My twitter account got Spammed, where is God when you need Him? But is got me thinking what would Jesus tweet in the twenty-first century. Then I tried to figure if counting was thinking and is this the twenty-first century? I’m getting old, what happened to the last one? If it is, where’s Buck Rodgers?
My three followers on Twitter were outraged with the tweeted message asking them to strip naked, post a photo online and send money. It was the last part that drove their fury. If anybody’s missed it I’ve been tapping everybody for money. http://unbound.co.uk/books/lily-poole
It’s not my fault, but a compulsion. If the Sermon on the Mount was reduced to tweets it would read something like - shit I’ve run out of tweets and I’ve not even mentioned love or send me money to fund this worthwhile and charitable book called the Bible. As long as your name’s Isaiah you can be one of the characters. For as little as £500 you could make a difference to Jack O’Donnell’s life.
Today is the first day in the rest of your life. It’s also the day Peter Ustinov was on the telly as a gay Nero letting it all hang out as he burns with confidence. You know Quo Vadis. Toga and sandals and God reduced to a voice-over. Tweeting, the devil’s work, hadn’t even been invented.
Ustinov, like God, is everywhere. He was also in another dystopian fantasy Logan’s Run. Remember Jenny Agutter got to stroke and fiddle with his beard. There was no word for beard inside the dome, because everybody was young and beautiful and facial hair belonged to Yetis and old folk, none of which they believed in. Young girls inside the dome had never seen a beard. They got all excited about it. Everybody wanted to stroke the old guy’s beard. I still get flashbacks of Jenny Agutter swimming naked in Walkabout. But that was last century. I’ve really got to grow up. Please buy my book - I’ll be your friend for a century or more. You can stroke my beard.
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