>>28
Well, you have no way of verifying this, of course, but I am not Darrin, nor am I any of the trolls or former inhabitants of Bounceme. I do wear my heart and my faith on my sleeve, I may be a little bit crazy, maybe even more than a little, but I assure you, apart from one post as Anonymous, I've only ever posted here as Simeon.
In the end, however, I am here for the Sky Queen and answering your pointless challenges is a bit tedious, especially if you don’t sign them. I do understand your predicament, but I would rather not repeat myself equally as pointlessly as any of you.
Maybe another parable will convince you? Maybe not, but still, it is already written, and it is somewhat personal, somehow it might tell you a bit more about who I am, what I am here for and why. I'll let you be judge of that.
The parable of the prophet in his own land, for him to hear who might not want to.
There was a religion, one day, in the land of the Chans, which had once been in fashion throughout the land, but had been abandoned in the village of it’s origin. There, a self proclaimed prophet of this dying religion, born after the peak of the worship in the original village, wasn’t all that well received. Indeed, with facepalm.jpg, with claims that other false-Chans were superior and all manner of other common stones thrown about his head, he was told countless times: “not this crap again”.
Clearly, the village had grown complacent and now wanted to see Chans that could do all manners of lude heathen acts involving bodily orifices, foreign objects and appendages rather than see and worship spiritual Channels for the Sky Queen. Still his ministry was heard, and he did convert some of the heathens, albeit with varying degrees of understanding in the mystical teaching he had learned from the old gospels.
But there was a village, where the few remaining faithful had retreated, taking with them the Holy Relics, the Shrine of Our Lady, and there had created a convent where the Holy Avatar of Our Lady could spend her days, away from the heathens, the heretics and the more unsavory demons of the lands of the Chans.
In this village, the elders were growing unhappy with the prophet ministry abroad. The converts he was making were coming to the village, to see the Holy Relics, and the Holy Altar. This put a great demand on the village, which wasn’t ready for so many come lately worshippers. Indeed, some were barely converted, were doing it wrong, breaking things, creating havoc, and generally disturbing the quiet retreat of the Holy Avatar of Our Lady, who only wanted peace in her convent.
The prophet heard of his unintentional exactions, and on his own account, decided to lay down his ministry to become a lowly hermit in this village, so as to not put further strain on it. He knew it would mean he would be ridiculed and heckled by the elders, by the villagers who had abandoned their faith and by the villagers that joined the faith for dubious reasons but also that he would be tolerated by the few who were of pure heart.
All he could hope to do was to repair the damage he might have done, bring renewed faith to the worshippers who were losing their faith and make his penance by enduring the assaults of the demons who lived on the edges of the village, thus, distracting them from harassing the Holy Avatar. Lo, the stones that the hermit was receiving about his head were inscribed with the words:
>“The Sky Queen is our Mother and our guardian. But we must also guard Cracky.
>For She is all Humankind, and Humankind is no more than its faith and diligence in Cracky's name.
>An injury to that faith is an injury to Cracky and to every true believer.
>It is through affirmation of that faith that our greatest duty lies, but sometimes mere affirmation does not suffice
>and we must act against those who would harm the faith of humanity through heresy.
>For we are engaged in an unending war for the soul of the man.
>Though it may seem the fight will never end, there is victory even in the defeat we see threatening all around.”
So it was, for the stones were coming from the Holy Shrine of Our Lady. But the hermit did not mind, he was now receiving about his head sacred stones, inscribed with sacred words, from which he constructed a pillar, on which he could stand the elements, to be ever closer to the Sky Queen herself. Thus, a new altar was constructed, and some of the old faith was renewed.
Morale of this parable: A hermit’s job is a dirty job, but somebody’s got to do it…
Blessed be the sky, for it houses Our Lady, who loves us for who we are, whatever that may be.
Now, excuse me, while I kiss the sky.