God and Law

I have a friend.

Unfortunately, my friend is a boor.  I don’t like saying it, and I wish there was a nicer word that conveyed the same meaning.

However, the truth is, the meaning is not very nice, and so the word that conveys it is not very nice. My friend actually *is* a boor. He has cultures growing in various nooks and crannies (behind his ears, between his toes) but that’s about it.

So I said, “Let’s help my friend out a little bit.”

I bought my friend the seed to start a library – two beautiful carved wooden book-ends and a lovely book on art. I knew that every time he looked at the shelf beauty and culture would just spring up in him. You couldn’t look at those book-ends and *not* become cultured.

Those were some book-ends.

When I visited him the other day, it was clear he liked the book-ends.

He was in the kitchen, and he had the book laid out on the counter.  On top of it was a slab of meat. That he was tenderizing. With a book-end.

He waved his bloody implement at me -  “Give me a hand and mash the potatoes, will you?” – gesturing at the pot, and the table, and at the other book-end.

I kind of wish my other friend hadn’t come in just then and that the story hadn’t gotten out.

That’s not really why I gave him the book-ends.