Just hear those key chains jing-a-ling, ring-ting ting-a-ling, too
Come on it’s lovely leather for some bondage together with you
Inside the music’s playing
and tops are saying, “soo-wee”
oh my, that’s lovely leather for some bondage together with me

Giddy-up, giddy-up, giddy-up, you slut
and bark like a mutt
you do what I say or I’ll spank your butt
giddy-up, giddy-up, giddy-up, it’s grand…
stop using your hand
I’m riding your hole with my pole
through a butchy fairy land

Your cheeks are red from slapping
you got a strapping from me
then it’s high in the saddle
with a belt or a paddle we’ll be
Come on it’s lovely leather for some bondage together with me

there’s a happy feeling nothing in the world can buy
when I tie the cords around your balls and watch you cry
it’ll be nearly like a picture spread
in drummer magazine
these dominant scenes are the themes that separate men from queens

let’s take the road to sodom
and use a condom or two
Come on it’s lovely leather for some bondage together with you

©1994

HILE Most folks incorrectly think that Cinco de Mayo is either Mexican Independence Day or else a small town in the West of Ireland, for us here in Buffalo’s Historic Allentown district, it is the Annual Re-enactment of the Battle of Puebla, hosted by our own Cozumel Grill. The hosts play the role of the Mexican Army, held in their fortress by the encroaching French – played in this annual event by scads of tourists from Amherst, Williamsville, the Tonawandas, Cheektowaga and the South Towns. The role of trapped Mexican Peasants is played – most often unwillingly, by area residents who must fight the French invaders at every turn, keeping them off our property, keeping them from stealing our shopping carts, keeping them from parking in our no-parksing spaces and, of course, fighting them for the few available parking spaces we have.

The local soldiers at Cozumel Grill yield the barricades early, letting the French in for the happy bribe of $10 and suddenly we poor peasants are inundated by men and women with bad fashion sense and too much cologne. They come from all directions, charging the fortress. They look hot in their finery, I will say. But this is before the battle is enjoined. Muscles flexing and booty shaking they walk gaily (straightly?) to their doom. Little do they know that our famous Mexican Soldiers are about to rape their wallets and destroy their minds with too much tequila.

Once within the gates of the fortress they discover it’s too small, too loud and too packed with their fellow French fools. In the heat and press they find themselves suddenly intoxicated and powerless to defeat our most secret weapon: the sombrero-wearing shot girls.

This stymied and repulsed, the French are forced back out the door onto the streets of our fair town where they ravage the countryside, get shot at (!!!) by B-B guns and yell at our dutiful uniformed officials.

Only the few stranglers doing the walk of shame show in the morning after. But these are the French… and they will be back to surrender again next year.

E SURE TO get your tickets for this years Smackown at the Sepulchre in Jerusalem. Tickets went on sale last week, but I’m sure there is some standing room left! (Of course the last-minute flight to Jerusalem will be a bit pricey…)

Ticket sales will begin next Sunday for the 2009 Smackdown at the Sepulchre, an annual amateur boxing match between the Greek and Armenian dioceses.

The Smackdown at the Sepulchre series was designed as part of Lenten and Advent celebrations, and will be broadcast pay-per-view on Ancient Faith Radio.

According to the SCOBA Athletic Commission, the main card has not yet been selected for the match, although historically the match has been a ten-on-ten brawl rather than an organized fight.

I’m certain this is what the Ecumenical Patriarch has in mind saying that we should submit to the “mother church” so as to learn the ancient ways… Even in our most serious, we have failed to come to fisticuffs (which are the vestment worn by priests and deacons in cage matches).

What happens when you cross the Paschal Troparion with far too many cultural references?

You’ve heard of kosher salt? Now there’s a Christian variety. Retired barber Joe Godlewski says he was inspired by television chefs who repeatedly recommended kosher salt in recipes. “I said, ‘What the heck’s the matter with Christian salt?’” Godlewski said, sipping a beer in the living room of his home in unincorporated Cresaptown, a western Maryland mountain community.

Ah, a retired barber. With a Polish name. In the Rural south. In the mountains. Is saying something stupid and vaguely Anti-Semitic.

OK. I can handle all that.

And, at least the paper reminds folks that kosher foods are not “blessed by a Rabbi” but rather only examined. And Kosher Salt isn’t “kosher” (like a kosher steak would be) because all salt is, technically, kosher. I’m reminded of the Pious Orthodox on the Lenten Food mailing list who refused to trust the designation “Pareve” as indicative of meat- and dairy-free food, because you can’t eat food that is dedicated to idols (!!!!!)

I’m amused that an Episcopal Priest is involved in the “blessing” of the salt. I’m guessing they’re using the “exorcism and blessing of salt”. We used to have this prayer on the wall in the sacristy at Smokey Mary’s

God’s creature, salt of the Earth, I cast out from you any echo of evil by the living God, by the one true God, by the holy God, through whom all things have their being. May you be a purified, living, heavenly salt, a means of health for those who believe, a medicine for body and soul for all who make use of you. May all evil fancies be driven far from the place where you are sprinkled. And let every unclean spirit be repulsed by the power of almighty God.

Almighty, everlasting God, I humbly appeal to your mercy and goodness to bless this creature, salt, that you have given for mankind’s use. May all who use it find in it a remedy for body and mind. And may everything that it touches be feed from uncleanness and any influence of evil through your holy name, Amen.

It’s worth noting that the Priest is probably giggling whilst collecting his fees. I hope.

Good thoughts for Lent… Spoiled Idiots… all of us.

Peekaboo Patriarchs or Whack-vla-dyka.

Been a heady day on the blog. Time for Ceiling Cat.

The worship space was brightly lit, and row upon row of devotees stood at wooden benches gazing in adoration at white machines of varying shapes and sizes. A glass staircase lead upwards, where further rows of worshippers were doing much the same as those downstairs. People wearing bright shirts stood behind other desks, and names appeared on large screens. In the upper sanctuary a gathering of the faithful sat on wide comfortable pews and listened to a sermon.

OR ANYONE Who enjoys shopping at the Apple Store, Dave’s story will be familiar.

If you want to likewise cast your pump (or boot, or duck shoes), BoingBoing provides us with a mailing address.