>
>"THE BORG" cube.co.uk> wrote in message
>news:VRm0k.50759$_c7.30836@newsfe16.ams2...

>> Once upon a time a human male was talking to God.
>> He was saying farewell as he was leaving on a long journey.
>>
>> "I would like a last memory of you God" said the human.
>>
>> And God wondered.
>> Would it be a song?
>> A kiss?
>> A hug?
>> One last look into his eyes?
>> Perhaps a memory or moment they had shared.
>>
>> But no - the human unzipped his trousers and presented his penis to God.
>> "I would like you to wrap your hand around my penis and make it go hard"
>> said the human.
>>
>> God thought to himself "What? You do not even want to LOOK at me?"
>> And the human gazed with rapture at his penis and he watched God make it
>> go
>> hard.
>> And this was his last memory of the Divine Being.
>>
>> As he left he asked that now that God had made his penis go hard if he may
>> masturbate in front of God.
>> God said no.
>> Get out.
>> And then he added silently.
>> "I will not have you masturbate in front of my Angels".
>> THE BORG
>>

>""
>I once had this vision of God's castle [in my sleep]. It rose up from the
>plains like a tall spire. The world around it was dark, shadowy, like
>walking upon Scottish moors upon a full moon where the mists swing doorways
>to and fro in the dim light. Upon the plains, the animals had come, and
>were mild and existed with hope for entrance to the castle of God. But, the
>doors were closed, for around God's castle there existed this giant moat
>behind a great wall that was taller than even the tallest giraffe. The
>animals were held out and they were sad.
>
>But it was not of God's doing I remember in my dreams sight. For the doors
>to the bridge by which a crossing across the moat could be made, stood
>always open...except for a simple key that every animal possessed, but few
>seem to know how to use. I innately knew what the key was, since after all,
>it was my dream, LOL, and all the animals had to do was be a single
>thing...'Sincere'.
>
>But they didn't know how.
>
>Of course, in my dream, I got to be the hero...and by hook or crook, I won a
>lottery or something, and for that night of the dream, I got to travel
>across the moat's bridge and into the castle, for after all, I was
>'sincere'.
>
>Sincerity can be a terrible thing you know. It did not take long and I
>realized that I was deficating all over God's fine rugs when inside. I was
>urinating all over the place...and didn't know how to stop. I yelped and
>cried...'Oh, what have I done to God's fine things'. I was not just
>embarrassed but mortified...and I felt so so so unworthy. Why me...why
>this pisser and deficator of ugly things that smelled to high heaven?
>
>I creeped over to a corner by a fireplace, and lay down, trying to maintain
>my dignity while minimizing my impact upon God's house. I was so so
>sorry...but I didn't really know how to act. So...I went to sleep...and I
>awoke from my dream. ""
>
>------------
>Moral of the story is that converse to the old addage that it is better to
>rule in hell than serve in heaven, it may be far better to be a dog in God's
>domain, for no matter one's status, it remains 'heaven'.
>
>-------------
>Thanks to the Borg for inspiring this little story [in me, pitiful as it is,
>ha]. It was a real dream I had...embellished a bit here perhaps. Borg has
>an uncanny way of seeing things, unique. I've said it before, that Sarte
>said that uniqueness may be one of the rarest things in the human
>experience; and rarety is the impetus of 'value'. This why I value Borg so
>much. Like rare gold or diamonds, I appreciate her uniqueness as a
>treasure. God's and penis hard-ons notwithstanding, her allegories hold a
>lot of water with plenty of room for personal abstraction and application,
>like any piece of fine art.
>
>