Richter & I.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

We are Holy Men™, and we regularly practice "laying on wrench", also known as "appliance healing" or "Make the fucking thing work by INTIMIDATION".  Richter once scared a Fiat into functioning.  True story.

Many years ago, Richter and I were tasked with a Holy Quest™, in which we were tasked with finding just 50 honest people in Providence, lest the LORD grow wrathful and smite the city for its iniquities.  The result was the great Providence flood a few years back.  Sorry truth is, we found 50 honest people in about an hour, but then we got into the Maker's Mark, and God got sick of waiting and trashed the joint while we were passed out.  We felt kinda bad about that one.

We were tasked with CLEANSING THE TEMPLE, but Richter hogged up all the fun.  Before I even had my hip waders on, he'd sharpened a basketball and taken out the entire mafia, including a 3 pointer from way downtown that beheaded Vinnie "The Butthole" Garbanzo.  I was peeved, I can tell you.  I had to settle for tying Vinnie's brother to the Jeep's trailer hitch and taking him out for a drag.

Richter WRITES the hymns, and I MAKE the people sing them.  Castrato, if need be.

Thus endeth the lesson, unless Richter has anything to add.

Or Kill Me.

[Junkenstein]

I'm not really a Holy Man™ but I am striving for added Holy™ daily. I'm not there yet, but I try hard.

Of late, I have neglected my most Sacred Crowbar. It had been many a day since I beat the truth from an inanimate object. To rectify this grievance, I have begun to bring it EVERYWHERE. It is my walking stick. My pointing stick. My reaching Stick. My "Just holding a Crowbar while you talk to me" stick. And it was Good. Joy has been found, and the opportunity to extract vengeance upon your surroundings arises more often that you'd think.

Opportunity knocks. Holy™ carries a Crowbar.

I preach to these savages in this Godless foreign land. I spake unto them the most ancient of words "NO." I try to limit any explanation to single grunts and mime. I largely succeed. My sermons are short, yet they seem to keep the spirit at heart even if only temporarily.

My exile has been long and hard. My return shall be glorious. My people will not remember me in song, or fondly. But they will remember.

Advice on how to up my Holy™?

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I'm not really a Holy Man™ but I am striving for added Holy™ daily. I'm not there yet, but I try hard.

Of late, I have neglected my most Sacred Crowbar. It had been many a day since I beat the truth from an inanimate object. To rectify this grievance, I have begun to bring it EVERYWHERE. It is my walking stick. My pointing stick. My reaching Stick. My "Just holding a Crowbar while you talk to me" stick. And it was Good. Joy has been found, and the opportunity to extract vengeance upon your surroundings arises more often that you'd think.

Opportunity knocks. Holy™ carries a Crowbar.

I preach to these savages in this Godless foreign land. I spake unto them the most ancient of words "NO." I try to limit any explanation to single grunts and mime. I largely succeed. My sermons are short, yet they seem to keep the spirit at heart even if only temporarily.

My exile has been long and hard. My return shall be glorious. My people will not remember me in song, or fondly. But they will remember.

Advice on how to up my Holy™?

 

I think you have it covered.  But instead of "NO", try "SHUT UP" or "BECAUSE FUCK YOU, THAT'S WHY".

[Suu]

We are Holy Men™, and we regularly practice "laying on wrench", also known as "appliance healing" or "Make the fucking thing work by INTIMIDATION".  Richter once scared a Fiat into functioning.  True story.

Many years ago, Richter and I were tasked with a Holy Quest™, in which we were tasked with finding just 50 honest people in Providence, lest the LORD grow wrathful and smite the city for its iniquities.  The result was the great Providence flood a few years back.  Sorry truth is, we found 50 honest people in about an hour, but then we got into the Maker's Mark, and God got sick of waiting and trashed the joint while we were passed out.  We felt kinda bad about that one.

We were tasked with CLEANSING THE TEMPLE, but Richter hogged up all the fun.  Before I even had my hip waders on, he'd sharpened a basketball and taken out the entire mafia, including a 3 pointer from way downtown that beheaded Vinnie "The Butthole" Garbanzo.  I was peeved, I can tell you.  I had to settle for tying Vinnie's brother to the Jeep's trailer hitch and taking him out for a drag.

Richter WRITES the hymns, and I MAKE the people sing them.  Castrato, if need be.

Thus endeth the lesson, unless Richter has anything to add.

Or Kill Me.

I just wish we had time to purge the East Side, but the West Side will never be the same.

[Richter]

I'm not really a Holy Man™ but I am striving for added Holy™ daily. I'm not there yet, but I try hard.

Of late, I have neglected my most Sacred Crowbar. It had been many a day since I beat the truth from an inanimate object. To rectify this grievance, I have begun to bring it EVERYWHERE. It is my walking stick. My pointing stick. My reaching Stick. My "Just holding a Crowbar while you talk to me" stick. And it was Good. Joy has been found, and the opportunity to extract vengeance upon your surroundings arises more often that you'd think.

Opportunity knocks. Holy™ carries a Crowbar.

I preach to these savages in this Godless foreign land. I spake unto them the most ancient of words "NO." I try to limit any explanation to single grunts and mime. I largely succeed. My sermons are short, yet they seem to keep the spirit at heart even if only temporarily.

My exile has been long and hard. My return shall be glorious. My people will not remember me in song, or fondly. But they will remember.

Advice on how to up my Holy™?

HOLY is what happens when you stop doing it to BE the HOLY guy, but because YOUR PEOPLE NEED THAT SHIT.

See this is the fucked up thing;
Show most people an elevated position, and some  will want to BE in it just because.  These are the last people who should be, they jsut want an ego trip. 
Some, as a result, will approach it blathering about "service", and how being a doormat for your fellow peeps is some sort of virtue.  It's not, it's only a pale justification for your lack of spine.
HOLY  cannot be stopped.  HOLY is a sneeze or an orgasm.  HOLY has critical mass.  HOLY is breathing the truth to the others, and then being able to hear it when they spout the good stuff back.  HOLY is Mohamed Ali, in that was NEVER too good to hone his basics. 

Don't preach to please, preach to make them squirm and twitch on what you REALLY THINK. 

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I'm not really a Holy Man™ but I am striving for added Holy™ daily. I'm not there yet, but I try hard.

Of late, I have neglected my most Sacred Crowbar. It had been many a day since I beat the truth from an inanimate object. To rectify this grievance, I have begun to bring it EVERYWHERE. It is my walking stick. My pointing stick. My reaching Stick. My "Just holding a Crowbar while you talk to me" stick. And it was Good. Joy has been found, and the opportunity to extract vengeance upon your surroundings arises more often that you'd think.

Opportunity knocks. Holy™ carries a Crowbar.

I preach to these savages in this Godless foreign land. I spake unto them the most ancient of words "NO." I try to limit any explanation to single grunts and mime. I largely succeed. My sermons are short, yet they seem to keep the spirit at heart even if only temporarily.

My exile has been long and hard. My return shall be glorious. My people will not remember me in song, or fondly. But they will remember.

Advice on how to up my Holy™?

HOLY is what happens when you stop doing it to BE the HOLY guy, but because YOUR PEOPLE NEED THAT SHIT.

See this is the fucked up thing;
Show most people an elevated position, and some  will want to BE in it just because.  These are the last people who should be, they jsut want an ego trip. 
Some, as a result, will approach it blathering about "service", and how being a doormat for your fellow peeps is some sort of virtue.  It's not, it's only a pale justification for your lack of spine.
HOLY  cannot be stopped.  HOLY is a sneeze or an orgasm.  HOLY has critical mass.  HOLY is breathing the truth to the others, and then being able to hear it when they spout the good stuff back.  HOLY is Mohamed Ali, in that was NEVER too good to hone his basics. 

Don't preach to please, preach to make them squirm and twitch on what you REALLY THINK.

TESTIFY!

[Richter]

We are Holy Men™, and we regularly practice "laying on wrench", also known as "appliance healing" or "Make the fucking thing work by INTIMIDATION".  Richter once scared a Fiat into functioning.  True story.

Many years ago, Richter and I were tasked with a Holy Quest™, in which we were tasked with finding just 50 honest people in Providence, lest the LORD grow wrathful and smite the city for its iniquities.  The result was the great Providence flood a few years back.  Sorry truth is, we found 50 honest people in about an hour, but then we got into the Maker's Mark, and God got sick of waiting and trashed the joint while we were passed out.  We felt kinda bad about that one.

We were tasked with CLEANSING THE TEMPLE, but Richter hogged up all the fun.  Before I even had my hip waders on, he'd sharpened a basketball and taken out the entire mafia, including a 3 pointer from way downtown that beheaded Vinnie "The Butthole" Garbanzo.  I was peeved, I can tell you.  I had to settle for tying Vinnie's brother to the Jeep's trailer hitch and taking him out for a drag.

Richter WRITES the hymns, and I MAKE the people sing them.  Castrato, if need be.

Thus endeth the lesson, unless Richter has anything to add.

Or Kill Me.

My mistake, I got carried away.

The 50 honest dudes were a hoot, last I saw they were plywood parasailing in Hurricane Sandy to the guitar solo from "Millenium King". 

The Good Reverend has it here.  I am off to meditate on how much PB Blaster will be needed to silence the recalcitrance of old bolts.