Dear Jeexis

Deart BAby Jeekers I have a solemn vow to make at this ungodly hour when I tread th' boards with fear and no small amount of dread.

Dear Jeeves I swear that if you will do one small thing for me I will renounce my heathen ways and stop listening for God's voice in th' rustling leaves and the cadences and counterpoints in my mind.

If you will grant me one small boon I will instead repair myself to your father's house of th' Baptist Church of Granby ("Sunday- It's Mind Over Matress!" sp.!) and fall to my knees and never more spleak of evolution or be tempted by th' weeds of the forest. I will kneel in th' house of worship and swear off all manner of pleasures and comforts and wear one of those fuckin' things on my leg (a surplice or suplice or some shit -ed.) and whip myself with ropes soaked in glue and trailed thru broken glass.

No more will I shout of get ready 'cause here I come or we're all sensitive people or shotgun, shot it for me run now but instead sing of you and of your wonders.

I say this that I may sleep this night and dream of things other than the usual horrors that haunt my repose. I pray that I may dream instead of cherubs and seraphs and the sun shining through th' fine hairs on Kirstin Dunst's inner thighs.

Yea, grant me but one thing. And I will be your servant and messenger and won't think bad thoughts and want to drive into SUVs with yeller ribbons.

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