You Know Who Invites You To A Secret Wink Wink At The You Know What

I’m sitting here on a Sunday morning trying to write something for Zoomtard and at the same time trying to put a Bible Study together for a Tuesday evening group I attend and I can’t help but think that vertigo shouldn’t induce screaming.

Fiancé is roaring her head off about Liam Neeson and being stood up by a turquoise Nissan Micra. I think I’ll stop grounding her medicine into a vodka-like South African drink called Wit Blits anymore.

The Bible Study is going to be on Hebrews 11 and will be an ill-disguised attack on the citizenship referendum, which seems to have landslid into victory on Friday. Hebrews 11 is about how Christians should be resident aliens.

After all, why have respect and authority in your community if you aren’t even going to abuse it?

My little brother is in the middle of his Leaving Cert and qualification to his college course is weighing heavy on his small head. He worries that if he doesn’t get enough points for the course at Trinity where they teach you how to screw the poor and get rich off their sweat then his life will be ruined.

Am I bad man for thinking he’d be better off just coming out to Maynooth and forsaking his dream with all the D4 posh accents and the rugby shirts with the collars turned upwards and the loafers and the “yah yahs” and the ski trips and the business breakfasts and the “2 pints of Heino and an MGD now!” and the sheer pretension of it all? He could instead enjoy frugal comforts and the reassurance of community and he could learn that business is all well and good but you need a balance to your life.

I’ll feel differently of course when he graduates (rugby shirt or not) and makes millions that he then gives to me.

Your Correspondent, Needs a closer shave

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