From: Saul of Tiresum
To: The Televisionians
"In God we trust." And I suppose most of us do. Although I'm not so sure it's such a wise move considering most of God's most faithful and obedient servants seem to suffer particularly nasty and sticky deaths. Look at Jesus, for example; his last words were "Oh Lord why hath thou forsaken me." I think we should all take the hint.
After all, one doesn't want to end one's days transformed into a pillar of salt or have one's intestine made into elasticated hair scrunchies for wealthy Roman matrons, does one?
That is why I am writing this epistle to you now, perched on this convenient rocky outcrop surrounded by peaceful woodland creatures in the only English-style country garden in Judea while being painted by a nice man called Holman Hunt.
I mean who in his right mind wants to be shaken from his bed when the cock crows and get asked a lot of impertinent questions by greasy-looking strangers? Not me, no siree. Surely it is better to spend our autumn years polishing the thirty-piece silver fish knife set we received for Christmas.
Amen.
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