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God Told Me You Look Like a Bunch of Jerks Poker Night

To: poker-night
From: Blake
Subject: God Told Me You Look Like a Bunch of Jerks Poker Night
Date: Thu, 22 Jul 2004 20:36:50 -0400

And God said, “no chicken shall be allowed to marry a man, nor shall
any chicken set foot within the Library after hours, nor shall any
chicken of this Earth consume the flesh of a chicken of the Other Earth
of which chickens know  not.”  And lo, for millions of year the
chickens abided by these laws set forth by God until this morning, when
a chicken by the name of Pollyanna, who is very much in love with a
human man child by the name of Dave, proposed to Dave’s best friend
Frank in order to spite Dave for getting drunk and sticking her in the
freezer one too many times, and ran off to Las Vegas in Frank’s jet
plane and married Frank this afternoon.

Now God is pissed.

Or, at least we think he is.  Or, at least some people think he is.
Honestly, he probably doesn’t care.  Probably, he’s dead, or has moved
on with his life, or he’s met a nice she-god and run off to God Vegas
and eloped and started doing the nasty by now and maybe that happened a
long time ago and maybe there are a bunch of little god babies running
around the universe and that’s why my clothes always come out of the
dryer still just a little bit wet, it’s because of those pesky children
of god.

Probably he’s dead.

So,

come to Poker Night!
tonight!
at
XX XXXXXXXXX XX. #X
in lovely Somerville, MA

Also I lost my ATM card so there is not any tonic.  or gin.  There is
beer in cans.

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