This Saturday, I will venture into the unknown. This Saturday, I risk life and limb to hang out with a group of shady characters, because once again, I couldn’t say no. This Saturday, I will volunteer my time helping with a Child Identification Program sponsored by none other than our local coven of Masons here in Southwest GA.
That's right - the Masons - those mysterious, Satanic, shape-shifting, reptilian humanoids who built the Pyramids, Stonehenge, the Eiffel Tower and the bridge over the River Kwai. The very ilk to which we owe such unexplainable phenomena as the JFK assassination, the Roswell sightings, the Apollo Moon landings, Chia pets and the mysterious omission of the orange from the Froot of the Loom brand. They say every President we’ve ever had, with the exception of Jimmy Carter, was a Mason. On a side note, it’s really saying something when your Presidency sucks so bad that even Satanists won’t claim you. Maybe the explanation for his continued boneheaded political involvement is that he’s still trying to prove that he’s worthy of Masonic acceptance. But I digress. Point is, Masons, according to legend, are power-hungry, Satan worshipping beasts, bent on total World domination.
So why would I, the father of 3 small children, lay it all on the line to hang out with a bunch of fire-breathing dragons? Because I was beguiled by one of their smooth-talking brethren. When asked to help by “brother Calvin” (name changed to protect the brotherhood of the Masons), I found myself slipping in and out of consciousness. His words dripped off his cloven tongue like honey from the comb and sounded like the sweet, melodious song of the harpies. The more he spoke, the more I became enticed and intrigued. My resolve melted away and I soon found myself a willing vessel through which he could do his bidding. “Yes master,” I said, “anything you say master!” The room began to spin and I went into a trance. I experienced flashes of light and colors I had never seen before. There were mirrors on the ceiling… pink champagne on ice. And then he said 'We are all just prisoners here, of our own device.' And in the master's chambers, they gathered for the feast. They stab it with their steely knives, but they just can't kill the beast. Last thing I remember, I was running for the door. I had to find the passage back to the place I was before. 'Relax,' said the night man, 'We are programmed to receive. You can check-out any time you like, but you can never leave!
I woke with a start as he slithered out of my office and into the night air. I was shaking from a cold sweat as I realized I had just been bewitched by a Mason. I had given away 6 hours of my life (note the number ‘6’ – only a crocodilian Mason would ask for 6 hours!). And so… this Saturday… instead of sitting at home watching Georgia Tech and Florida State in 50 inches of high definition, I will be hangin’ with the Masons.
That's right - the Masons - those mysterious, Satanic, shape-shifting, reptilian humanoids who built the Pyramids, Stonehenge, the Eiffel Tower and the bridge over the River Kwai. The very ilk to which we owe such unexplainable phenomena as the JFK assassination, the Roswell sightings, the Apollo Moon landings, Chia pets and the mysterious omission of the orange from the Froot of the Loom brand. They say every President we’ve ever had, with the exception of Jimmy Carter, was a Mason. On a side note, it’s really saying something when your Presidency sucks so bad that even Satanists won’t claim you. Maybe the explanation for his continued boneheaded political involvement is that he’s still trying to prove that he’s worthy of Masonic acceptance. But I digress. Point is, Masons, according to legend, are power-hungry, Satan worshipping beasts, bent on total World domination.
So why would I, the father of 3 small children, lay it all on the line to hang out with a bunch of fire-breathing dragons? Because I was beguiled by one of their smooth-talking brethren. When asked to help by “brother Calvin” (name changed to protect the brotherhood of the Masons), I found myself slipping in and out of consciousness. His words dripped off his cloven tongue like honey from the comb and sounded like the sweet, melodious song of the harpies. The more he spoke, the more I became enticed and intrigued. My resolve melted away and I soon found myself a willing vessel through which he could do his bidding. “Yes master,” I said, “anything you say master!” The room began to spin and I went into a trance. I experienced flashes of light and colors I had never seen before. There were mirrors on the ceiling… pink champagne on ice. And then he said 'We are all just prisoners here, of our own device.' And in the master's chambers, they gathered for the feast. They stab it with their steely knives, but they just can't kill the beast. Last thing I remember, I was running for the door. I had to find the passage back to the place I was before. 'Relax,' said the night man, 'We are programmed to receive. You can check-out any time you like, but you can never leave!
I woke with a start as he slithered out of my office and into the night air. I was shaking from a cold sweat as I realized I had just been bewitched by a Mason. I had given away 6 hours of my life (note the number ‘6’ – only a crocodilian Mason would ask for 6 hours!). And so… this Saturday… instead of sitting at home watching Georgia Tech and Florida State in 50 inches of high definition, I will be hangin’ with the Masons.
