Additional Comments on Article II, At Large Membership: Arriving At The Callicoon Saloon.

["Tom Lowenhaupt" <tjpl@ix.netcom.com>]

Old Michael was sitting at the bar at the Callicoon Saloon enjoying a pint
of Wicked Pete's Ale and Big Jack Johnson's Blues Band when in through the
door floated his old friend JC. Michael was startled by the forlorn look on
his former boss' face; he'd found him to be an inveterate optimist. (Even
when he'd ordered Michael to caste a sinner into the eternal fires of hell,
he'd speak positively of the lesson it would teach the others.) With JC were
three equally gloomy fellows, all vaguely familiar from the old days.

Michael walked over to JC & Co., welcomed them to his terra home, and told
them of the delicious beer, the delightful music, and the decidedly friendly
people. And, with a smirk, he invited them to the bar to have a Wicked one,
on him.

At that, Mohammed turned to JC and said, "Does this man know nothing? Does
he not know of the humiliation and scorn heaped upon us?" Moses turned to
the dispirited Mohammed and explained that Michael knew good from evil; that
he had recently returned from a great battle, having fought day and night
for months on end with the great ICANN. And he provided minute detail on how
Michael had fought like no other human against its evil.

Mohammed then asked, "Then why does this Michael stand there with suds on
his lip and a smile on his face?" Moses nudged the grumpy Mohammed, pulled
him to the side and explained that, although angelic, Michael was no God,
merely a dedicated fighter of evil; and that Michael believed the battle
with the ICANN to have been lost. Mohammed's spirits sunk, his essence
nearly touched the ground, and he turned to Moses and said in a quiet
despondent tone, "Is he not correct?"

Hearing that, the Buddha, who'd been uncharacteristically twitching and
muttering curses like a choleric Turrets victim ever since he'd walked
through the door, reached over and pulled Mohammed's sword from its sheath.
He jerked it above his head, and with his face aquiver, smashed it with a
whoosh and thunderous bash into the bar, and he screamed the scream of
frustration that had festered deep in his pacific belly for a thousand
years. Mohammed saw his pain felt his rage and roared "We must destroy the
infidels!" With that, Moses' eyes narrowed, his leathered, creased face
tightened Yoda-like, and he looked over to his Michael, and screamed, "Never
again!"

Meanwhile, JC had been listening to Michael's battle experiences and had
grown angrier by the second, angry as only a Lord of Lords could. When it
had grown beyond earthly control he turned to his companions and joined
their rage and roar in a most glorious way - darting flames, fiery tongues,
thunderclaps, and lightening bolts surrounded him as a fiendish look over
took the once kindly face. And he sternly declared in his most powerful God
voice, "This is the end. No more shall I allow this evil to be done to my
children." And, as he raised his right hand, a Fireball Of Death formed in
its palm.

In the background, Big Jack Johnson and his band recognized the goings-on as
the darkest blues they'd ever seen, and started playing Mitch Cohen's "It
Was The End of the Universe" as background. And, as JC stretched his arm
skyward and prepared to smash the FOD into the earth - turning humanity and
every trace of it into gamma rays - TJ the barkeep calmly walked over to the
now manic group of floaters and, with the very earth quivering beneath his
feet, abruptly said, "Hey, what the hell's going on over here?" And,
directing his attention to JC said,"Put that down or you're out of here,
Buddy."

Incredulously the four "Holly" Ones looked to TJ, to one another, and then
back to TJ. And, by tacit agreement they prepared for a joyous moment of
killing - it would be a savage death and a tortuous eternity for the
gumptious keep.

Meanwhile TJ reached under the bar, and with a calmness that astonished the
now "Sizzling Ones," picked up his rag, wiped the hardwood bar and asked,
"What'll it be boys?" Caught off guard by his placid tone, Mohammed, who'd
retrieved his sword, maneuvered it over TJ's brow, said, "Do you not know
that thy eternity is before thy face?" TJ looked him in the eye, grinned,
and said, "You guys came a long way didn't you? And I bet you didn't come to
wreck my place. Let me guess: I'll bet you a cold one that you really came
to work something out with Michael, maybe a plan of some sort, something
about that ICANN he's always rambling on about. Am I right so far?"

Not wanting to loose a bet, the penurious Mohammed, said, "You might have
been right, but now there's no hope. The end has come."

At that moment, Michael, who'd stepped back to observe the Olympian
brouhaha, and now feared the end of cold ones and blues bands, moved forward
and announced, "Guys, I've got a plan."

With that, things began to quiet down, TJ went to draw a pitcher of Pete's
(compliments of a surviving humanity), Michael pulled up a stool, the Holly
Ones hovered in eager anticipation to hear about "The Plan", and the band
played…

          And the sun was heavy in the Universe
          And the light was growing dim
          And those grains of sand were going fast
          But it didn't bother him…

          No, it didn't bother him…

By Thomas Lowenhaupt

TOML@COMMUNISPHERE.COM