’Ere, darlin’, let me feel yer tits. Well, now that that’s caught the attention of Infidel’s readers as they sadly contemplate the end of another riveting G&LH, let us tell the story.
It is, after all, relevant to this noble magazine’s purpose: to show up all that’s ridiculous but committed in the name of spirits and fairies at the bottoms of gardens. You see, in the city of Cartagena in Colombia people have been queuing to fondle the nipples of a statue, because they’ve been bamboozled into thinking it will help their relationships.
The reclining statue, called Getrudis, is believed to be ready to bless them if they touch her nipples. The sculpture was created four years ago by the artist Fernando Botero, who remarks, “I think it’s great that loads of tourists and locals line up to touch the sculpture’s breasts.”
Now, if one could stay quite still for a long time, having put it about that one’s nipples have magical qualities – well, the possibilities are breathtaking. It brings a whole new dimension to performance art.
A bunch of well-heeled Croatian monks are probably wondering whether they’ll make it through those Pearly Gates.
The problem is, they look too wealthy.
They’ve been driving around in BMWs and Mercedes instead of little bangers with half the exhaust pipe dropping off, apparently. An order came into effect early June banning the Franciscans from driving ostentatious motors.
One said he was not fazed by the rule. “I agree it would be better for people in the church to drive middle-class cars to show more solidarity with parishioners.”
Middle-class monks? No doubt they’re now experimenting with pushing camels through eyes of needles.
If you want your mortal remains to go closer to the big beardy fella in the sky, all you have to do is book a trip with Eternal Ascent Society Inc. of Crystal River, Florida.
It’s simple, folks: just pay huge dollops of dosh and they’ll put your ashes into a yellow, five-foot, helium-filled balloon and let it go.
Eternal Ascent’s owner, Joan West, says the biodegradable balloon goes about six miles and, at about 30,000 feet, when the temperature falls to 40 degrees below zero, it freezes and fractures, scattering your ashes to the wind. Meanwhile, on a still day, those people who’re picnicking or sitting in parks and pavement cafés below ...
Still on the subject of things that make you want to say “yuck”, priests at a temple in the ancient capital of Nara in western Japan don’t like the fact that a sweet has been marketed as Snot from the Nose of the Great Buddha. But, then, this is the age of long names for commercial products. Remember when a spread called I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter! came on the market in the UK? It’s still around, but you’d feel embarrassed asking for it at a shop counter (do they still have those?).
But back to the great Buddha. The priests managed to block this name from getting official approval, so it remains unregistered as a trade mark. However, vendors are doing a roaring trade, apparently.
Perhaps they’re all saying, “I can’t believe it’s snot, Buddha!”