Church Minutes...
8/5/03....Well we just installed another air-conditioned pass-out tent for the pilgrims that
               stagger over to our annual celebration of....well....Pass Out. You see, and as it is
               written in the Holy Scriptures that we can't find at the moment: "Yea, thou must
               be with beer in hand, and song in heart, and forgive the guy that puked on your
               new ABBA's Greatest Hits CD"
               So what you gotta do, see, is go out and get stinking drunk with your friends, and
               learn to forgive the guy who put his cigsrette out in your martini--as long as he's
               buying you another martini to replace the one he fucked up.
               Sorry I'm not in church more often, but I have been working as a missionary at
               the liquor store liberating malt liquor from the cold confines of the refrigerated
               display shelves. Sometimes I forget where the church is located.
               Blessings unto you, and blessings onto your beer mugs. May they nay break, but
               help liquor you up proper.

                         -Father Santiago de Torpedo
Boy oh boy-ardie! Iknow, I know...I haven't been doing my "Fatherly Duties" for a really long time.
It's time for me to get a spanking from one of our nuns.
That being said, I think I'll wax political for a moment. I really can't fucking believe the shrub got
reinstalled as president. What a big load of horse-crap this turned out to be! Well, nothing like having
friends that work for the company that makes the electronic voting machines. Even if it was a
democrat that won, I would be suspicious of this whole thing. Liars one and all of them!
Enough said.
Now it's time to burn some books regarding evolution. No--just kidding! Actually it's time I actually lived
up to priestly duties, and  give you all some spiritual advice. Ahem: Never go to an all-you-can-eat
church sponsored breakfast while you are hungover. Lemme tell ya--it won't be pretty. Also, go out and
buy a case of beer. You'll be glad you did. For as it is written down somewhere: "Yea I may be almost
out of beer, but there is an HOLY shrine in the form of a conveniance store. I shall not waver in my
blind stagger to the beer coolers, but yea, I shall walk with confidence as I topple the Fritos display by
accident. " amen.  Smoke 'em if you got 'em!

    Father Santiago de Torpedo                    01/22/05
Give me your Dirty Love...
You'll never guess what happened this time except I wasn't gone quite as long. I was lured
into an innocent-looking enough walk-in beer cooler and BAM!!!! The exits all slammed shut,
and then I could hear the sound of lift-off. Not only that, but I could feel it too. I was plastered
to the floor while I was plastered myself. Yep, I was kidnapped by none other than
Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention! No foolin'! Fortunately there was enough beer
for the trip over to the 'other' planet--wherever that was. When we finally landed, I was let
out, and saw some kind of landscape straight out of a Bugs Bunny cartoon. I was then
given a stern lecture on the evils of drugs, and made to listen to ABBA. I shiver at the horror
of it all. They wouldn't let up with "Dancing Queen" until I promised to stop my evil
overconsumption ways. Now this all happened while I was still locked in the booby-trapped
beer cooler. So there was only one thing Father Santiago de Torpedo could do...Drink many
more 40 ouncers. So much to the point that I went beyond stupid blind staggering  drunk, and
concocted a master plan of escape. In other words: I had the cashier let me out so I could
get to the controls disguised as a cash register. I managed to fly the fake liquor store back
to Earth with some difficulty. Yeah, sure, there were a few minor "fender-benders" along the
way involving Klingon starships, but I told them that I was heavily insured. Good thing they
don't read English very well and can't tell a Mickey's label from a policy card.
So after crash-landing on Earth somewhere in the Gobi desert, I managed to sell enough
beer to the natives, and by a plane ticket home. Now there is a convenience store out there
in that fabled desert with a very happy owner (I had to give him the flying liquor store since
it was part of the deal). And now I'm home safe and sound slamming a 40, and writing this
incredible story.
That's all for now kiddies. As they used to say way back in the '70s: Groovy.

Father Santiago de Torpedo                                                                       
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