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the purpose of sme is simply this: to overthrow the capitalist hegemony that has a stranglehold on our beautiful, multiethnic society. contributors are asked to take part in this, our overriding mission, so the people of the green earth can breathe together in the clean air of progressive politics and non-judgmentalism. each blog post must bask in the sunlight of earnest expression, never falling into the trap of satire or parody. our aim is clarity and verisimilitude; our mission is truth and the propagation of it. the blog is the perfect place to post your old family videos, homophobic video blogs, another blog's material, awkward, poorly-drawn sketches, halo reach updates, or unexplained/irrelevant wikipedia articles--sme is home to the entire eclectic conflation that is the internet. if there is one thing entirely intolerable to the editors of sme, it is sarcasm. there is simply no room in this blog for sarcastic, humorous, and reference driven posts. if you are among those responsible for such garbage, please leave.


barnaby jones

Monday, April 6, 2015

The Ten Tribes of Jezebel, Chapter 1

Lo! Upon the first of men there was born one who is righteous in the sight of the spirit

(the beautiful babe still at his mother's bosom)
of the mountain. Great was the wickedness of his generation, and their trespasses trespassed many stated statutes of known knowledge. The abomination that brings desolation is the sure reward for the breaking of the mountain covenant. But the men of his generation laughed at known knowledge, reveling in their own great sullied perversion!

Yet he could be looked upon with a shining brow and resplendent chin. He could be seen with the eyes of men. His tight curls were a pleasure to the spirit. His burnt rodent offerings were a pleasant aroma to the lord of the harvest. His idiot babbling sweet music to the ears of his brethren, 

(vile plotters of wickedness)
though doubtless they coveted him his precious anointing and plotted to lay snares for his tender infant feet to become ensnared upon. His great bulging baby thighs were covered like the forests of Lebanon with strong hair like the rock of Egypt. His neck was like the valley of Eden, with jumping goats dancing upon his Adam’s apple. His neck was like the tower of Jericho, covered in deep set stones. His neck was also like a charging river, with waves of goats covered in deep set stones.
The boy danced in the lilies of the field. The boy gathered the milk of the honey bee and the sugars of the bejeweled dancing tidal mountain goat. Most assuredly I say unto you there remained not a horse in Babylon nor a cedar in Lebanon whose number the dancing stiff legged baby did not count among the plenty. Most assuredly I say unto you, his legs were indeed stiff as the stiffness of a billy goat's rendered completely immobile by the multitude of jewels fastened to its hindquarters.
The suckling’s completely straight legs beat the rising song of the harvest. Entirely stiff, his limbs pounded a melody of supplication. Behold! A rigid-limbed song for his generation!

But lo! Among the children of men many did lie in wait in brooding jealousy. Their eyes were covered with scales. Their eyes were also covered in flaxwood. Their eyes were additionally covered in burned pine gum and alabaster fletching. Functionally blind, these men hated the unrelenting unbending of the furry infant’s musical body. Yay! They drew a design for his stiff-bodied end.

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