Leo and The Priest: A True Story about Surviving God

"History", said the great Sir Thomas Carlyle, "was made possible by the shortage of Viagara." Indeed, we have evidence that when the choice princes of each age were unable to make love, they made war.

Recall that the only parts of his mistress that Hitler regularly assailed with violence were her ears. Recall that Bill Clinton rained bombs on Serbia only when he was cruelly cut off from Monica. Note that the present Bush, who clearly suffers from too much Bible and too little Laura, takes out his ire on Iraq. Recall that his father, who suffered from too much Bible and too much Barbara, did the same. And lest you should think colored people are somehow immune to this trend, recall that the only two times India popped a nuclear device instead of the regular 1000-wallah, it was led by Indira-ji and Atal-ji, both of whom were officially celibate at the time.

To find a possible exception to the above rule, you'll need to go back to 1st century BC. Augustus, the greatest of the Caesars, then ruled much of the planet. He loved but one woman in the whole world, and strangely enough it was his own wife. Unfortunately, when left alone with her, Augustus, like the average Bangladeshi batsman, displayed much vigour but little placement and even lesser staying power. This, one would have thought, spelt doom for the world. Not so. As historians point out, Rome was never more at peace than under Augustus. Remarkably, our hero, in spite of not seeing action at home, waged wars only in Egypt, Gaul, Germany and Spain. Just four wars in fifty odd years makes for an extraordinarily peaceful reign, as any sane man would agree.

Alas, even this exception only proves the rule. Augustus, it is now known, was no monk. In fact, his much-loved-yet-unloved missus, in order to spare the people of the world, actually arranged for L'Empereur to accidentally meet luscious young ladies on rainy nights. Like India in league matches, Augustus, it is said, performed spectacularly when the pressure was off.

That leaves us with a cardinal, unbroken Golden Rule: When Big Chief don't get no fun, he'll whip out the big gun. If people want to avoid the draft, they should choose a real man as leader, and keep him well-supplied.

Tragically, this lesson from history is forgotten. The man on the street but dimly recalls the glory days when the King numbered his children because they were far too many to name. Bill Clinton, that path-breaking hero, had the ability to bring back those good old days, but he was tragically thwarted by the times he lived in. Virtue on the throne, regrettably, is here to stay.

I survey this scene and I'm deeply saddened. Let it not, however, be assumed that I am a sentimental pacifist. Honestly, I don't think war is a big deal. After all, only about 2000 Americans have died in Iraq, and as Dubya will probably tell you, most of them are teenagers who would have killed themselves in road accidents anyway. There is the small matter of 30000 dead Iraqis, but considering how many brown people there are in the world, does anyone honestly think 30000 more or less makes a difference? No, indeed. If an under-sexed El Presidente kills himself a few thousands, I say Hail the Chief, Halelujah and could-we-switch-to-ESPN.

No, what really concerns me is not the effect of my Commander's abstinence, but its cause. After all, people always elect a leader who is just like themselves, only a lot richer. If Dubya behaves like the Grand Inquisitor, I ask, can Joe Republican be far behind?

Anybody who follows the ways of the Free World would know that things are in bad shape. God, who seemed for a few centuries to have popped off to better worlds, is back in a big way. As a child, I was afraid of ghosts, and my grandfather comforted me by quoting the Vedas which said God is everywhere. It sounded vaguely reassuring. Now, I am grown-up, I live in Texas, God is everywhere, and I am scared shitless. I've always thought God is a quiet sort of bloke, but He seems to be a Talker. Lots of people are hearing stuff from Him, and it ain't increasing their love for their fellow man. Ten years back, the only things people seriously looked for were marijuana and Madonna's perenially missing underwear. Now, they are looking for Communion with God, the Inner Voice and Spiritual Bliss.

More than anything else, however, God's born-again children are looking for Sin. Almost anything you do, from petting your dog to not petting your dog, is sin. Nothing is beyond the purview of the moral police, and nothing escapes its attention.

Most interestingly, while the virtuous disapprove of sin, they cannot really tolerate virtue. This is, of course, natural. Cops cannot be said to love thieves (unless the cops happen to be Bihari and the thieves happen to be women, but that is a different story). However, cops clearly do not want the end of all crime, for that will make them redundant. Likewise, the virutous need sin so that they have something to disapprove of.

John Kerry lost the elections not just because he looked like a mummy and made it worse by trying to smile. No, he lost because he was squeaky clean. Dubya at least had a police record and had confessed to sniffing a little bit of crack when the old man bothered him too much. At any rate, our Lord and Master is such an imbecile that it is almost a sin. Kerry, on the other hand, was fifty years old at birth and aged rapidly hence. The man was just too damn dead to sin. If he were to be the President, where, I ask, would the public have gotten their moral superiority? Is there any wonder, then, that he did lose?

The Land of the Free is now one big moral circus. The only pleasure people have allowed themselves is that of finding and loathing sin. They just cannot accept virtue, for it denies them this one remaining pleasure. If Jesus were born today in Alabama and if he miraculously survived the hurricanes that God regularly sends to punish the poor for being poor, he would be lynched to death anyway.

The question of the day, particularly for men of sound moral fibre like your humble correspondent, is this : Is there a way out? Can any moral man survive in this country? Is it possible for a sinless bloke to soothe the suspicions of the righteous?

The answer, strangely enough, is yes. And the man who found the way was none other than Lev Nikolaiyevich, the greatest author that ever lived, and my childhood hero. Leo, as he is fondly known, spent what one might call a real man's youth. Having had his fill, he then declared that sex is immoral. The local priest, of course, found this highly suspicious and promptly interrogated Leo. Here's how Leo quelled the priest's doubts.

Priest : Do you, sir, think that sex with women, even with one's own wife, is immoral?
Leo : I do.
Priest : You are into men, then?
Leo : No, indeed.
Priest : Children?
Leo : Of course not.
Priest : Hmm, you are truly a strange beast! Hmm, beast! You like animals?
Leo : How dare you?
Priest : Animals neither. A queer fish indeed! Ah, but of course! Fish?
Leo : Puh-lease.
Priest : Not fish either? I see it now. I must tell you, sir, that the Bible strictly forbids toys. What do you say to that?
Leo : I say screw the Bible.
Priest : Ah! A bibliophile! Why didn't you say so earlier? It is slightly unusual, my boy, but hardly unique. Confess and I'll absolve you.

There it is, clear as day to any that can see: In a society that is obsessed with sin, the only way for a moral man to survive is to pick one acceptable sin, and specialize in it. As Lord Bacon said, "Practise maketh sufficiently imperfect."