us into our present foolishness. Today the word “Protestant” is rarely used, and this is due to Folly’s apt assistant Lethe a.k.a. forgetfulness, which she administers with sophistication; a quality of which the whole world belies. Pray tell, what is there to “protest” today, aren’t we all becoming one. What better unity and ecumenism than the universal adoration of Folly? I, Folly, am the fulfillment of all the hopes of Hippies, the existential hinge on which the whole world turns; the universal, ecumenical, experiential focus point that every generation has sought; I, Folly, am above all gods, beloved of my children. To wake-up into my sleep is eternal, blessed, bliss.
The Reverential Face of Folly
Folly is often found in the pulpit imitating the “divines” who are confident that they have risen to Lordship, Father-hood, Reverend, or Most Reverend, or some other self-ingratiating title, and let’s not forget our esteemed Doctors.
Certainly, though no one is less willing than our religious leaders to recognize my good will toward them, but they are still obliged to me for no little benefit of importance. Who, but I, have blessed them with so much selflove that they are wholly persuaded that they are dwellers of the third heaven, looking from their lofty perch, declaring mere recipients of revelation as only kitchen table theologians, and not fitted for understanding the deep things of a Schoolman? And, those of popish persuasion declare proudly of their ability to see meanings of words not apparent to the vulgar cut of mankind; projecting penance for repentance, indulgence for grace and free gift, or judging Jesus’ own words “it is finished” to mean that it is not finished. Do you see the absolute foolishness of this? and it goes on and on, and they are lucky enough to find whole troops of gnats and flies to believe them, never questioning this popish poopery. What total moronity and my own foolishness exceed even me, in their own declaration and separating out of venial and mortal sins. Why, this madness alone accounts for the complete blessedness of millions to enjoy booze, bingo, and casino night for the price of a few good deeds. Little do they know, because they are held by an inebriated elation, that venial sins are a mere fantasy and are not to be found anywhere in all of creation. What they don’t know is that all sins are really Mortal, and there is nothing they can do to get rid of them, so “eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die.” Yes, yes, oh for the joy in it all that even Jesus has been reduced to a wafer and taken captive in a bird cage. Please, let’s not stop this joy fest just now; please indulge me this further foolishness. Truth has been so far forgotten that men dressed in black open their mouth and gnats and flies fall prostrate licking their feet insisting that they have fulfilled the rule and deserve “forgiveness” from the authorized divine, according to the mandate of men. The Protestant crowd is no different; they just haven’t had as much practice.
Oh what vanity my dear prelates in Rome have, fools of the highest order, creating a schooled system of salvation by works. It offers salvation on the installment plan, and then ensures that the pathetic evildoer is perpetually behind in his payoffs, so that when he croaks there is a prodigious unpaid balance, and he must continue payments by sufferings in purgatory, or until the debt is paid by the prayer, contributions, and sufferings of his living relatives and friends. Oh, what thumbs must have become sore, sucking this from their deepest innards. The whole system and plan calls for blindness, merit, and moolah, from the cradle to the grave and even beyond. Surely the sapience that drew such a plan of salvation is from Stultitia. These foxes have so many holes they can run to that their joy is never ceasing, and their blindness never healing. If boredom sets in then a mere question is set in their mind, like “is it possible for the Father to hate the Son?” Or “could it have been possible for Christ to have been born a woman, or a devil, or a donkey, or a cucumber, or a rock? Then how the cucumber would have preached, performed miracles, and been nailed to the cross? Or, will it be permissible to eat and drink after the resurrection, seeing how much we love to eat and drink? And, the Apostles, they all knew Jesus’ mother, but which one of them could show how she was preserved from original sin as well as any of the learned Catholic theologians of renown, or how she could remain a virgin after having other offspring? The Apostles cannot hold a candle to these puffed-up beetles with all their volumes of publications and prescriptions, their holy robes and clerical collars, setting them off as excellent vessels of the Lord. And, “it is hardly clear how it was revealed to them that a charcoal sketch on a wall should be worshiped with the same worship as Christ Himself, provided that the picture has two fingers extended, long hair, and three rays in a halo stuck on the back of the skull.” Only the immense education, (the Apostles being ignorant, naïve, and uninitiated) of elite men with keen brilliance and intellect have achieved such insight. Little, will they admit, that it is Folly who has awarded these dustballs with crowns and gowns.
Pleassseee, give me my credit in this madness, the whole crowd draws it pleasure from me. The deliciousness of Stultitia’s spiritual concoction, a little holiness, a little profanity; nectar and naughtiness, mixed by pope and pastor, with an open invitation to belly up to the bar, and experience the emergence of euphoria with its new relaxed dress code. Catholics and Evangelicals coming together, pondering the last great social question; the question of human solidarity. It was my idea; give me a little credit; the conjoining of all in one. The whole idea is so exciting I get a little goosey. The world’s most immoral governing body (the Vatican) leading the way in social justice. Only Folly could have empowered the most notorious trull, wenching with kings and princes, to coach the world concerning chastity; and cover it in the vesture of charming words, “Caritas in Veritate,” charity in truth.
Imagine with me for a moment the potential of being driven by this purpose. Whole worlds of possibilities are opened up. Baptist taking vows of silence and monasteries created for no other purpose than to paralyze the tongue. Methodist stuck to the top of a pole like a sponge, not eating or sleeping, the epitome of sacrificial righteousness; protestant pillar saints; what a concept. They could even have some fun with the flogs; rent them out right next to the coffee bar and have Wednesday night workouts while contemplating how much I love them. I am beginning to sound like a mother, am I not? I am so pleased with them all; all except for those others; they refuse to play along. They are not mine, neighbor children, but I have succeeded in getting some to come over and play; funsuckers, that’s what we have nicknamed them. We can’t have them spoiling the party, can we? Our motto is “Come along, to get along,” catchy wouldn’t you say?
I could say so much more if I weren’t dancing, jostling, juggling, and joking. Why should life be so “straight” after all, it’s unnatural; and black is never black, or white, white; statutes were made for statues, stone men, and laws were built to be busted, they’re all cracked from the get-go anyway; foolishness is never cast in concrete.
Well, children, it is past my bed time. Tomorrow we will embark on an adventure to the abyss of the absolute; a field trip to the house of absurd relics: truth, holiness, perfection, and eternity, to name a few; they’re all party favorites, so come dressed-up if you like. It should be a fun time, so let’s all get a little rest; you’ll need it.
Coming soon to a Blog near you………….
The Christian Fools Paradox, Black Is Black? and White Is Actually White?
An offering of bliss, or an intolerant assault on insanity?