Our next Formica, er, formality, is a profit from the teaching of the
Holy Register, into which is writ your debts and assets, the treasure
laid
up. Here’s one old lady helped across a busy revenue; here’s
a one-night-stained with that big-butt secretary from accounting takes
it away. Simple
really, this calculus of holiness. Our God is a usurous God. How much
credit
do you think you have? Do you feel lucky, punk?
Well, do you?
There is no Chapter 11 in my little black book.