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Season’s Greetings

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Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, gender neutral, celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious/secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all.

May you have a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling, and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2015, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped to make Britain great (not to imply that the UK is necessarily greater than any other country), and without regard to the race, creed, colour, age, physical ability, religious faith, political belief, sexual preferences, or gender identity of the wishee.

(By accepting this greeting, you are accepting these terms. This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for themselves, herself, himself, itself or others, and is void where prohibited by law, and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year, or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher.)

 

 

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At the Library

I went to the library this morning – on the counter is a nativity scene with small figures representing the Holy Family and shepherds; on the floor there were large cardboard cut-outs of the principal Biblical figures.

I said to the librarian that, since this was a local authority facility, under equality and diversity legislation, public buildings are debarred from exhibiting such overt religious symbolism. And that I was considering registering an official complaint.

The poor woman looked very anxious, until I produced my card which has my name prefixed withe title “Rev”

“Keep up the good work and have a blessed Christmas!” were my departing words

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a tour of heaven

A man died and went to the hereafter.

Saint Peter met him at the pearly gates and gave  him a tour of heaven.
“In this room you can see all your loved ones who passed away before you.” stated Saint Peter.
” This room is the Lords library.” said Peter “In here you will find every great novel ever written by all the greatest authors.”
“This is the kitchen, in here you can feast on everything your heart desires.” he remarked.
“The next room is our gym. Here you can excel in any sport you wish to play.” Saint Peter said.
Then quietly sneaking by the next room Peter whispers, “Be very quiet when you pass by this room.”
“Why’s that?” asked the new arrival, “Are the angels sleeping in there?”
“No.” replied Saint Peter, “In this room are the Wee Frees, and they think they are the only ones here.”
–ooOOoo–
I heard this originally as this:
A man dies and goes to heaven. At the gates, St. Peter offers him a tour on his way to his quarters. St. Peter takes the man down a beautiful road paved with gold bricks.
They pass a beautiful, tall, Cathedral-like building. It’s huge, with stained glass windows and angels carved into the stonework. People are quietly filing into the front door as music from a beautiful pipe organ emanates from within.”Wow!” exclaims the man. “What a beautiful building! Who are those people?””Them? Those are all the Catholics. They’re getting ready to have high mass.” St. Peter replies.

“Oh.” says the man, as they continue walking down the street.

Next they approach a large grassy area with a modest red brick building that has a tall white steeple at the top. There are huge tables all over the lawn covered with dishes of  salad, fried chicken wings, and every casserole imaginable. People are eating to their heart’s content and laughing, talking and socializing as their children run around playing in the grass.

“St. Peter, who are all those people?” the man asks.

“Oh those people? Those are the Methodists. They’re having another one of their picnics or something.” The man nods in understanding.

They then hear unaccompanied psalm singing coming from a plain-looking, no frills building

“Ah, the Wee Frees,” says the man and Peter nods his head in agreement.

A school next – no children but the raucous noise of drums, guitars and keyboards and cries of “Hallujah! Praise the Lord! Amen!”

Peter explains that this is an Pentecostal group who hire this building for worship.

They then look through the door of an ordinary looking church building with pealing paint, crumbling stonework, a leaking roof, no heating and half a dozen old ladies (some of whom have dozed off) – yes, The Church of Scotland!

Soon St. Peter and the man start walking into and area with lots of trees. It looks like their nearing the woods. As they walk deeper into the trees, the man notices a clearing into the distance. There’s a small village of stone buildings, streams of white smoke puffing from the chimney tops, and beautiful flower and vegetable gardens around the homes. People are quietly milling around and talking.

“St. Peter, who are those people?” the man asks.

“Shhh!” shushes St. Peter with his finger to his mouth. “Those are the Jehovah’s Witnesses. They think they’re the only ones up here.”

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