Smorgasbord Schadenfreude

An acquaintance of mine who shall remain nameless, a self-confessed Christian who nevertheless often chooses Sunday brunch-going over church-going, has recently returned from vacationing in the Nevada desert with a shameful rash that shall also remain nameless: proof, if any were needed, that what happens in Vegas does not necessarily stay in Vegas, no matter how much expensive ointment you slather over it. He claims that this amusing skin condition is merely the result of an allergic reaction to his hotel's all-you-can-eat buffet: further proving, as I gleefully pointed out, that God does not always help those who help themselves. No doubt, I suggested, such sufferings were sent by the Lord to try him, much as he was sent by the hostess to try the spicy pork dumplings, and both the Lord and the spicy pork dumplings obviously move in mysterious ways.