Page 13 - Ferry Tales

Lightfoot

will presented and interpreted by self-anointed authority figures
converts unquestioningly to divine right political justification. Back
and forth it goes, until you don’t know what you’ve fantasized and
what has been used to delude and manipulate you. You couldn’t tell
your god from Mephistopheles. As the poet says,

If nothing’s cursèd
In your eyes,
You’ll see no blessings
In disguise.”

“Bah!” growls the man, or what’s left of him. “You presume to
comprehend the mystery of God’s purpose. He can throw dust in
your eyes if He wants you blind. Or show you the light and the true
path to righteousness.”
Now I had him. “You mean, you were showing people.”
“Of course! I am a man of God, a pastor to my little lost lambs.”
“And doing very well at it, too. Your racket cleaned out a lot of
life’s savings.”
That brought him up short. “You mean Blessons? The teachings of
my Online Church of Blessology?”
“Damn right,” I snarled, choosing my words carefully. “Classic
pyramid scheme. You’re going to be among a lot of other clever
connivers where you’re going. The Devil take you!”
At that we bumped into the bank of the river. Seeing no sympathy
from yours truly, he leaped off the ferry and started running, all
indignity and pretense left behind. By the time he caught a glimpse of
the gates, it was too late: you were on him like a wolf on a little lost
lamb.

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