We are children of discipline.  We dream filthy dreams while looking over our shoulders for our fathers to raise their hands.  We have all cheated and lied.  The three women at left toil daily as nurses at a charity hospital.  They do much to increase the overall goodness of the planet.  At night, they dress as cowfolk and stage extravagent orgies of sex and song.  They deserve that happiness, and heaven erupts into loud and furious applause at their indulgences.  But the simple pleasures of animal behavior twist into self-torture when exposed to daylight.  This is how you were trained.  When will you people realize that there was no serpent, that the apple is simply a byproduct of freewill  and that the seemingly perverted is biologically expected.

I have seen businessmen hire Bavarian pretzelmakers to dance naked while simulating fellatio.  I have seen the invention of blood-flavored yogert.  I have watched a thousand albinos roast in the hot sun.  These spectacles fade into insignificance when one considers the eternity of free gifts and prizes which await us in the afterlife.  It's OK to be greedy about these things.  They await you whether you believe in them or not.  Follow your instincts.  Do what thou wilt.  Let your DNA be your guide.  We'll still always love and protect you.

Don't be frustrated that the immense tides of history wash away our greatest achievements.  In the scope of eternity, a single monkey will duplicate the entire body of knowledge and creativity of our species.  Have some pasta.  Enjoy a good book.  Let the chimps do it.

I had an aunt who could type 800 words a minute.  Tourists came from hundreds of miles to see the "fastest fingers in central Ohio".  One tragic day, she broke a nail.  It flew with tremendous force and imbedded itself in the eye cavity of an unlucky spectator.  While the unfortunate man dug at his eyeball to remove the errant fingernail, my aunt brought her fingers into her mouth and bit off her sinful digits.

This was a woman of great reverance, an avid churchgoer who let a random unfortunate event rob the world of a Guiness recordholder.  She was never again able to express herself through her beloved Smith-Carona.  She never again was able to creat the perfect 7-layer salad for our reunion picnics or create vast diaramas of saints on her etch-a-sketch.  She lived out the rest of her life, if you can call it living, washing dishes with her feet at our neighborhood Denny's.  Let her example be a warning light to the rest of us.  Enjoy yourself with the partner of your choice.  Eat a double serving of lasagna.  Mock the demons of temperence.  You only live once.  Take it from someone who knows.