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"The saints sit up in heaven twiddling their thumbs because so few people pray to them any more." - St Madeleine Sophie Barat

Dear Mum 03 (Cadyism. Staring a new religion based on Max Cady)

April 4th 2008 21:20
Vanis et vobis ante lucem surgere
6am. Only 12 hours work, and I can have another beer.


Dear Mum,

One of the great things about being a postie is the early starts. I’ve always been an early riser. Getting up at 4am is easy. Mind you, I don’t look my absolute best at 4am, but it’s nothing a gallon of black coffee and a few lungfuls of 28mg White Ox won’t fix. (The reason dad died of lung cancer is because he gave up smoking at 68. His lungs couldn’t handle it. I’m going to smoke in intensive care. I’ll stuff a whole heap of nicotine patches into my drip, or just pour a packet of tobacco into it).

But back to how I look at 4am. Some women like the ‘you look like an unmade bed’ look. They certainly like the wet-hair, post-shower look. Some of them love looking at you really close-up when you’re having a shower. They’re the best ones. I love hands-free showers. With a woman who knows how to scrub and lather. I even return the favour.

Vanis est vobis ante lucem surgere, is what King David wrote in the Psalms. ‘It is vain for you to rise before daylight.’ I don’t think they had posties in King David’s day. I wouldn’t get to work on time if I didn’t get up at 4am. (Sometimes, you can’t take everything in the Bible literally. Unless you want to be a Jehovah, or belong to some evangelical, Pentecostal, new-age, pseudo Christian movement that focuses on the Old Testament, and misses the whole point of why Christ worked until he was 30 years old at Nazareth (excluding of course His infancy, and the seven years Jesus, Mary & Joseph spent in Egypt).


Christ’s hidden life at Nazareth was the foundation for his public life. Most modern quasi-Christians associate themselves with Christ’s public life (His preaching and miracles), but they have no foundation for their ranting and raving. They all want the glory of Thabor (His transfiguration) but don’t want the Cross (His Crucifixion). One of the saints said words to the effect, 'The greatest miracle Christ performed was to hide His divinity, and appear like an ordinary working man.' No-one in Nazareth knew He was God made man (apart from Joseph and Mary. They knew).

To understand Christ? You have to live like Him. He infuses His own knowledge into you. It comes via the Holy Ghost. A bit like Pentecost but without tongues of fire or big wind noises. The reason most people don’t hear God’s voice? He whispers, and most people can’t hear him due to the TV or their i-Pods?

God communicates His Wisdom to the simple and silent. You don't need a post-graduate degree or a PhD to speak to God. You don’t even need books. (The book of life is a great read, though). Like Max Cady said in Cape Fear when the prison guard asks, ‘What about your books?’ and he replies, ‘Already read ‘em.’ I like that.

I like Max. He’s an animal. He likes brutal sex. (I think handcuffing a woman, breaking her arm, and biting her cheek off is going a bit far, though). I might become a Cadian. Forget about Christianity, and set up my own religion. Cadyism. What will I preach about? I know. I’ll just read Orble posts? And write about worldly things? Wow people with my knowledge of what’s going on in the world?

Well, it’s Saturday morning here in muggy, sweaty Queensland. I don’t have to work today. I think 54hours work for the week is enough. It’s time to let the body recharge its batteries. I’m just going to plug my soul into my intellect, memory and imagination, and recharge its batteries too. There's no way I'm dulling/numbing my exterior and interior senses by reading or watching the news of the world. Like St Padre Pio said, 'The newspaper is the devil's gospel.' I like that. 'And the TV is his pulpit.'

I wish I could work on Saturdays. Until I find a woman, that is. Then I want Saturdays free to have wild animal sex with her. And a bit of sensual, slow love-making. Only so we don’t have to watch chick-flicks? Nup. A man and a woman need a balance in life. Brutal and sensual sex is a perfectly balanced life.

I think I’ll go onto one of those Internet Dating Sites with a profile nic, Alarm Clock. And just ask women, ‘Would you like me to wake you up in the morning? You can have the loud version or the vibrating silent version?’ The only problem with that? I’m already on most of them. The adult ones are the best. Lesbians put up pictures of themselves naked to piss men off. I write to them and just say ‘Thanks. I really enjoyed the perve. Signed. A non man-hating male.’ All I’ve discovered is most 'straight' women on internet dating sites are virtual to the nth degree. They all put pics of themselves up that are 10-20 years old. And 40kgs old? (Apart from the lesbians. God bless their pretty little muffs [or lack of muffs?]). It’s a fat farm. I’m sure Jenny Craig or the producers of Australia’s biggest loser owns most Internet Dating Sites. Harldy any of the women want to meet anyone real, because he’ll discover they’re nothing like they say they are? Or they want to sit on their lazy arses all day long re-writing their ‘About ME’ section, and their 'I'm looking for' section of their profiles. Fussy bitches.

Nup. Stuff it. I’m going out in the real world tonight. To the Pig & Whistle Bar in Queen St Mall. I’m going to get totally shitfaced and socialise with real people in the real world.

I’m getting a head-start now. I’m on my second beer, and it’s only 6.52am. That’s okay. I usually drink a slab on Saturdays. (I can’t for the life of me work out why I’m single?).

If any hot babes try to crack onto me? I’ll tell them I’m a priest on sabbatical. That I’m celibate, and I really appreciate the offer, but I’m only I interested in their souls. And guess what will happen? That will only make them try harder. Women like a challenge. They’ll say things like, ‘I’ve always wanted to sleep with a priest.’ I’ll say, ‘You’ll have to find one who doesn’t have the high moral standards I have then.’ When they start begging, I’ll go, ‘Look. Just this once, okay? But only out of pure charity. For your benefit.’ When they stop crying tears of joy, I’ll chuck in, ‘Do you like doggy?’

Anyway Mum, I might go and have a bit of a break now. I’ll write a bit more later. I’ll tell you about the barking dogs on my postie round, and how an Alsatian nearly chewed my arm off the other day. And how I love animals like dogs and cats, but I swear I'll kick the next dog to death that attacks me, and claim self-defence.

Love David.


Missus est
Only 1200 houses to go.

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