Friends, I am here today to warn you of a most pernicious and deadly evil. Any women, children, or men of weak constitution who may be present should consider leaving, lest my descriptions of this heinous abuse offend their delicate sensibilities. Be warned, I cannot be held responsible for fainting, hysteria, dropsy, mass panic, vapors, the augue, syphilis, or any other ailment resulting from those of sensitive disposition who ignore my warnings.
Now, of what abuse am I speaking? I do not speak of child abuse. I do not speak of spousal abuse. My concern is not the abuse of animals nor of the elderly, nor substance abuse, nor the abuse of power. I speak, today, of adverb abuse. Yes, shocking, I know, but for the sake of Western Civilization, please hear me out! I have in front of me a book, a vile, dastardly book. It is called “A Drink with Shane MacGowan,” and it reeks of sulphur (and Guinness). It is written by a woman claiming to be one Victoria Mary Clarke, but I suspect, and you shall soon see why, that this is merely a facade for Beelzebub himself!
I warn you, I am about to qoute a passage from this book. Only stout Christian gentlemen, solid in their faith, should read on. Only a strong belief in the eternal love of Christ Our Lord can provide the spiritual bulwark necessary to look on this abomination without losing the very will to live:
“A rugged Irish cottage. A fierce and loquacious wind tears, mercilessly, mirthlessly, at the simple thatched roof. An immodest fire illuminates the shadows, boldly. Out of the ashes, a luminous face looms, magnificently. A trembling hand taps a cigarette, certainly, on a filthy trouser leg. Another, equally pale and blackened, grasps a bottle of gin, either half full or half empty, depending on which way you look at it. Shane MacGowan, leaning back against the whitewashed wall, contemplates the portrait of Pope John, contemplativly, spits into the flames, contentedly, clears his throat, aridly, and addresses his companion.”
Please, now! Please stay calm! Remain in your seats! I know it is awful, but try to maintain your decorum. We must not panic! Do not dignify this evil with loosened cravats or unkempt hair! I know that, in that entire paragraph, only three lonely verb are unmodified. I know that, at one point, Mr. MacGowan is descriped as contemplating a picture contemplativly. We must retain our senses, however, for our path shall become much rougher. Observe!
“His companion, Victoria, a fragile, ethereal beauty, the likes of which will never be seen again, nods anxiously and swallows delcately. Shane eyes her, insistently, and continues.”
Shocking, very shocking, but we must not run riot because of this. My assisstant is passing around a restorative of straight bourbon and cocaine, please use as much as you need to calm your nerves. Note that the “Victoria” in that passage is the very authoress herself! Humility has never been a trait ascribed to the devil. I will not qoute at length any further, for no human could sustain another dosage of adverbial hooliganism like that. But, so that you all might understand the depths of depravity to which this book sinks, I will repeat some of the author’s litany of more minor offenses. In the next ten pages, the innocent reader is assaulted by “coughs, mightily”, “drinks, heartily,” “sips, daintily,” “leans forward, suddenly,” “clasps, tentativly,” “pales, considerably,” “smiles, agreeably,” “snorts, acrimoniously,” “takes a swig, acerbically,” “nods, knowingly,” “glances…, occasionally,” a wind that “rattles the … door …, ambulatorily,” “contemplates, silently,” “smiles, faithfully,” “agrees, instinctivly,” “eyes a picture of JFK, respectfully,” “leers, intrigingly,” “pauses, reflectivly,” and a return of the wind, which now “rattles the door, affectionatly.”
Please! Calm yourselves, please! I have a revolver, and I will use it if I must! Back! BACK! There, that’s better. Please remember you are Christian gentlemen, not a bunch of painted Hottentots, and behave accordingly!
Now, I know that some libertines might defend this filth, claiming that it if an adult wants to pollute his mind than that is his buisness, and we have no right to dictate his behavior. To them I say, “Poppycock and balderdash!” And I mean that in the strongest possible terms! What of the children, I ask you, who are drawn to this book by its innocent tales of drunkeness, drug use, sex, and violence? What terrible effects could this sort of execrable writing have on their tender souls? If we do not stand against this darkness, if we do not charge into the breach to defend our most defenseless citizens, who will? If we do not shoulder this terrible burden God has laid on us, how shall we look ourselves in the mirror every morn?
Well, the hour is becoming late, and I will let you good men return to your beds, although I doubt any of you will find rest there. Before we take our leave of each other, the Reverend Mr. Michael Palin will lead us in prayer.
O Lord,
Oo, you are so big, so absolutely huge.
Gosh, we’re all really impressed down here, I can tell you.
Forgive us, O Lord, for this our dreadful toadying,
But your so strong and just, well, super.
Amen.
Goodnight, Gentlemen, and God Bless.