Ok, before I get to the meat of this post, I need to remind you that my new book (volume 2) is out, and available at the link there (no, not the upper one, the lower one) at the right-tentacle side of the page. I also need to remind you that the pdf versions of both books are available for a price of “nothing at all”; that is, they are free, as my cephalopodmas gift to you. (It would be extremely tacky of me to remind you that the dead-tree versions are also available, and that if you wish to give them as cephalopodmas gifts to those for whom you have strong feelings of love or hate, you’d better order soon. Lulu has been incredibly fast, but you are as bad as I am, waiting this late before shopping!)

Ok, once you have taken a good look at those PDFs, or (much, much better) have read the actual dead-tree books, you are ready for this story. Once you have seen the reports of kinky preachers, foolish believers, and general tales of blasphemy (there is more than that… but there is a bit of that), you are ready.

Blake Stacey was ready. Blake has copies of my first book. Blake has probably read everything in both books, and still has the fortitude of character to give copies of the book as gifts. Blake is a god among men. (Blake also has a book out, and frankly, if you only have enough money for either mine or his, the smart money is on his. Seriously, click the link. Buy his book. Trust me.)

So anyway, Blake Stacey … let me quote (with permission, of course) his email:

I ordered three copies of THE DIGITAL CUTTLEFISH, VOL. 2 from Lulu.com last week, and today a box from Lulu arrived in the mail. “Hooray!” thought I. “That was faster than I expected.” I opened the box to find three copies of “Faith Journeys: Devotions for Spiritual Enrichment”, by a certain Thomas R. Feller, Jr. I don’t particularly know what to make of this. I think I’d be irritated, if it weren’t so amusing.

I don’t know if Mr. Feller and I got each other’s orders, if this was a Lulu error or a FedEx error, or what, exactly. However, the mental image of three books of Cuttlefish verse arriving on the doorstep of Greenville, North Carolina’s Landmark Baptist Church, addressed to the music director, fills me with what one might call unholy glee.

Yours,
Blake Stacey

Much as I am sorry that Blake Stacey got copies of “Faith Journeys”, I have indulged myself in fantasizing Mr. Feller’s (or, sometimes, his mother’s) face, as he (she) opens the unexpected delivery and finds the “Eulogy for Gary Aldridge“…

Y’know… That verse was the very first that really got me noticed, and I wrote it before I started this blog (ok, technically, it was before I changed this blog over to what it currently is, but shaddup), so it never got any hits or immediate comments, and since I have no verse to go with this story (Blake’s email is poetry itself!), I think I will reprise it. The Reverend Gary Aldridge had, sadly, gone to meet his maker, and no one was happy about that. Some, however, did have a bit of a tee-hee over the condition in which the good Pastor was found… wearing 2 wetsuits, bound with several (11?) ties, and with a dildo (properly covered with a condom) inserted… where I suppose you would expect it to be inserted, I suppose. Clearly, a sad occasion, approached only by Second City’s “Funeral”, the sad tale of a man who was suffocated, by getting his head caught in an economy size can of Van Camp’s Pork & Beans.

Remember, go buy Blake’s book. For cephalpodmas, squidmas, Xmas, christmas, or any other mas you have lounging about failing to contribute to the economy.

We gather here to eulogize
The Pastor and the Man
Old Gary Aldridge, often wise,
Though not his latest plan.

A member of the Christian nation,
Friend of Jerry Falwell,
His last attempt at masturbation
Didn’t go at all well.

For fifteen years, he’d preached the word
A Southern Baptist minister
His death–now, is it just absurd
Or something rather sinister?

How does a person come to wear
Not one wetsuit, but two?
(Although, I know, I should not care
I’m curious–aren’t you?)

I tend to think that, years ago,
He spied a rubber glove,
And wondered “Should I–well, you know–
When God and I make love?”

He tried it on, and found a tube,
Half hidden on his shelf,
Of KY–smiled, and murmered “Lube
Thy neighbor as thy self.”

And minutes later, hard at work,
He felt a little odd
Was this a sin, or just a quirk?
He talked it out with God.

“Is what I’m doing here a sin?
Or is my pleasure Thine?
Is this as bad as skin on skin?
Lord, please, give me a sign!”

So God produced a pamphlet: “Your
Vacation in Aruba!”
And pointed out–right there, page four–
The wetsuits used for SCUBA

See, God’s not really how you think
A deity might be
He’s got a wicked bondage kink
(Just ask His son, J. C.)

So Gary died, not steeped in sin
But following God’s plan;
So straight to Heaven–come on in!
And bring the wetsuits, man!

A story, sure, but it may yet
Explain what happened then.
The moral is, please don’t forget:
Your safeword is “Amen”.