ground
July 15th, 2026
The boys are having another go at the X-Factor.
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@postdoggerel, you mentioned me in the June 24 J&M, so back there I posted “proof of life” a few minutes ago.
https://www.jesusandmo.net/comic/wings/
Thank you, Laripu.
Good to hear from you again.
Nice work. Keep it up.
Thanks, postdoggerel.
He’s one of my favorites, from last year, but with a pun I first made about 15 years ago. I am the bipedal ape with opposable thumbs in question:
Myths are myths, gods are myths, Zeus and Jehovah, Mohammed, Prometheus, and Jesus: they’re all the same.
Ingroups, outgroups, us and them, revelation and revulsion of scapegoats. The tribal impulse: an “other” to blame.
And we know for a fact no Eden existed, no creation, and therefore there was no fall from grace.
No grace to begin with, so no need for a savior. The whole idea is false on its face.
Natural selection made us tribal. Vicious hubristic triumphalists, mumbling hymns of praise.
A bipedal ape with opposable thumbs delivers the upshot, an aphorism: gods work in mythterious ways.
A doctor went to visit a patient in a hospital he had never been to before. He parked his car and approached the building but encountered a maze of wisteria vines. He saw a nurse emerge from the maze and asked, “Where is the gerontology ward?” She replied, “The ward lurks in wisteria’s maze.”
postdoggerel… That hurts.
An in joke to be sure? I had to AI Gerontology and Wisteria…
And I was still non the wiser…
M27, this may help. A perfume maker used all parts of the sheep to make their product except the wool and mammary glands. These were reserved for their shear and udder non-scents.
M27Holts:
Say it it out loud, over and over: “The ward lurks in wisteria’s maze.”
Eventually you’ll stumble over the joke.
Our old friend Laripu has written a poem. It is more meaningful than any drivel I can post as straight up doggerel.
Border
Mama, te extraño! – Every day
I’ve cried,
since they took you away,
at the border of this land,
the USA.
How long
since I saw the sky,
since I could play?
This cold cage hurts. When
can I kiss you again
y Papa tambien?
Creo que Jesús me odia
or he has a heart of stone,
otherwise why
would he leave me
to die,
sick, in this cage, alone?
I’ll never pray, no rezaré más.
No one hears me cry.
El mundo es feo.
Mama, te extraño.
Ah. The pun? Is obvious now and I think I’ve seen it before but just didn’t see it yesterday , sometimes I suffer from filling my head with trivia. In this age of data overload it’s hatd to filter out the noise….
postdoggerel – thank you.
I used Google Translate for the Spanish phrases, and then checked with a native speaker of Mexican Spanish, when I was completing the poem (in 2019). For those who don’t feel like using Google Translate, here are the translations:
Mama, te extraño! = Mama I miss you
y Papa tambien? = and Papa too
Creo que Jesús me odia = I believe Jesus hates me
no rezaré más. = I won’t pray anymore
El mundo es feo. = The world is ugly
Mama, te extraño. = Mama I miss you.
Here’s an odd thing. When I wrote it, I had a little girl in mind. Every time I asked someone what they’ve visualized (without telling then), they’ve said a little boy.
So if you insist that Mohammed only spoke to himself in that cave, you are a Nazi Bigot? Hmmmmm….
And yes my private Eden does exist where I am free to fornicate, drink strong ales and nice single malts and eat beef burgers, bacon butties and meat growlers….no god or religious bigot telling me what to do or think…It’s my garden with it’s own bar and well kept by my dilligent green fingered missus….