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Dear Mrs. Bowers: At the risk of sounding vain, I am considered very attractive, but I don't think that I have the inner-beauty and peace that I would like or that would be pleasing to the Lord. I've tried everything from full-body immersion baptisms to yoga. I think some of my friends are starting to think I am shallow. Any suggestions to make me complete? Striving in Syracuse Dear Striving: Pardon me while I pause to draw upon the patience of Christ to respond to your letter. I am really coming to the end of my Christian rope with misguided humanists who value physical attractiveness so much, especially when it is as easy to achieve as eternal damnation. Outer-Beauty requires little more than a quality hair-rinse, an understated lipstick and a passing familiarity with an ordinary hairbrush. Inner-Beauty is much harder to come by and should thereby be more valued when encountered, like foreigners who bathe. I'm talking about the Inner-Beauty that comes from the glow of knowing that the brazen woman who just cut in front of you in line at the bank may get her little check cashed a moment sooner, but, statistically speaking, is probably going straight to Hell, and you are not. If that doesn't make you feel better as she waltzes out to her imported car in her too-short skirt, while you are still trapped in a plastic-rope labyrinth, nothing will! Inner-Peace comes from the knowledge that the man who misdialed and interrupted you while the glue dried on some misapplied stamps you were decoupaging to a pine-purse, is, in all likelihood, going to spend eternity frying in the horrors of Satan's domain. Remember: although your purse may never look just right, you will be forever doing Christian handicrafts in heaven with people of your same denomination, ethnic background and dexterity with an aerosol-adhesive. One need look no further than my dear Friend-Of-Our-Lord Jerry Falwell to realize that our Lord places no premium on comeliness when choosing whom to call to be a messenger of His Glory. And this has always been the case. Just look at that foreign Catholic woman Joan of Arc. Obviously, she was called with no regard to the unattractive nature of her alarmingly masculine hairstyle. I won't have a word said against such an angel of God, although I daresay that if I'd run into a woman so insistent on dressing like a man and crusading for special rights, I would have been the first to light the match. The point I am trying to make is that there will be no supermodels in heaven. And the only way to feel truly good about yourself is to pay better attention to the piteous people around you who are not nearly as blessed. The other man's grass is not always greener! Sometimes, it is strewn with ungodly garbage. And it is only through realizing what an eyesore some people's spiritual lawns are, that you are going to appreciate the loveliness of your own. Remember this before you get jealous of someone who has more things of this world: although they may be traveling first-class, and thereby enjoying a free beverage service, their destination is still the same -- Straight to Hell. That is why I, Mrs. Bowers, founded TRASH. I don't even need to tell most of you that TRASH stands for, of course, Traditional-families Raging Against Sluts and Homos. TRASH was founded to heighten the general public's awareness of who exactly is going straight to Hell. To assist in this regard, I have printed a 3-color brochure "37 Different Types of People I've Decided Are Going Straight To Hell." It provides an all-but encyclopedic listing of the various types of people who are not as blessed as I am, and makes for a fun game for the children on long car trips to see who can be the first to spot the people in passing cars who are going straight to Hell! In any event, in my righteous fervor to impart His word, I have digressed. In answer to your question, heretical yoga is no substitute for bending the knee to pray or flicking the wrist to tithe. And if you persist in performing unladylike contortions with your body in public places, do not be surprised to find yourself spending Eternity in the vacuous company of a pack of equally misguided supermodels. As God is My Witness,
Mrs. Nancy Bowers You may write to Mrs. Bowers (who doesn't have an ungodly e-mail account of her own) in care of Belinda at mshogjowl@email.msn.com with your questions and comments.
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