Aperçus of A Religious Flavour

Crashing helicopters fail to dilute strength of Almighty

Ethan Switch - Monday, 4 April, 2005 - 20:03:54 - print it raw

Rendering a verdict that still claims, to this day, a resolute finality, the leader of the Catholic church, Pope John Paul II, remains dead and lifeless. Despite the late rush of a feeding tube to sustain some semblance of a diminishing life, the Pontiff wistfully sang out a final "Amen," before walking off into the heavenly embrace of his particular God.

News organisations and betting pools flustered into overdrive along the final days of his raspy voice. Counting down to his eventual death, the jockeys found sudden bursts as notices of his every deterioration in health proved hopeful in their mission of a close out. Tallies and counters broke down with heavy betting and wild gestures of a stock market floor of yore.

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God is in the wings amongst the shadows of relief

Ethan Switch - Friday, 1 April, 2005 - 19:52:50 - print it raw

Showing no reprieve for death, it's alleged that his holy smokes, the Pope, suffered an attack by Vatican officials on Thursday night. The Pontiff, in a persistant not-quite-vegetative state, was dealt a heady dose of the last rites, otherwise known as the Sacrament of Anointing. The second such time the act has been performed on his breathing and still warm body in all its 26 years at the helm of the papacy.

Quick to dismiss the rumours as a forewarning toward a death—possibly at a time sure to conflict with that of Britian's Prince Charles marriage to one of his co-conspirators, thus regaining the stranglehold on a media burst—the Church seeks to remind people of the other use of the ritual. Less in times of fear and suffering, the Roman Catholics are leaning on the healing powers of the Sacrament of Anointing, the recharging of a life as it splutters toward a dark abyss. Once known as the pep and buzz to extending a life, connotations in the past few decades have mired it's vocation as the final touch of death.

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Free toaster oven and sandwich presses with religion

Ethan Switch - Thursday, 31 March, 2005 - 18:59:30 - print it raw

Drains continue to siphon the recent Easter celebrations of zombies and undead of the world. Leader of the Roman Catholics, the Pope, tried in vain to speak out of his living conditions and rent. Taken away from the sunshine's spotlight, denied by rights of incapacitation, the annual Easter speech sees a complete run in wishes fall short to the death.

Gargling across the balcony of his studio apartment over St. Peter's Square at the Vatican, the Pontiff was hauled away from the scene after a short attempt to enunciate mere words.

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Bonfire this casualty, screams for food and spectacle

Ethan Switch - Friday, 18 March, 2005 - 18:20:30 - print it raw

Grabbing a head start on the peak hour traffic, one lone man surrendered his hatchback to the shoulder of the Western Distributor breaking on to the Sydney Harbour Bridge. With no actual shoulder to speak of, cars behind—towing drivers half-asleep with ears copulating mobile phones—slammed into the right lane, took up fists and continued careening onward up the freeway.

Billowing like the adjective only knows how, smoke slithered out from under his hood. Seconds obesified into minutes as the slither of off yellow soon turned into a womping pillow of solid white, enveloping the entirety of the vehicle. Standing atop and with his shirt and pants removed, the man gestured toward the oncoming traffic with one hand while cradling an acceptance from the heavens in the other. Like watching a maestro commandeer an orchestra from their sleep, the man danced a jig as the sirens of the fire department screamed ever closer.

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Kings, Queen and the royal tanning farms

Ethan Switch - Monday, 14 March, 2005 - 16:39:36 - print it raw

After weeks on months, the royal flushing of the media system is near complete. Four turns of the pagentry of a royal connection—tangental, relational—dovetailing around the fall of one weekend.

Flying in on his royal oats tour with a handful of bare breasts for show, Prince Charles continued his footprint of marital sobriety and shock to invade the locals amongst sheep in New Zealand. Keeping up the fine tradition of holding back true familiarity with the British monarchy, the King in a stasis of forever limbo, fielded rather lack lustre crowds during his time in the land of the aborigines.

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Clarity of definition is lost in the bloody wind

Ethan Switch - Friday, 4 February, 2005 - 19:18:43 - print it raw

Straddling a corpse primed to the teeth with death over the unliving skin, a young man was pulled over by his startled schoolmates on the way to their private Catholic school. Visibly upset, a blind dog sitting by the roadside where the course pelvic work out was taking place asked what manner of God would forbid such a thing. Talking through their slashed throats, the leader of group that had pulled the thrusting boy off the other, rebutted with a silent bow, palms clapsed like an Academy Awards audience member.

Another member of the Slashed Throats, pointing toward a grassy knoll, revealed the location of a voyeur in their midst. With the latest round of constant health fears surrounding Pope John Paul II, it's believed that the man in the iron cast leg discreetly taking footage was an agent for the Vatican. Out perhaps for a day from solitary refinement or even as an excursion in learning the trials of an ordinary person's life, he's attempt at a hasty escape was thwarted by the absence of a second leg.

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