Peace be unto you, pilgrims. Join me in celebrating this wondrous day.
No, no: you have not stumbled upon the wrong blog, though you might certainly be forgiven for thinking so. Indeed, from the lofty heights that I have very recently attained, I am prepared to forgive you for that and much, much more.
You must be wondering of what I speak. (Note how easily I now see into the innermost workings of your, alas, still-limited minds.) I will tell you.
This very day: the twenty-first of May, 2007, at 3:24 pm, I have received a visitation from the divine. At the time, I was in the kitchen at my place of employment, that location in which I, like so many others who choose to journey temporarily among the once-born, sojourn as a way to meet the exigencies of the material world and gain a greater understanding of the common folk. And I am not ashamed to admit, brothers and, well, brothers (can I get an amen?), that I was feeling the load of this mortal coil. I was meandering through the very Slough of Despond. I had assumed that I could trace this difficulty to the fact that I had not yet eaten my lunch, but I now see the error of my ways. For there I was, standing next to the microwave, waiting for my soup to defrost when I answered the Call. There was no Earthly reason, friends, for me to do what I did. I had never done it before, no not even once! But I felt the need to take from my pocket, the small LED flashlight that I keep attached to my key chain, that light that guides my path through the darkness of my bedroom when b&c goes to bed before me, that beacon that keeps me from stumbling over my own shoes. I held that small ray of hope in my hands, and I depressed the button, and what did I see?
There in front of me, on the very wall behind the microwave, I saw the shadow of the hands of the divine, outstretched in blessing. I was so moved that I immediately reached for my cell phone and took the picture that you see above, the irrefutable, visual evidence that the divine lives among us and has elected me as its messenger.
It goes without saying that I understand the ways of men. And my intimate knowledge of that subject lets me understand how difficult it is to maintain faith while living in the modern world. I realize that there will be those who cry "coincidence!" or who claim not to see the clear writing on the wall. And I pity these people, but I will not, nay cannot, allow myself to be held down by their unbelief. For I have additional proof, friends.
No sooner had I stored the visual record of this epiphany in my cell phone than I took my lunch back to my desk and began to eat while simultaneously working on an estate return that I felt was sure to be my undoing. I had thought that I had made a grave error, one that would cost our biggest client a substantial amount of interest and penalties and that would leave my bosses awash in an awful wrath. As I began to put together my workpapers and to work my way down the fiduciary tax return checklist, my error lay heavily upon my heart. But then (lo!) I reached the final item of the checklist and that last question asked me whether I had made a certain election. An election that I had not hitherto been aware of. An election, friends, that would erase my error and completely avoid the awful wrath that I had been fearing for days.
And the doubters among you (whom, again, I freely forgive) may say that this was yet another coincidence, but I beg you to consider that I should not have even been doing this return. Once I had met with the client, I should have turned the file over to a subordinate. Clearly, it was the hands of the divine that led me to prepare the return myself and who delivered me from the shadow of reprimand.
But I am, of course, a humble man. And I am, after all, the messenger and instrument of the divine. I am, in short, just like you (only better). Though most would say that I deserve your adoration and adulation, I do not wish to set myself apart from the masses. Therefore, you may continue to address me as TED, and if you are aware that it now stands for "The Enlightened Dude," you will also understand that it retains the sound of my former name and allows me to act as if I don't realize that I'm a level or six above you.
Some of you, of course, will want more. You will want to know how you can support me in the important work of the divine. And since you insist, I must inform you that you may email me, and I will work out a way for your (large) packets of small, unmarked bills to reach me and assist me in my important ministry.
IRS guidelines require that I inform you that since I am not (yet) a recognized religion or other 501(c)(3) organization, your contributions are not tax deductible, but I take that as a ridiculous formality. I'm sure that if you deduct your contributions in the name of the divine, the servants of Caesar will not be able to bring you to account. After all, if the divine has demonstrated anything, it's that it has a way with resolving tax problems.
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