Their very act of denial is an act of
aggression. By bringing death to those haters we are doing no more
than restoring peace. And you would do well to remember what it
says on gravestones. Do the letters RIP mean anything to you?”
“They mean ‘Rest in Peace’,
don’t they?”
“Exactly. So by killing a
Dryvellism denier you are simply restoring him to peace. And there
can’t be anything wrong with bringing peace to people, can there
now?”
“Why, certainly not, Master
Jeremiah. I sure am glad that I met you. You’re always so good at
explaining things and making everything clear to me.”
United Against Hate
Pay attention to your enemies
because
they are the first to discover
your mistakes.
Antisthenes
The temporary success of his
Diana scheme had kindled big dreams in Jeremiah. Seeing crowds of
people flocking to his temple made him think of expanding, of
becoming the leader of temples all around the country, and even of
turning Dryvellism into the nation’s main religion or even the only
permitted state religion. In all of these dreams, or shall we call
them fantasies, he himself, Master Jeremiah, was the undisputed
leader, the revered father figure and possibly even statesman. “And
why not?” he said to himself. “Why not, indeed? There have been
plenty of other theocracies throughout history. Even in our own
modern times such a thing is still possible.”
As a consequence he became
withdrawn and left many of the routine everyday tasks to Sycko, who
had rapidly become his most trusted aide, while he spent his days
dreaming and scheming. The brethren had just begun to resign
themselves to this new state of affairs when Jeremiah re-emerged
and turned the temple into a veritable beehive of activity.
Jeremiah spent half the day on the phone and the other half giving
the brethren sundry instructions. There were banners to make, songs
to practise, flyers to print and hand out, and a score of other
things that kept everyone busy. Sycko found all the work a shock to
his nervous system. Where had his temple gone? The temple of quiet
smokes, drinks and meditation? Taking over Jeremiah’s sporadic
duties during the day was one thing, but being busy all day was
definitely too much. Finally he had an idea. He took a large
comfortable armchair from another room and pushed it into the grand
hall in front of Diana’s shrine. He sat down, lit a fag and gazed
at the Goddess. It wasn’t long before someone came to ask what he
was doing.
“I’m here in devout worship
praying to the Goddess to grant us success.”
From then on he was left alone.
“I can’t believe that worked,” he said quietly and contentedly blew
smoke into the air. “That’s the way to skive, in plain sight and
everyone thinks I’m doing something really useful. Ah, I love work,
I could spend hours watching others do it.”
And with Sycko praying so hard
for the success of their efforts it was no surprise that everything
went smoothly. An innocent outsider might have put it down to a lot
of hard work, but the brethren knew better. “What good fortune that
we had Sycko to pray for all of us,” they said.
Sycko just smiled when he heard
it and said “Ain’t life great”.
Before long Master Jeremiah’s
project was the talk of the town. Since the affair of the weeping
Diana the temple had acquired a certain notoriety and Jeremiah’s
latest idea was designed to have an overwhelming effect. With the
profits from the weeping Diana he managed to hire the town’s
largest concert hall and he even got live TV coverage for the event
he had planned.
But what was the big event to
be? Master Jeremiah had unleashed an enormous publicity campaign to
hammer home the message that Dryvellism and the temple were victims
of hatred. He invited the public to attend a grand show or at least
watch the live coverage where the public could see Dryvellism in
all its glory. Jeremiah had even promised some real miracles.
Public interest
aggression. By bringing death to those haters we are doing no more
than restoring peace. And you would do well to remember what it
says on gravestones. Do the letters RIP mean anything to you?”
“They mean ‘Rest in Peace’,
don’t they?”
“Exactly. So by killing a
Dryvellism denier you are simply restoring him to peace. And there
can’t be anything wrong with bringing peace to people, can there
now?”
“Why, certainly not, Master
Jeremiah. I sure am glad that I met you. You’re always so good at
explaining things and making everything clear to me.”
United Against Hate
Pay attention to your enemies
because
they are the first to discover
your mistakes.
Antisthenes
The temporary success of his
Diana scheme had kindled big dreams in Jeremiah. Seeing crowds of
people flocking to his temple made him think of expanding, of
becoming the leader of temples all around the country, and even of
turning Dryvellism into the nation’s main religion or even the only
permitted state religion. In all of these dreams, or shall we call
them fantasies, he himself, Master Jeremiah, was the undisputed
leader, the revered father figure and possibly even statesman. “And
why not?” he said to himself. “Why not, indeed? There have been
plenty of other theocracies throughout history. Even in our own
modern times such a thing is still possible.”
As a consequence he became
withdrawn and left many of the routine everyday tasks to Sycko, who
had rapidly become his most trusted aide, while he spent his days
dreaming and scheming. The brethren had just begun to resign
themselves to this new state of affairs when Jeremiah re-emerged
and turned the temple into a veritable beehive of activity.
Jeremiah spent half the day on the phone and the other half giving
the brethren sundry instructions. There were banners to make, songs
to practise, flyers to print and hand out, and a score of other
things that kept everyone busy. Sycko found all the work a shock to
his nervous system. Where had his temple gone? The temple of quiet
smokes, drinks and meditation? Taking over Jeremiah’s sporadic
duties during the day was one thing, but being busy all day was
definitely too much. Finally he had an idea. He took a large
comfortable armchair from another room and pushed it into the grand
hall in front of Diana’s shrine. He sat down, lit a fag and gazed
at the Goddess. It wasn’t long before someone came to ask what he
was doing.
“I’m here in devout worship
praying to the Goddess to grant us success.”
From then on he was left alone.
“I can’t believe that worked,” he said quietly and contentedly blew
smoke into the air. “That’s the way to skive, in plain sight and
everyone thinks I’m doing something really useful. Ah, I love work,
I could spend hours watching others do it.”
And with Sycko praying so hard
for the success of their efforts it was no surprise that everything
went smoothly. An innocent outsider might have put it down to a lot
of hard work, but the brethren knew better. “What good fortune that
we had Sycko to pray for all of us,” they said.
Sycko just smiled when he heard
it and said “Ain’t life great”.
Before long Master Jeremiah’s
project was the talk of the town. Since the affair of the weeping
Diana the temple had acquired a certain notoriety and Jeremiah’s
latest idea was designed to have an overwhelming effect. With the
profits from the weeping Diana he managed to hire the town’s
largest concert hall and he even got live TV coverage for the event
he had planned.
But what was the big event to
be? Master Jeremiah had unleashed an enormous publicity campaign to
hammer home the message that Dryvellism and the temple were victims
of hatred. He invited the public to attend a grand show or at least
watch the live coverage where the public could see Dryvellism in
all its glory. Jeremiah had even promised some real miracles.
Public interest
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