The human body as a temple is considered by more than a few spiritual scholars, fitness gurus, health fanatics, and religious figures as the receptacle of pure, unadulterated human essence. It’s the repository of our DNA genome; some say our soul resides within. You’d never know it by the way people treat their bodies like garbage cans. The creation of the first original flesh bag shrine to praise life and the glory of existence with a dozen cheeseburgers, super-sized fries, and 64 oz. Big Gulp soft drink with a big hunk of cake and ice cream for dessert!
The house of the Lord could be considered a sacred temple where the holiest of the holy reside next to the deep fryer. But others claim it’s a place clouded in mystery, located up there somewhere in the sky. A place of sanctuary, refuge, and shelter from life’s storms. It’s not inside the guts, masked in a lowly human form. Yet this heavenly house will hold all the knowledge and secrets of the world’s most elaborate tabernacle. Self-storage for all the collective knowledge and miraculous religious experiences one could imagine in the universe under one skull roof. It’s a tall order for such a small planet. Most people are full of shit in the basic sense, but automatic bodily functions aside, nobody ever said a temple is supposed to be a squeaky-clean place. The smell alone should be enough to convince people that the temple you dwell in stinks.
Most churches are dusty, dark places, and they have a funny smell. I can’t speak for all churches or bodies, but for the record, you don’t need a nose to know which way someone's ill wind blows. Often, the wafting stench comes way before the actual discovery of the source. Imagine the overall odor of a temple being just as stale and foul-smelling as old granny’s Victorian underpants. Cities are no exception, with their own odors and environmental pollution to contend with. Noise pollution, toxic air, and toxic water. Genetically-modified food and poor hygiene habits, along with unlimited petroleum-based plastic, electronic, and appliance byproducts, contribute to the global fouling of the planet. The earth regurgitates, spinning in a slow, burning, decaying orbit. Lucky for us, we won’t be around to witness it.
For too long, we’ve had to endure the comings and goings of complete strangers who want nothing but your money to support their cause. Whether it’s a local or national political party loyalty pledge or just a constant request for financial donations to help fund the never-ending big graft, be it the church or the state, it's always out to get in your wallet. So, sooner or later, if you hang around these types long enough, they’ll get your tax-deductible donations and charitable contributions in their grubby little hands. That’s how it works here and in most allegedly civilized nations. The buck never stops there or anywhere. To go through life with empty pockets and broken promises is the standard routine for clueless, obedient citizens at the busy end of a revolver.
Kick sleeping giants in the nuts and make them moan. Dupe those mental midgets. A swift kick in the ass and a jab in the eye with a pointy stick. Make those dimwit idiots pay through the nose while knocking out their teeth. Suckers and losers, all. Let’s get stupid! It’s a con game for hardworking schmucks. Pay your dime and get educated. Learn the secrets of the world in order to survive another day of getting rooked and clubbed into submission. For the price of 10 cents, you may enter the temple of knowledge, where all the information is gathered. Stacked and tagged on cluttered shelves next to the wall of miscellaneous facts. You decide which one works best for you.
While we’re at it, let’s tell you about your fortune and honor you with a gift card from some fast-food chain restaurant. It’s high drama and bad theater that makes it hard to find an easy way to make any sense out of life. The Anunnaki gods are in cahoots with the lizard people and their extraterrestrial alien ancestors. They’re hanging out in the repository of all combined knowledge and pertinent information of the ages. It’s where the secrets are stored. The rise and fall of empires. Hidden in divine revelations and ancient secrets about past lives and the ones yet to follow. Once you buy your ticket, you’ll know there’s no turning back. Your hand is stamped with the seal of admission, and the sign pointed at your head says all who enter, abandon hope, and pray for miracles. Because you’re absolutely correct, you shouldn’t be here.