And Now A Bobby Lightfoot Parable Of Inspiration

One dark night during a tour through Th' Valley Of Death The Guitarist and I languished drunk and bellicose in a field in Illinois. Above us the heavens spun slowly, the stars bright and distinct in the clear air.

Look yonder, quoth The Guitarist, lo, it is the Big Dipper.

Nay, said I, impatient and filled (fill-ed) with bile. Verily, it is Orion.

I say unto you that you are wrong, quoth The Guitarist, and further, that thine brains are shit.

Smoke my pole, twinkie, responded I. I say to you that yonder is th' Constellation of Orion, and furthermore, to mistake it for Ursa Major is an affront to me and to The Lord Our God.

Very well, up and spake The Guitarist. Upon this difference shall we place a quarter-ounce of fine hydroponically grown weed, that we may wager and find who is in th' right.

Be it so, quoth I. A quarter-ounce of the finest smoke shall I wager that this is verily th' Constellation Of Orion.

And then there arose an angelic choir, and a clap of thunder spake, and who should stand before us but Jesus clad all in silk with a wide-brimmed floppy hat and platforms in that field in Saybrook, Illinois.

Down to our knees in wonder and fear we fell before Jesus, quaking and rending our hair. I, having hair of one half-inch in length, was reduced to pulling at my armpits and chest. And verily did it fucking hurt.

Verily do I say unto you that I am JESUS and I will resolve this wager of musicians, Jesus spake, for I am the Lamb of Peace and it is tearful unto me to see this discord.

Do either among you possess Eyeglasses? Jesus asked.

Tremulous and full of curiosity The Guitarist produced a pair of Eyeglasses and Jesus took these from him. Carefully removing the lenses, The Lord placed one lens in the large hole in his right hand and then placed one lens in the hole in his other hand. Then did Jesus of Aramathea hold one arm close and one at arm's length and along the line of sight of these lenses did Jesus look heavenward.

Come, my lambs, spake Jesus, and look upon the heavens through The Stigmatic Telescope, and argue no more but decide who is to have the hydroponic weed and who shall not this night.

And trembling, I came unto The Lord and peered through the lenses at the wondrous night sky. Fucking hell, quoth I, and a million curses! It is indeed The Big Dipper!

And then laughing did The Guitarist and The Lord repair to The Shady Inn Motel and smoke deeply of the quarter ounce of hydroponic weed and watch in laughter for many hours The Extreme Elimination Challenge on Spike TV.

And lo I was left without, to wander in the parking area until checkout.

With The Drummer.