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2. PRIVILEGE IN PARTS

October 1, 2007

From many perspectives, the fortunate find was a tremendous privilege for the technician.

 

Say you get a knock on your door. A solemn man with a hefty book. Do you know what God wants of you? Will you accept Jesus into your heart? Heart you say? Well the way he’s going through my coffee and biscuits my heart may well be next! Come on in. Sorry didn’t catch your name. Michael? Fine. Michael meet Jesus. Jesus, Michael.

 

I think Michael would need a paper bag, don’t you?

 

And not just Michael the devout door-to-door Christian. A lapsed one would do. There’d be surprise.

 

Oh there’d be a race of emotions I’m sure. More than just shock and surprise but we’ll put others to one side for now.

 

I wonder which part of the life of Jesus a Christian would like to … attend?

 

Which part an Atheist?

 

An Agnostic?

 

Consider it for Islam and Hinduism. Any religion.

 

Would you dare go into the cave with Muhammad? Or the tomb with Jesus? Why?

 

Well, if you can think of anything that would freeze your open face – to us, inside Layla is that with lumps.

 

An ever-growing number of people believe Layla to be the clearest evidence of God and His interaction with humanity. She changed the world using the most unorthodox, unimaginable and impossible methods. Controversial for sure! Black was white and white black. Even though it’s all been so recent, Layla mythology easily outstrips the former revelatory giants. Whether in favour, in doubt or a detractor, no-one would deny the impact of Layla on human kind.

 

She never sought followers but ‘Participants’ sprung up anyway. Laylaps (Participants of a more mystical bent) have extreme attraction to Layla. They are well known for their Layla love poems which describe aspects of Layla and their own, seemingly lustful, relationship with her. I think the following endearing ditty from a leading Laylap serves well as a first description of Layla:

 

 

Flying round my eyeline now

Are 20 million angels

Butterflapping hastily

And getting into rages.

 

I quieten them

Down to the ground.

 

Hey,

Vanilla girl strides lumpy mountain

Bouncing.

Huh la, huh la.

She’s creamy, creamy in the Sun.

She lifts me up and

I feel pop I do.

 

 

 

Sadly, some parts of this master-piece have recently been plagiarized to advertise both aspirational and commodity products.

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