ALGONAC, MICHIGAN - As usual, Rev. Billy Dog Bobdog had plenty to tell his flock of perpetually attentive like-minded loyalists otherwise assembled, more or less, peaceably at Saturday night's flashlight lit services at the Divine Child Church of Right About Now (And How) in beautiful downtown Algonac, Michigan.
And, for once, in a somewhat noticeable change of theme pace, what Rev. Bobdog had to say had nothing to do in response to any recent claims that continually place him at the center of a growing firestorm concerning significant amounts of parish supplied funds being used as hush money to cover up his reported involvement in an ongoing practice makes almost but not quite perfect scheme of repeatedly taking the temperature of various local underage females in church, without a thermometer.
Nope. What he had on his mind over that there, as yet to be officially proven matter, is something else entirely from the nearest available you name it, he's got it, so don't you forget it.
In other words, based on the good word from on high from a commonly accepted who-based whatever, sent to him, and him alone, at his overly palatial yet distinctly tasteful (regular and chunk style) retreat along the golden shores of nearby St. Clair River in all its chemically enhanced glory, is that contrary to what has previously long been thought out semi-carefully and, at times, only partially understood (without reason - but that's another story) by most religiously-driven Earth bound good for something (although at times not sure what) souls is that not only is there no such thing as Heaven, but, as luck and a certain amount of no s&#@?/WTF luck fate would have it, there's no Hell, either.
Instead, as Rev. Bobdog so eloquently informed one and all, whatever it is that's somewhere out there waiting for us to catch up with it, just beyond the big curve, of sorts, where, if you believe then that's all you ever need, is nothing more and a whole lot less than what reportedly looks amazingly like either just another totally nondescript strategic area somewhere near Vineland, New Jersey, or, by all accounts, everything just east of Greeley, Colorado all the way to Nebraska.
"At least that's what they tell me," confessed Rev. Bobdog even further to his decidedly semi-shocked and absent mindedly awed audience of knuckle dragging mouth breathers. "All of which is certainly hunky if not all the way dory as far as I'm concerned. Since, well, such a would-be if true proposition - which it is, believe me, so keep on keepin' on trusting me all at the same time, that is, I mean, despite what you may have heard - thoroughly reinforces the nearest available slippery slope slant of our present and most immediate tense, as being what's most if not all the time important to consider at a time like, yeah, this. And, oh yeah, not the other way around, as in well after this and/or any other that's a fact, Jack."
"Huh?" asked Alfie "Jack" Patterson-Dorsey, 55, from the nearby front row of carefully choreographed community donated indoor/outdoor lawn furniture, only cause, well, truth be told, that's the only thing he's ever been heard to say in public during any otherwise startling moment of community-based strife headed for a crisis ever since he got tripped up at the age 13 by the word "cat" during an impromptu second grade spelling bee. But that's really another story.
"Well, not in so many words, but something like that, if not more so," continued Rev. Bobdog. "Especially once you consider the aforementioned limited location-wise next stop wherever where options available via such a new and not exactly improved hoped for whenever when that there then becomes our official forever here to go thereafter."
"All of which," he added quickly just in case the authorities really were already on route, "I'm hoping ultimately allows for even more present tense flexibility than usual, so to speak. Especially with regards to anything that might somehow eventually, if not currently, exclusively arise accordingly within our collectively-tested/mutually approved wide awake confines while we're all still here as one, during our ever-so glorious - as the sign outside says - "Now (And How)" - pursuit of something, if not anything, and then some. That is, until further notice, up to and including what me, myself, cause why might - at least sometimes anyway - really be all about, Alfie, in the as long as I'm me and in the mood to know exactly what I'm always gonna be hereafter - allegedly. In still other words - as otherwise cued-up accordingly, with or without an otherwise agreed upon to prior portion of altogether necessary wiggle room - can I get an amen?"
Well, maybe not all at once, but when you're soaking in it - Thanks, Madge! - you gotta start the end run somewhere.