Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Redbutt Books
Wazoo, Texas 710%$
Disclaimer:
This work is a satirical expose of the hypocrisy and cruelty behind the
Bible discipline of helpless children. The Ghostwriter definitely does
not endorse the doctrinal insanity of the imaginary interviewee, who
is currently unavailable for further interviews because hes become
even more of a self-righteous recluse than he was before.
Watch video:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6JhGeuZLyzE
GHOSTWRITERS NOTE: Before Dr. Ernest Jurassic Whipple would
consent to the publication of this series of interviews, he insisted I
begin by sharing his overall impression of the experience. But the
following comments must be taken with a grain of salt.
******
Session One
Weird Wednesday
I felt like Id crossed a time warp back to the 70s as Maria, the tired-
looking Hispanic maid, escorted me into the ranch-style den, with its
varnished split log walls and sprawling bearskin rug. Although the
bright sunny day filled me with cheer, the second I entered this home,
a heavy shroud of gloom fell on me like a choking L.A. smog. Maria
politely asked me to take a seat and wait. My overall impression of the
place was Gothic Western paranormal paraphernalia amalgamated with
Seventies chic and Jesus Revolution relics. Pastel colors clashed with
fusty old furniture. Despite the comical collage before me, a profound
sadness weighed me down. Nevertheless, there was plenty of
nostalgia to look at, if not elegance. Beady macram planters lived in
harmony with peace pipes and war bonnets from some Indian
reservation. Homey patchwork quilts hung from the railing of the
overhead catwalk, which was accessible via a wooden stairway.
My eyes roved around the room. The dens dcor was as eccentric as
my interviewee portended to be. The conical floor lamps looked like
theyd been salvaged from some funeral home. The brocade wingback
chairs belonged in a musty museum. Two kitschy 60s bucket chairs
languished near a beanbag futon strewn with dolls and toys. But no
tiny hands were there to play with them. An angora cat brushed its
silky fur against a carved table covered with outdated church flyers. A
yellow smiley face exhorted told the world to Smile! Jesus loves you!
Dr. Whipple: The feelings mutual. I hope you had a pleasant trip.
Dr. Whipple: Hot day. Did you find a shady spot to park your car?
Dr. Whipple: Then howd you get all the way out here?
Dr. Whipple: Youre joking. If you dont drive, I bet you paid plenty for
a taxi, and thats how youll get back to your hotel.
Dr. Whipple: Bet you feel like youre way out in the sticks.
Dr. Whipple: Yes, indeed. A man feels much closer to God out here,
far away from sinful sodoms like Holly-weird and Lost Vegas.
Ghostwriter: So you have a sharp sense of humor. Cant blame you for
living where lifes a breath of fresh air, Dr. Whipple. Such a lovely
home, too. This room in particular, so cozy, bright and airy. I love
your old-fashioned veranda with its porch swing, and the hanging
flowers. I notice you keep horses on your property.
Dr. Whipple is a tall but lean man with a craggy profile tanned by hours
spent outdoors. I still recall his slow, searching smile, his chilly,
narrow eyes and the cold creepiness I felt whenever he looked at me.
Dr. Whipple: Like most West Coast liberals, you seem to hero-worship
mother earth and all its beauties, instead of setting your sights on
heavenly glories, Ghostwriter. But outward appearances can be very
deceiving. He grinned like a cat that caught the mouse.
Ghostwriter: Im an artist, not just a writer, Dr. Whipple. Ive had to
develop a trained eye. If beautys all around us, we might as well
enjoy it while we have it. Ill savor the delights of heaven when my
time comes.
Dr. Whipple: Yes, Ghostwriter. Our God gives us richly all things to
enjoy. But God is a God of order, and nothing He does is done without
a reason. The sweetly singing birds serve as food for wild coyotes.
Coyotes keep the deer population down to prevent overgrazing and
starvation. Beautiful flowers are ground up for fertilizer. Im just as
practical-minded as our Creator. Those magnificent horses earn their
keep by mowing my grass and producing manure to sell to local
farmers. And theyre patiently waiting for riders.
I never saw such a sad face. For one fleeting moment I pitied him.
Dr. Whipple: Matt.10:36 teaches that a mans foes will be those in his
own house. After years of being treated like a queen, my wife Willow
rebelled against God, moved back to her mothers with my children,
and filed for divorce. An atheist judge found in her favor and granted
her a divorce with sole custody of the children. I got no visitation
rights because Willow and her friends swore on oath that Id physically
and emotionally abused the children. They coached the kids to attest
to those allegations as fact. Not to mention the fact Willows lawyer
was a shifty snake who never lost a case. Apparently the devil won
because they obtained a court order to keep me from coming within
500 miles of them. But Ive got faith in God that the day will come
when Ill finally get to meet my grandkidsor great grandkids. Faith in
the head is useless. It has to be acted out. So as a step of faith, I
bought all the toys you see over there by the beanbag futon. Theyre
waiting for little hands to play with them. Although by now, the
grandchildren are way too old to play with them, and might have kids
of their own soon. Willow took me to the cleaners after our divorce
and shes broken my heart in a thousand pieces. The spiteful witch.
Dr. Whipple: No pain, no gain. If a kid cries longer than five minutes,
or if his crying is angry rather than softly repentant, he is to be beaten
again and again till the angers all gone.
Ghostwriter: Or, rather, suppressed, and buried deep inside till the kid
coughs it back up on a psychiatrists couch or grows up to be a wife-
beater to release that suppressed rage. Dr. Whipple, Jesus never
taught that you could beat anger out of anybody. Torture only makes
the victim go into denial about his anger to save his own skin.
Dr. Whipple: That I made Blastus kneel on a pile of pinto beans for two
hours because he peeked when I was saying grace over dinner.
Dr. Whipple: Absolutely. Another of our favorites was Boston butt pork
roast with crabapple sauce. That tough pig posterior got the devil
drummed out of it down in my Inner Spanktum before it got roasted in
the oven. Great exercise to get rid of your frustrations! What with me
being a minister, and my wife not working outside the home, we had to
subsist on cheaper cuts of meat.
Dr. Whipple: None besides the one you see on the wall. When she
stormed out of our home, Willow stole all our family photo albums. So
I wont be able to share any pictures with you during your visits.
Ghostwriter: Sorry to hear that. Maybe you could find your kids on
Facebook. Oh, sorry! You did say youve got no use for modern
technology that wasnt available in the seventies.
Ghostwriter: Evidently. Did the other kids give Spanky grief over his
name?
Dr. Whipple: The teachers at his Christian school sure did. They wore
out more paddles on him than any other child. I thanked the teachers
for treating Spanky impartially, though he had the most famous father.
And believe you me, Spanky didnt want to tell me about those
whippings, or he would have gotten a second helping when he got
home.
Ghostwriter: Dont you think its unfair, forcing a child to pay twice for
a sin? Especially when Jesus went to the Cross for his sins?
Dr. Whipple: One sin begets another. The very fact Spanky sinned so
much in school by chewing gum or making noise, or taking his eyes off
his work was a bad reflection on his family upbringing. Spankys sins
brought shame and humiliation on me, and for that sin I would spank
him a second time.
Dr. Whipple: If you think God goes easy on His own kids, read
Hebrews 12 and Job. Itll burst your bubble if youre expecting an
easy ride in this life.
Ghostwriter: Enough of the doom and gloom. Where did Spanky go to
school? Its a wonder he didnt hop a freight train to escape those
tyrannical teachers.
Dr. Whipple: Ill try to overlook that belligerent comment, but the
name of Spankys school was Rearview Christian Academy. An
exemplary institution. My children were fortunate to go there.
Dr. Whipple: I take issue with that. My kids were fine till Willow took
them out of my life. Since then, theyve turned their back on holy
things. God is a god of order, and nothing is more orderly than a neat
little cubicle with a video monitor feeding increments of information
into tiny brains and testing them every five minutes till the final factoid
of each lesson set sinks in and they can progress to the next level.
Dr. Whipple: Nonsense! All children want to do all day is play, play,
play! God wants us to use our time profitably in this world, and the
more we get done the bigger our reward in heaven will be.
Ghostwriter: Aside from that, the main focus of that school seems to
be to prematurely turn children into tiny adults who work till they drop
to gain adult approval, to practice for that glad day when theyll stop
being happy children and start being slaves to their bosses.
Dr. Whipple: Paul the apostle pressed forward toward greater things.
Dr. Whipple: I agree with you, a small child is cute, but he often gets
up to no good. Little hands make big mischief.
Ghostwriter: And little hands can make the most adorable keepsakes
out of cardboard and paper to delight their loved ones. The way you
view the world, youd prefer a Rembrandt painting to a rainbow drawn
by a five-year-old child who loves you and wants to give you a present.
Id find it very understandable if those pupils at Rearview Christian
School were just aching to break out of their prisons and just enjoy
being kids like the good Lord intended.
Dr. Whipple: They all knew what would happen if they even pulled their
heads out of their cubicles without the teachers permission. Theyd
get rear-ended with the Rod of Correction.
His face broke into a wide grin. Spanking can be highly profitable.
Rearviews finances were in the red one year, and the library needed
some extra funding. So guess how they raised it?
Dr. Whipple: The school held a big Paddle Pageant. Lots of scripture
games, great preaching, even a Correction Castle where kids paid two
dollars to run through a maze of spooky cobwebs and get ambushed
by yardsticks, fly swatters and belts. Whoever found their way out in
the shortest time won a two-week holiday at the Woodshed Wilderness
Kiddie Camp, a wonderland of basket weaving and army discipline.
Dr. Whipple: Nah, I let him stuff his undershorts with pot holders in
case he got picked. He was doing fine till he leaned too far over and
somebody got an eyeful, and figured out why hed lasted for well over
a hundred licks. No wonder Spanky got too big for his britches,
somebody said.
Dr. Whipple: Several did, but I told em nobody said he couldnt wear
falsies.
Ghostwriter: Come on, weve got to get to the bottom of this issue.
Dr. Whipple: There was this one kid, Samson Solero, only about
twelve. But that boy was the size of an ox. One day he got caught
chewing gum in his cubicle. The teacher marched him down to the
principals office to get disciplined. Seems like theyd underestimated
Samson. He told the principal that if he tried to hit him with the
paddle, hed ram itah, send it where the sun dont shine. Mr.
Malarkey, the teacher, threatened to call the cops. But before he could
restrain Samson, the kid twisted the mans wrist, grabbed him in a
backwards chokehold and flung him over his shoulder, slamming him
down on the principals desk. Then he grabbed the paddle and chased
the principal down the hallway with it, screeching like Tarzan.
Dr. Whipple: Unfortunately, yes. All liars have VIP reservations in the
Lake of Fire. But Proverbs promises that if you beat the hell out of
your kid, he wont go there. Either a boy catches hell here on earth or
hell dwell in hell for all eternity. Spanky got spanked so much he got
scorch marks on his britches. But he still rebelled against my authority
by reading a Superman comic book during one of my sermons. What
kind of a sorry testimony to a lost and dying world is it, when a
pastors own son wont focus on the ministry of the Word of God? It
was an exciting sermon, too, about Samson slaying an army of
Philistines with the jawbone of an ass!
Dr. Whipple: I suspected some New Age infiltrator must have cast a
spell on my spanking equipment. I had to fast and cast a legion of
demons out of all my rods of correction before my children would
respect my authority again.
Dr. Whipple: Certainly. Didnt satan enter into Judas Iscariot? I had to
fast and pray three days to drive the devil out of my Cadillac
carburetor. Satan doesnt want our cars to work, our paddles to work,
or our families to function the way God intended. The stomach is the
seat of food, the heart is the seat of romantic love, the brain is the
seat of confusion, and a childs hindquarters are hells headquarters.
Sometimes it takes a holey paddle to drive the enemauh, enemy! out
of a childs seat of education. Sin stinks in Gods nostrils.
Peevishly, Dr. Whipple rang his tiny church bell for Maria the maid. He
suggested some bearberry tea with honey and lemon might cure my
cough.
Ghostwriter: Thatd be nice, thanks. Dr. Whipple, why do you think its
obligatory to teach through pain? Isnt there any other way to rear
kids in the faith without pulverizing their posterior with a paddle?
Dr. Whipple (with a sly grin): Some Christian families punish their kids
legs with sticks and rulers instead, especially in the case of girls. Ive
heard of teachers whacking brats on the back or shoulders with a
yardstick. Pain purges iniquity out of a childs sordid soul.
Ghostwriter: Stupid me. I thought the blood of Jesus did that. And the
more pain, the better. I heard of one teacher who made a kid wear a
clothespin on the tip of their tongue for talking too much. And what if
youd kept a medieval torture rack down in your Inner Spanktum to
instill holiness into your kids?
Dr. Whipple (smirking): Youre stretching the issue now. I believe the
sheriff might have run me in for that, dont you think?
Dr. Whipple: I most certainly did! The Rod is Gods ONLY divinely
sanctioned remedy for juvenile misbehavior!
Dr. Whipple: Aw, to hell with secular humanist science! Any idiot
knows a Christian parent would never inflict permanent damage on his
own kid! Nobody that calls themselves a Christian would ever, under
any circumstances, use a paddle on a skinny leg, a scrawny back, or a
collarbone! After praying that God would bless the paddle to its
intended use, a Christian dad would instinctively know that the paddle
goes on the kids buns, not his bones!
Dr. Whipple: Oh, children can be so ornery! One night, I was rudely
awoken by a million motorcycles tearing into our front yard. Seems
like Spanky had got himself plastered and the Hells Angels had given
him a lift home. When I staggered downstairs in my bathrobe, Spanky
had the effrontery to try to introduce his new pals. When I refused to
let them in for a glass of lemonade, he lowered his pants to show
some vulgar tattoo and dared me to do anything about it. After I
chased the gang away with a garden hose, Spanky and me, we had a
little POW! wow out in the garage. I spanked Spanky with an old fan
belt because the kids buried my pants belt in the backyard. He didnt
even cry. His brain was so pickled he giggled. The only good thing that
came out of that episode was I remembered we needed burger buns
for next days lunch.
Dr. Whipple cackled, very pleased with his pun. Only the suffering of
other people could elicit laughter from this grim old grouse.
Dr. Whipple: Besides Spanky, there were Blastus, Fanny Mae, and my
twin daughters Grace and Mercy. Five in all. Not a very big family, but
my wife Willow rebelled against God and walked out on me one night
after I corrected her car with a broom handle to drive satan out of its
accelerator. So I got out of the begetting business.
Dr. Whipple: Shed just had the car checked out and it was given a
clean bill of health. Then she lost control of the car one snowy night
when she drove to town for groceries. She struggled with her brakes,
but the car raced down the hill because satan seized control of it.
Ghostwriter: Dr. Whipple, how deep would you say the snow was on
that particular night, and was ice a major problem?
Dr. Whipple: The snow was only six or seven inches deep, and I wasnt
there to inspect the roads for ice.
Dr. Whipple: I gave the orders around my own home and she had to
take them. Even if I told her to jump off a cliff, she had to submit to
my authority. Thats what the Bible teaches.
Dr. Whipple: Before she left we prayed that God would watch over her
all the way. But despite our fervent prayers, the accelerator acted up
and the brakes rebelled. On top of that, the state trooper clocked
Willow speeding down the hill at 120 miles per hour. She was shaking
like a leaf but that devil was so mean he slapped a ticket on her
anyway. I gave that car the whipping of a lifetime to cast the devil out
of it, but Willow ran back in the house screaming that I was a nutcase
and that was the last nail in the coffin of our marriage. Before I could
stop her, she locked me out of the house and called her brothers to
come get her and the children, because she was way too scared to
sleep in the same house with me.
Dr. Whipple: Gods perfect will was sabotaged by satan on that fateful
night. If only shed stayed and done her duty, we might have had ten
times as many kids to rear up in the faith, because I was a red-
blooded Romeo.
Dr. Whipple: You bet. Willow cried for joy when I bought her a lovely
gift for her first baby shower, even though I was between pastorates
and we were too poor to pay the rent.
Ghostwriter: So what was that particular present, where did you get it,
and how much did it cost?
Dr. Whipple: Ill give you a hint: It was for the nursery, it was from an
exclusive shop, and it was a priceless, one-of-a-kind item.
Ghostwriter: So you bought Willow a diamond-studded bassinet from
Saks Fifth Avenue?
Dr. Whipple: Ha ha, very funny. I did better than that. Our local Save
the Snails Second Hand Store was located on Sixth Avenue, so I got
her prezzie at Saks Sixth Avenue. Paid just two bucks for it, and its a
treasure. Willow forgot to take it when she left. Ive saved it in that
keepsake cabinet over there. Just a sec and Ill fish it out for you.
Dr. Whipple: Well, maybe she liked it better than the prezzie I got for
her birthday; a broken bun warmer I salvaged from the dump. She
cried and called me cheapskate. I told her I didnt even have two
cents in my pocket and it was better than nothing, and I could fix it.
Dr. Whipple: When Blastus was about this high, I took the whole family
out to Croakers Cafeteria for their Mothers Day luncheon. All the kids
chipped in their allowance to help finance this special treat.
Dr. Whipple: Oh, of course I was. But I wanted to teach the children
the blessedness of giving out of love. Now, as I recall, Blastus had
been diagnosed by the doctor with mild anemia, and was ordered to
eat iron-rich foods. When we reached the meat section, he wanted
fried fish. I promptly removed it from his tray and ordered him to take
the coddled liver. He stuck out his tongue and said he couldnt eat that
greasy gray junk.
Dr. Whipple: Because his cussed human will had to be broken. Seems
like satan had other plans for Blastus. While he sat in the car, he was
bawling his eyes out. Some truck drivers came over and asked what
was the matter. Blastus told these wicked devils that I, his loving
father, was starving him because he couldnt eat that nasty, yucky
liver. So they went next door to McDonalds and got him a Big Mac,
fries and Coke to eat in the car.
Dr. Whipple: They were afraid to do much about it, or they would have
gotten their chuck roasts chastened.
Ghostwriter: Ill tell you in a minute. But first, could you please clarify
for our readers exactly what you mean by the Way of the Cross?
Dr. Whipple: Sorry you see it that way. Paul said I count everything
as loss and gladly suffer all things in order that I may win Christ.
Ghostwriter: Well, Paul didnt have any kids to beat, so his sacrifices
must have been different from yours. Speaking of kids, I cant believe
you actually named one of your kids Blastus!
Dr. Whipple (poker-faced): Sure did. Its in your Bible. Look it up.
Blastus in Greek means a growing sprout. Youre the one with the
twisted mind if you cant see the beauty in that.
Ghostwriter: Did all the guys at school razz Blastus about his name?
Dr. Whipple: Most of the time, no. Just called him Blastoff.
I sipped more tea and slipped out. When I got back from the
bathroom, the freak show started up again.
Ghostwriter: Oh, where were we? Whyd you name your daughter
Fanny, since that name might be misconstrued by modern minds?
Ghostwriter: So you did hint at a homonym or two. Did your wife help
you pick out those names?
Dr. Whipple: Quite the contrary. The pains of childbirth were good
spiritual discipline for my wife, and when she had the twins she did get
two kids for only nine months of barfing up her breakfast, instead of
the usual eighteen. God cursed women in the garden because it was
Eve who transgressed first. The punishment fits the crime. Thats why
men get off easier.
Dr. Whipple: St. Beatrices Basilica. They ran the most fantastic board-
ing school for harried parents who didnt have the gumption to
discipline their kids, and found them too much of a handful.
Dr. Whipple: Sure was. Mild offenses got a kid ten whacks with a
yardstick while gross misconduct could earn a kid up to twenty swats
with a hardwood paddle. Repeated misbehavior got them thrown out
on their reI mean, ear.
Ghostwriter: What about the horses? What part do they play in your
life purpose?
Dr. Whipple: American youth are rotten to the core. Parents are
unable to cope with the disrespect and godlessness of this generation.
Im sure you must have heard about correctional camps for brats
where they have to learn responsibility by working on a ranch and
cleaning up after horses. Nothing like old-fashioned horse manure to
purge wickedness out of teenagers and instill patience and humility in
their souls. Wayward souls only learn obedience through suffering,
and my horses can surely provide it.
Dr. Whipple: Id hire like-minded people who not only know the basics
of ranching, but who would be willing for me to disciple them and train
them in my vision of Gods ideal Christian home. And once theyve
caught the vision and learned how to break a childs will like you
break a wild horse, I could start straightening out rebellious souls at
Paddle Pony Ranch.
Dr. Whipple: And all the angels of heaven rolled out the red carpet for
this blessed saint of God. What a grand entrance this man earned by
saving so many souls!
Ghostwriter: And blistering so many bottoms?
Ghostwriter: Your book indicates that you spanked your own children
every time they fouled up.
Dr. Whipple (crossly): So what? It gets the job done, doesnt it?
Dr. Whipples steely blue eyes sparkled. Here was a topic he could sink
his fangs into.
Ghostwriter: Unbelievable. Man, you got off cheap. Good thing Fanny
didnt sue. Apparently, you dont believe in innocent till proven guilty
beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Ghostwriter: Can you think of any other occasion a child got unjustly
spanked in your home?
Dr. Whipple: Lets see Mercy and Grace, my twin daughters, got in
trouble when they were five. My other kids were outside playing
when I heard a loud crash in the living room. Out the corner of my
eye I saw them frolicking so fast I couldnt focus on which was which.
I saw one of them knock a glass of milk off a coffee table, as raced
around in circles. Both lookalike girls were dressed alike, wore their
hair alike, even sounded alike. When they saw me, they ran out of the
room and I chased them upstairs and cornered them in the attic.
Which one of you spilled the milk? I asked them. They both stared
at me, terrified. Neither twin would tell on the other. But justice had
to be done. Somebody had to pay for the spilt milk, which was worth
twenty licks. So I gave each girl ten taps on the caboose to satisfy
their sin debt. When they stopped crying I ordered each of them to
ask Jesus for forgiveness, to wash their milkI mean, sin, away.
Ghostwriter: Do you think prayer can be a forced faade, like all the
questionable conversions the Crusaders made at the point of a sword?
Dr. Whipple: Certainly not! If you have ears to hear, Ill set forth my
theological viewpoint. God has appointed the father of the family as
its intermediary priest between Christ and his family. Children need
their earthly dad to confess their sins to, so he can bridge the gap
between them and an angry God. Apart from the priestly ministrations
of the father, Christ Jesus cannot reconcile his children with the Father
in heaven. And such a man had better make darn sure he gets to the
bottom of his childs sin first before God gets the chance to wash it
away. If God got rid of the guilt before the childs dad beat the devil
out of him, that would be an improper breach of priestly protocol!
Ghostwriter: And it would make the dad feel like a creep, wouldnt it?
And what about I Tim.2:5? There is only one mediator between God
and man, Christ Jesus. Nothing is said about a paddle-wielding dad
standing between a child and Christ. Apparently the little children
went straight to Christ without asking His disciples permission. Jesus
didnt ask anybody to beat the sin out of them before He laid hands on
them and blessed them. Jesus didnt agree with His disciples that the
kids were pesky little nuisances and should be sent away. Instead of
calling them little vipers, as one famous preacher did, Jesus said in
Matthew 18:3 that it was necessary to become like little children to
qualify for entry into His Kingdom.
Dr. Whipple: I suppose Jesus meant you had to become like them in
the sense of meekly submitting yourself to Gods chastisement.
Dr. Whipple: I still maintain that the gluteous maximus is the seat of a
childs religious training, and any father who refuses to fan juniors
fanny with a paddle in one hand and a Bible in the other is a wimp.
That man is failing God and will one day end up in hell to take his own
whipping! And so will the child. Better to be pounded with a paddle in
the here and now than to be poked with a pitchfork down in hell.
Ghostwriter: I already mentioned that Bloody Mary had the same idea.
But how about the Prodigal Son? Is he roasting down in hell because
he didnt get clobbered with a belt?
Dr. Whipple: Id say life gave the Prodigal Son the spanking he
deserved. He lost all his friends after he blew all his dads money, he
smelled like a commode from working in a pig pen, and he was half
dead from hunger when he got home.
Ghostwriter: So for all this talk about Jesus already having satisfied
the debt for our sins, the truth behind the truth is we have to pay for
our sins before the atonement of Christ kicks in, especially in the case
of a tiny child who hasnt been around the block like older folks. Thats
nonsense, Dr. Whipple.
Dr. Whipple: Okay, Ill give you another example if you cant grasp the
deeper things of God. As I postulate in my book Daddys Discipline,
suppose a prison convict is sentenced to die for his crime. The day
before his scheduled execution, that criminal has a conversion
experience and comes to know Christ as Savior. That evildoer has been
transformed by the power of God. All his sins have been washed away
as far as east is from west. He is a new man. God declares this man
to be blameless and just in His sight. But the penalty for his sin must
still be enforced because thats the law of the land. The same principle
applies to the law of your home. Even if God did manage to satisfy
HIS standard of justice and wash your childs sins away BEFORE the
paddling is carried out, your child still owes a debt of pain and shame
to pay for his crime against the rules of the house. He must still
satisfy your criteria for justice because hes under your roof.
Ghostwriter: Criminal? You can hardly equate spilt milk with murder.
The irony doesnt escape me. Why couldnt you have shown mercy to
Mercy and grace to Grace, or, rather, grace to Mercy and mercy to
Grace? Why not ask Jesus to clean up their sin and allow Him to pay
for their spilt milk before you beat it out of their hide? Unless Jesus
sacrifice on the Cross wasnt sufficient to pay for their frailties, and
they had to pay matching funds! But their over-your-head interaction
with Jesus would threaten your own power position, wouldnt it?
Ghostwriter: So its the parents job to make sure kids pay for Gods
allegedly free grace.
Ghostwriter: Weve hit a brick wall. Just drop it for now or well get
nowhere. Lets dont rattle sabers at each other, or well never get your
precious punitive project off the ground so you can expose the idiocy
of skeptics. Remember any other incident where you spanked an
innocent kid?
Dr. Whipple: Early one morning (and we always crawled out of bed
before six!) I was leading family devotions. My wife started praying
very softly. As she lifted her lovely face toward heaven, her glorious
countenance was illuminated by the golden rays of the dawning sun.
She looked like an angel. Suddenly this holy moment was shattered
by a rude noise, and my olfactory nerves came under assault.
Dr. Whipple: The ideal Christian wife and mother is the closest thing on
earth to an angel. She should rise above such satanic sins. Satan
entered into Judas, and he can lodge in any part of the anatomy.
Dr. Whipple (waving his hand): Yes! I realize that now. But I still stand
by everything else Ive always believed and taught. Can we please
change the subject to clear the air? BecauseRoscoe! (shouting at the
lethargic bird dog lying at his feet). The devil made you do that, you
nasty old ****! Shoo! Get out of here before I tan your tail!
Ghostwriter: Temper, temper, Dr. Whipple. God made His creatures out
of dirt, and living, breathing bodies dont always act like angels. Are
you a perfect man, Dr. Whipple? Do you ever sin against God in
thought, word or deed?
Ghostwriter: Ill keep that in mind, but I need to dig deeper, which
well do tomorrow. My, this is so fascinating! Thanks for your time,
Dr. Whipple.
Dr. Whipple: Care for another drink while you wait for your ride?
Before Dr. Whipple could reach the window to part the curtains for a
peek, Roscoe jumped on the coffee table and spilled what was left of
my tea. The draconian disciplinarian dashed after the dog with a
rolled-up magazine, away from the den windows toward the kitchen.
Blastus! Why did you throw that chicken on the floor! Pick it up right
now and throw it in the garbage!
I aint lying!
All right, kid! I shouted. Now youre cruisin for a bruisin and achin
for a breakin! My Bible teaches that every liar will end up roasting in
the Lake of Fire for all eternity, so Id better burn up your britches to
make you repent so you wont get your buns toasted there!
I whipped off my belt and blistered Blastus butt. And when it was
over, I warned him to stop crying or hed get some more, because
continued crying is a sure sign of rebellion against parental authority.
I knelt down with Blastus and ordered him to beg Jesus to forgive him
for throwing food on the floor and lying about it. And I told him him
him him hed get his can corrected again if he refused to do this.
After I beat Blastus, I couldnt make him pray. Blastus blasted off. He
didnt want to ask Jesus forgiveness. Blastus didnt want me to bless
him after blistering him! As he ran away, Blastus bellowed that I
couldnt force him to lie to Jesus or hed burn in hell for it. At that
moment the dog came in the kitchen with Willow, and she said:
Ernest, I put that cold chicken on the counter to cut it up for lunch.
Comet snuck up and grabbed it, and he ripped off one leg before I
could reach him. I tried to get our lunch back, but he ran upstairs and
gobbled it up in the bathroom. Hey, why is Blastus blubbering?
Dont you think you spanked the wrong kid? She seemed irked.
Ernest Whipple, Ive got no time for your corny comedy! Its too bad
the humane society doesnt defend Blastus like it cares for Comet! if
you dont make things right with him, Ill have a headache tonight.
Just then Blastus got back from bawling in the bathroom and told me it
was the dog that dunnit. I ate crow and apologized to Comet for
punishing his best pal, since I couldnt sire more souls to save if my
wife had a headache.
Blastus blasted off, leaping and praising God for his windfall. I felt less
guilty after that, cause I figured each lick was worth one buck. But on
later reflection, I realized I was practicing bad theology by paying the
devil off and made him mow the grass for free later.
Ghostwriter: Well, at least it was for your children. Its easy to take
other peoples pain with a grain of salt. Sure, you can learn from
anything, even a mad monkey. Miscarriages of justice still arent fair.
Dr. Whipple: Hmmm, Id say it all comes out in the wash. What about
all those times Blastus fed his liver to the dog under the table and I
didnt catch him? An undeserved spanking can be credited to a childs
Spanking Spread Sheet up in heaven to pay for those times justice
didnt catch up with them.
Ghostwriter: Spanking Spread Sheet? Howd you cook that one up?
Dr. Whipple. Easy. God bottles up all our tears in heaven, so He must
keep track of why they were shed, and part of that reason would be
the spankings we get in life.
Dr. Whipple: Well, it makes up for those times when eyes stay
stubbornly dry when they could be crying from sorrow for sin.
Dr. Whipple: I just knew God had given me a special gift to detect
hidden spirits of rebellion. As priest over my own household, God
expected me to pick up on my childrens innermost thoughts. The
boys were by far the worst. If I even suspected Spanky might be
fantasizing about Mad Magazine on a Sunday, Id drag him down to the
Inner Spanktum and wear him out real good.
Ghostwriter: I dont get it, Dr. Whipple. How can you decide in
advance what thoughts youre going to think? They just appear out of
nowhere.
Ghostwriter: Hey, isnt this the same guy who butchers billions of
bullocks a year to feed his royal court, and hes preaching at us about
moderation in eating? But back to my other point. You contend that
its a sin if a bad thought invades your head from out of nowhere. So
is it a sin to be tempted to do something wrong, even if you say no to
the temptation?
Dr. Whipple: The very fact youre even tempted to do something bad
means your heart is rotten to the core.
Ghostwriter: What about Jesus being tempted in the wilderness? Or
Hebrews 4:15, which states that Jesus was tempted in every way
weve been tempted, and was still without sin?
Dr. Whipple: The fact remains that God chose me to detect hidden
rebellion in the hearts of my children and crack down hard on it, then
lead them back to God whenever they went astray.
Dr. Whipple (grinning like a clever cat): Inside my book youll find a
nifty semicircular diagram called a Remorse Meter, shaped like a car
speedometer. On the far left is Rebellion, and on the far right
Repentance. You judge the condition of a childs heart by the tone of
his crying after youve laid into him with the Rod of Correction. A
rebellious cry is a loud, raucous, angry screech like a cat with its tail
caught in the door. On the other end of the spectrum youll find
repentance, which is indicated by a soft, subdued, sniffling sob. If
the childs crying gets out of hand, more licks with The Rod are
needed till he changes his tune.
Ghostwriter: This might not interest you, but Solomon, your favorite
Bible teacher, said that only God knows the hearts of the children of
men. That was part of his prayer to dedicate the Temple. Here. I
found it in the concordance app on my phone. 2 Chronicles 6:30. As
for that one greater than Solomon, Jesus, He said in John 8:15, I
judge no man. And whats one of His best-known sayings? Judge not,
lest ye be judged. And why do you notice the speck in your brothers
eye while theres a big plank in your own?
Dr. Whipple: One Sunday during the doxology, I heard a noisome noise
and knew where it came from. Naturally I couldnt call the culprit out
from the pulpit. I had to wait till his mom marched him up front
during the altar call.
Blastus, I said to him, Ive spanked you so many times the seat of
your pants is worn out. Why would you run the risk of getting another
spanking if your blessed assurance is still aching from the last one?
He looked up at me with tears in his eyes. I dont know, Dad. The
devil told me hed turn my innards to jelly if I didnt burp him out of
my belly! Im scared of him! Oh, please save me from satan, Dad, or
hell turn me into Fartacus the infernal frog!
Ordinarily, in such a case, I couldnt blame Blastus. But I caught a
glimpse of his buddies in the back pew cracking up. I was on to him.
Blastus was hopping on his knees, his eyes were rolling and he was
croaking like a frog. I clobbered his can with my belt and shouted,
Fartacus the Frog, I rebuke you! Get out of Blastus life forever! You
came through the front door of the church, so leave out the back door!
Go back to hell from whence you came!
One more noisome noise and Blastus shouted he was healed. Only
when Blastus was all grown up did he tell somebody his friends had
paid him to pull that stunt, just to test his old mans smarts to see if
Id fall for it. But I sure fooled him!
Ghostwriter: I guess you got plenty of exorcise that morning, and
everybody talked about it for weeks on end!
Ghostwriter: No offense intended, but the more you beat a dog the
greater his hostility, and it cant be suppressed forever. The day
comes when that dog bites back. Sorry to have to be so blunt.
Dr. Whipple: Only when they started dating, and I didnt permit that till
they were seventeen. Even then they had to double-date and restrict
their dates to church activities. Every guy the girls went out with had
to get my approval. Most of the boys I met didnt pass muster
because they werent spiritual enough. One of Mercys admirers acted
antsy when I asked him if his father spanked him.
Ghostwriter: About how old was the guy when you asked him that?
Dr. Whipple: Definitely. The man of the house must go the Way of the
Cross first and lead his family down that dark pathway to glory.
Dr. Whipple (pouting): How dare you call my Inner Spanktum a torture
chamber for tiny tushes! I detect a ROOT OF BITTERNESS in your
life, Ghostwriter. IF YOU LOVED JESUS you wouldnt even allow such
sacrilegious demons of doubt and derision to possess your head.
Ghostwriter: If someone owes you a quarter and you owe God a billion
bucks, whos more entitled to mercy?
Dr. Whipple: Instead of criticizing my life, you should search your own
heart first. Maybe you cant make peace with your own past, so
Dr. Whipple sputtered a load of bull and stonewalled and finally said,
But Solomon said_
Ghostwriter: Well discuss that dude next time, since hes the firm
foundation youve built your ministry on. But before I go, Id like to
explore something you said earlier. You contend that unless the father
spanks the child first, Jesus is unable to complete His atoning work in
the life of a little child. Is that truly your heart-felt belief?
Dr. Whipple: It certainly is. John the Baptist said to make restitution if
youre serious about repentance. Otherwise, your repentance is false.
A child makes restitution by getting spanked. Period.
Ghostwriter: The law of your house stipulated that a guilty child always
got spanked, regardless of any sorrow or repentance happening in his
heart. The Law of Moses operated the very same way. Regardless of
whether or not the sinner was contrite, the penalty still had to be
paid. The woman caught in adultery was brought to Jesus by a crowd
of men determined to see that she paid the full price of her sin, which
meant being stoned to death. But Jesus showed those men that none
of them was sinless enough to cast the first stone. Were you without
sin, Dr. Whipple, when you dragged your children down to the Inner
Spanktum?
Dr. Whipple (tersely) Oh I suppose not, but they had to learn to mind!
Dr. Whipple: Mrs. Wesley would spank her children as young as nine
months old, but that didnt seem to do John Wesley any harm. That
woman must have done something right to produce such a godly son.
Dr. Whipple: Maybe their being such a large family had something to
do with it. Too many mouths consuming a limited amount of food.
Dr. Whipple (petulantly): You know full well what I said! Break his will
or hell fry in hell!
Ghostwriter: Break his will or hell fry in hell. Well, you need a big
boulder to crack an egg to fry. Might makes right. The only people
Jesus threatened to pulverize were enemies who rejected and killed
Gods Son. It was they who would fall on the rock and be broken. Read
all four gospels. Not once does Jesus threaten to break a child.
Dr. Whipple: I didnt say break the child himself. Just his will!
Ghostwriter: Christ didnt say that either. In fact, break the will
doesnt occur even ONCE in all Scripture! The closest I found was
Psalms 119:20, where the author states that his soul breaks for the
longing he has for the Word of God. It doesnt say his daddy beat that
longing into him. It happened on its own, or God inspired that
reaction to holy things.
Dr. Whipple: A spiritual giant like John Wesley cant be too far off base.
He was a theological genius, not an armchair skeptic.
Dr. Whipple: The Rod is a stick, plain and simple. You dont spank with
a plank.
Ghostwriter: Ah, its a question of semantics. Or, shall we say, good
old-fashioned hair-splitting hermeneutics? Doesnt a paddle qualify as
being a plank, or if you prefer, a board?
Dr. Whipple reddened and snapped, It all depends on its intended use,
and before each and every paddling Id say a blessing over the board,
uhpaddle! Just like Id pray for God to bless our food to its intended
use, but wouldnt say a blessing over dog food! You build houses with
planks, you build a Christ-loving Christian with a paddle!
Dr. Whipple: Whatever it takes! The parents job is to rein in his wild
colt and control him, even if it takes stripes which cleanse away sin in
the inner parts of the belly, as Proverbs 20:30 teaches. And Solomon
teaches in Proverbs 23:14: If you beat your son with the rod, youll
deliver his soul from hell.
Dr. Whipple: You know darn well that God expects only a spiritual
application of such scriptures! When a Christian goes up to possess
his spiritual Canaan and cast out the giants in the Land, he doesnt use
an AK-47 to take out the enemy. The Christian applies those warfare
passages by using the Word of God to cast down invisible powers and
strongholds. Christians use spiritual weapons to win a spiritual victory.
Ghostwriter: So why isnt spanking spiritualized away like all those
scary scriptures commanding genocide, forced marriage of virgin war
captives, capital punishment for adulterers, and so on? Are certain
scriptures given a literal application for the convenience of Christians
who need to take their frustrations out on little kids? It takes a lot less
brains to pound respect out of your kid than to earn his respect by
treating him with human empathy and gentleness. Beatings and
whippings cant force a child to love you for a lifetime.
Hed barely finished saying this when Maria appeared with a cookie
tray. Dr. Whipple accepted an Oreo.
Ghostwriter: You dont intend to eat that now, do you, Dr. Whipple?
Dr. Whipple: What else would I do with a cookie? Feed it to the dog?
Ghostwriter: Unless that counts as your dinner, you just ate between
meals! Why isnt John Wesleys anti-snacking ordinance just as
binding on believers as his spanking doctrine?
Dr. Whipple: That Oreo Cookie probably wont send my soul to hell, but
if I lie to Christians and say God doesnt require a child to be spanked
before Jesus can forgive them, Ill be down there shoveling coal with
Judas!
Ghostwriter: Guess wed better wrap it up now. But talking with you
was such an education! My, but you learn something new every day!
Dr. Whipple (smiling eerily): As I said before, this planet is one big
classroom where you learn how to live. You must be very thirsty after
all that talking. I remember some orange Koolaid in the fridge. Can I
get you some before you hit the dry, dusty road?
Dr. Whipple: Huh? I cant speak Chinese. Need to call your taxi?
Solomon Sez
I felt like Id barely scratched the surface of this amazing mans life.
After waving farewell to my sky pilot, I strolled across the manicured
yard, then up the plank steps to the sunny porch. I rang the doorbell
and waited for the maid to escort me in. She stared sullenly at me.
Maria: Okay, I guess. But after you left yesterday, the boss took it out
on me and the dog. He rebuked Roscoe till he howled for mercy. Then
he made me beat the rugs, polish his paddle collection, wax the
woodwork with Q-tips, and darn his damned socks.
Dr. Whipple (to the maid): You can fetch a few Fig Newtons, or
whatevers left in the cupboard. As for myself, Ive started a 3-day
fast. Do you fast, Ghostwriter?
Dr. Whipple: Its great discipline for the fallen flesh, just like when I
sent my children to bed without supper for neglecting to do their
chores. God will not hear my prayers unless I keep my body under
subjection with suffering. Jesus died for me so the least I can do is
starve for Him every now and then. Failure to fast ties Gods hands.
As we abstain from food and focus only on Him, it strengthens Him to
achieve greater victories against satan.
Dr. Whipple: With God all things are possible. If Sherwood dies of
distemper or some other deadly disease, the door will open for Willow
and myself to reconcile. If she fasts a whole month in sackcloth and
ashes to show how sorry she is.
Dr. Whipple: For the sake of Willows soul. Shes the one living in sin,
and she needs to see that sin carries terrible consequences. I never
remarried after she forced this divorce.
Ghostwriter: What kind of stepdad would you make if they were part of
your life?
Dr. Whipple: Nope, and I wouldnt care to. Besides, I havent lived
within a thousand miles of Willow or my own kids for 40-odd years.
But I had to pay for their support, even after Willow got hitched again.
If I fast God is able to set her free from that illicit union. I pray every
day that He teaches her obedience through suffering, and breaks her
stubbornness with the hammer of hard trials. Like Paul committed an
unrepentant enemy to satan for the destruction of his sinful flesh so
that his spirit would be saved in the day of the Lord Jesus, so I have
turned Willow over to the devil, that her bed of adultery might become
a sickbed to break her will and humble her before God Almighty. If
Sherwood gets sick and dies, the sorrow that brings Willow would wilt
her will and make her heart pliable putty in the Hand of God.
Dr. Whipple: Oh, my career choice was a challenge. I almost flew over
to England to go to butler school. What an adventure it would have
been to mix and mingle with mannerly, genteel gentlefolk! Oh, to be
a butler, dishing out discipline down in the servants quarters to
maintain the smooth running of the entire estate!
Ghostwriter: And how, pray tell, would you have undertaken that
intimidating task?
Dr. Whipple: Lets seeI would have chided the chambermaid if she
left dust on the dresser. I would have scolded the scullery maid if she
left fingerprints on the flatware. I would have corrected the kitchen
maid with a withering word if she didnt peel the potatoes properly. I
would have flogged the footman with a feather duster if he came in
late from a date. I would have corrected the cook with a wire whip if
her petit fours flopped.
Ghostwriter (laughing): What a sharp wit you have, Dr. Whipple. But a
cantankerous old cook needs more TLC than that. She might retaliate
with a rolling pin.
Ghostwriter: Did you ever rise above the rank of rear admiral?
Dr. Whipple (Grimacing): No, some rich kid fresh from the naval
academy bribed the top brass to install him in the top job. He was
ten years younger, but I had to call him sir! And that persnickety
punk rubbed my nose in it. Launder, starch, and iron my undershorts,
rear admiral! Scrub my throne till you can eat off it, rear admiral!
Ghostwriter: Did this humiliation hurt your ego and make you
resentful?
Dr. Whipple: Not in the slightest. God used this trial of affliction to
enhance the deep humility Hed already instilled in my soul. But He
more than made it up to me. The honor and respect I was denied out
in the world, I gained in my family home. Before they were out of
diapers my family knew I was the rear admiral of admonition, the
commander of correction, the captain of my own canoe, and most
importantly, the Hallowed High Priest of Punitive Paddles, who held
inspirational spanking ceremonies down in my own inner spanktum.
I felt like Dr. Whipple had already shot himself in the foot.
Dr. Whipple: God laid down a tough law and He means for His kids to
keep it or pay the piper!
Ghostwriter: Then you dont agree with what Peter and James taught
in Acts 15, when the apostles met to decide whether Gentile converts
had to keep the Law of Moses. Acts 15: 28 states that they, and the
Holy Ghost, agreed that non-Jews are not to be circumcised and keep
the Law. And oddly enough, they didnt split hairs on the issue by
differentiating between the so-called moral laws and religious laws of
the Jews. Nothing was said by these apostles about Proverbs being
binding on Gentile believers. If thats so, equal authority must be
given to Esther, a book which never mentions God at all and advocates
the total annihilation of enemies and their families instead of granting
enemies a fair trial and forgiveness.
Dr. Whipple: Even if Old Testament warfare was barbaric, the Proverbs
were authored by God Himself, Who gave Solomon wisdom in all
matters.
Ghostwriter: Whats wise for one may not be wise for another. It was
wise for Old Testament Jews to sacrifice animals and keep Jewish
rituals. Its not wise for us. As to your assertion that the Proverbs are
Gods rather than Solomons, my Bible states in three different verses
that they were Solomons proverbs, and these references dont make
any claims to divine authorship.
As Dr. Whipple fidgeted, I read out loud Proverbs 1:1, 10:1 and 25:1.
Ghostwriter: And most folks were illiterate. Only the upper crust could
read scripture in the original Biblical languages. Centuries ago, it was
illegal for a common peasant to own a copy of scripture, and it was a
capital crime to translate scripture into the vernacular of the general
populace. William Tyndale got burnt to death for translating the Bible
into English. Scripture could only be read to the people in Latin by
priests if they chose to share it at all, and the priests only taught the
people what Rome wanted them to believe.
Dr. Whipple: At least those people had some teacher, even if it had to
be a Catholic priest. God has anointed better-educated Christians to
be the teachers of less advantaged sheep, so it behooves believers to
bow to the authority of those who keep watch over their souls.
Ghostwriter: Like a fox watches over a hen house. John 7:15 confirms
my suspicion that Christ, a peasants foster son, never had the benefit
of a formal higher education, though all village boys were taught to
read and memorize scripture. Jesus never wrote a book or even a
pamphlet to pass on to future generations. But He is the most
important Man Who ever lived. The alleged authority of seminary-
educated eggheads is no excuse for their foisting false doctrine and
ignorance on impressionable souls. The Holy Spirit is the Christians
teacher, as Jesus Himself says in John 14:26.
Dr. Whipple: I still maintain that ALL scripture is inspired by God, and
is profitable for doctrine and instruction in righteousness, as 2
Tim.3:16 states.
Dr. Whipple: But ancient Jews were required to meditate on the Law of
Moses day in and day out.
Dr. Whipple: Youre serious, arent you? You think you can spiritualize
away the All scripture is profitable rule.
Dr. Whipple (smugly): You cant think of any other applicable example.
Ghostwriter: Search all four gospels. Nowhere did Jesus teach that you
turn a child into a saint by beating him with a stick, anymore than you
should beat your dog to make him holier.
Dr. Whipple: Are you challenging the wisest man in all human history?
Dr. Whipple: But surely Solomon repented before his death, and that
would restore his credibility. The book of Ecclesiastes is full of regrets
for his wasted life.
Dr. Whipple: But the Book of Ecclesiastes ends by urging young people
to remember their Creator in the days of their youth. Doesnt that
imply that Solomon had a change of heart?
Ghostwriter: What you do speaks louder than what you say or write. 2
Kings 23:13 specifically says that King Josiah, who by the way, was
Solomons descendant, destroyed idols that were built by Solomon.
Included among them was the sex goddess Ashtoreth, an abomination
to the Lord. And Chemosh, an abominable Moabite child-eating idol.
Now if Solomon truly repented before he died, why on earth didnt he
destroy those filthy idols while he was still living? If you love God youll
hate evil, as Psalms 97:10 teaches. If Solomon did repent, it must
have been a very apathetic repentance.
Dr. Whipple: Once saved, always saved. Ive always taught that.
Dr. Whipple: You still keep your salvation, even if you go out and paint
the town red. All you lose is the cherry on the sundae. Maybe you
wont get to rule over ten cities if you continue in sin, but youll still
suffer punitive loss for your sin, even in heaven. You might end up like
poor Maria, cleaning my bathroom up there and polishing the jewels in
my giant crown.
Ghostwriter: Hey, sorry, Maria, I dont agree. Lets get to the bottom of
your concept of heaven, Dr. Whipple. Do you seriously think well even
need bathrooms up there?
Dr. Whipple: Seriously, no. Our bodies will be perfect up there, so that
eliminates that problem. God would surely find some other way to
punish second-class inhabitants of heaven whove lost their reward.
Ghostwriter: You could clean a billion bathrooms for a billion years with
a billion brushes and a scudillion cans of Comet and it still wouldnt
cleanse away the sin of idolatry. Returning to our main topic, surely
the Christians goal must be to follow Christs example in how we treat
others. Whenever Solomons example conflicts with Christs, it must
not be followed. What Im trying to say, Dr. Whipple, is if God insists
we follow one of Solomons commandments, were also bound to follow
all Solomons other examples. not just in the area of child rearing.
Which brings us to the proof of the pudding: How did Solomons own
kids turn out, assuming he followed his own advice and raised them
under the rod?
Dr. Whipple: If Solomon hit em hard enough, it must have beat the
fear of God into their seatsI mean, souls.
Ghostwriter: But it sure as heck didnt beat the love of God into their
heart. One example sticks out like a sore rump: In 2 Chronicles 10, the
Israelite elders begged Solomons successor, the freshly crowned King
Rehoboam, to ease up on the taxes Solomon had put on them. All
Rehoboam did was promise to make their burden heavier. Whereas
Solomon had beat his people with whips, Rehoboam would chastise
them with scorpions. Thats fear, not the love of Christ toward your
neighbor. Violence always begets violence.
Dr. Whipple: Even Paul said were supposed to fear the authorities who
carry the sword of justice because theyre ministers of Gods
vengeance. My children always knew who spoke softly and carried a
big stick, ever ready to minister to them.
Dr. Whipple: Very funny! The devil might have tempted my children to
disagree with my teaching and formulate a contrary opinion, but they
all knew my word was final, and that was the rear end of the matter.
Ghostwriter: But why should the poor get poorer so the rich can live
luxuriously? I bet Solomon never worked with his hands one day in his
life. I bet he had a slave put the toothpaste on his brush.
Dr. Whipple: Solomon couldnt punch a time clock and mop floors at
the Bagel Barn. Can you imagine the most powerful potentate of the
Middle East dressed up in bib overalls shoveling manure out of his
own horse stables? Can you picture Solomon wearing a hard hat and
toting a lunch pail? He would have been the laughingstock of the
ancient world! What kind of a king would work with his own hands, or
appear in humble garb to his own people, much less his foreign foes?
Dr. Whipple: But all other disciplinary methods are unscriptural and
spiritually detrimental to children.
Dr. Whipple: Those spanking proverbs are still part of the Bible.
Dr. Whipple: Even if your hypothesis is true and Proverbs isnt binding
as Law, per se, its still packed with good common horse sense.
Dr. Whipple: Youre throwing the baby out with the bath water.
Dr. Whipple (irritably) Yes, I heard about that. Everyone knows about
it. Reverend Rascal was a sick, obsessive backslider who couldnt
govern his own gonads. So whats your point?
Ghostwriter: Pardon me for being nosy, but did you really keep that
meticulous a record of your childrens abominable sins?
Dr. Whipple: Why shouldnt I? God will open his record books one day
and judge every one of us for what we did, whether were saved or
lost. But what I meant to say before you interrupted was, that time I
didnt accept Spankys apology. He had failed to heed the admonition,
so I didnt fail to fan his can. Down to the Inner Spanktum we went.
Spanky owed so many arrears for so many previously forgiven glasses
of spilt milk, my belt was smoking by the time I finished correcting his
clumsiness.
Dr. Whipples face froze, then he smirked with a dismissive wave of his
finger. He said: Youve got a spirit of stubbornness, and thats a spirit
of witchcraft. Well, if Jesus could say Get thee behind me satan to
Simon Peter, I can do the same. Either you change your belligerent
attitude or youll end up in hell.
Dr. Whipple: For the moment, well avoid all this wrangling about literal
and allegorical application of scripture. But you do seem to excuse
everything kids do because theyre immature, Ghostwriter. But my
Bible says people are sinners as soon as they enter this world. I know
my children went out of their way to create all the havoc they could
get away with. A lot of nights I couldnt even sit down to a peaceful
family dinner. It wasnt just spilt milk, Ghostwriter, they were always
finding fault with the food. I insisted on Willow serving nutritious
meals only. That meant liver at least once a week. Liver night was
hell night at our house. That was the one night I kept Woody
Woodshed in plain sight, hanging over the china shelf. Any child who
refused to eat their liver got delivered from their rebellion with ten
hard licks.
Ghostwriter: So even if a kid hated his or her liver, they choked it
down to save their seats from being beat?
Dr. Whipple (with a sour grin): Thats some way to put it. I remember
one night Mercy and Grace, my twin girls, came to the dinner table
looking green at the gills. Evidently theyd watched mother cooking
dinner and seen the raw liver in a plastic tub, swimming in its own
blood before she sliced, floured and fried it. They ran outside to vomit.
They begged me to excuse them from supper that night, but I was on
to them and made them come and dine.
Mercy! Grace! I scolded, when both girls refused to eat their meat.
Eat that meat right now! Thats an order!
Everyone lost their appetite when Mercy told us why they didnt want
to eat any liver. It was a bloody mess, and brown gushy goo was
running all over their carrots and potatoes.
They ended up down in the Inner Spanktum, getting ten licks apiece
with Woody Woodshed. They had to ask Jesus to forgive them for not
eating their liver. I forced them to confess the sin of disobedience.
The Bible says, Children, obey your parents in all things.
Ghostwriter: Yes, Ive heard about that scripture, but theres other
verses in Acts 15 where the apostles and the Holy Ghost forbid non-
Jewish converts to consume blood. I know where meat comes from.
But if a child is grossed out by the obvious sight of blood, as in the
case of a rare steak, he or she should have the right to appeal to Acts
15, so a Christian parent cant force them to choke it down.
Dr. Whipple: Both twins turned into vegetarians once they left my
home. Willow and Sherwood let my children eat anything they wished,
so long as it met minimal nutritional standards.
Ghostwriter: Yes, I get that. Your home is your world, and youre the
one who controls everything that happens in it.
Dr. Whipple: The children always knew that I was king of my own
home under Christ Himself. Whenever I did have to spank my children
for not eating up their liver, Id always tell them, Jesus told me to
spank you ten times for leaving that liver on your plate. He told me to
use this paddle to show you how much it hurt Him to die on the Cross
for your sin of wasting good food. If it were up to me, son, Id just let
it go, because I hate to see you suffer. But God is so holy He must
punish sin. He created those sardines to help you grow up big and
strong. But you rebelled against His nutritional plan and fed them to
the dog under the table. Now you must pay the price of your
rebellion. If I dont obey Jesus and spank you, He will spank me, and
we dont want that now, do we?
Dr. Whipple: All sin must be paid for. If the child thinks he can simply
say sorry without any consequences, even if his parent forgives him,
that cheapens the concept of forgiveness and only encourages more
mischief in the future.
Dr. Whipple yawned and glanced at his watch. How convenient for him.
Time for me to split.
Dr. Whipple: Oh, I was going to ask you, Ghostwriter. Care to join me
for church Sunday? World-renowned conference speaker Dr. Flaming
Underwear, I mean, Fleming Underwood! will be preaching.
Dr. Whipple: The deacon told me that after the senior treasurer makes
a few introductory remarks on tithing, Dr. Underwood is going to
deliver his doctrinal dissertation on Hebrews 12, one of my favorite
Biblical passages. Im sure youre familiar with its main theme?
Dr. Whipple grinned and shook his head like he didnt believe me.
Before Maria could open the door and peek out, my Ghostship had
beamed me down to the lush lawn, which owed its verdant beauty to
her husband Joses horticultural expertise. My wise pilot monitoring
the ships infrared scanners always waited for an unobserved interval
before lowering me into the bull pen of contention below.
I shook hands with Dr. Whipple, who rose from his recliner, grimacing.
Dr. Whipple: Its an honor to suffer for Jesus. Ive been fasting for
three days. If the Lord leads, I may go a whole week without eating.
Dr. Whipple: Get thee behind me, satan, speaking such words of doubt
and unbelief! Moses went eighty days without one sip of water, so why
shouldnt I be able to do it too?
Ghostwriter (seating myself): Moses divided the Red Sea and turned a
stick into a snake, so why shouldnt you do that too?
Dr. Whipple: Very funny. Evidently you dont appreciate the spiritual
feast Im enjoying from this painful sacrifice of superfluous flab. If I
dont discipline my own body, God might punish me with puppy fat.
Dr. Whipple (with a sour grin): Did I ever! While Dr. Bottoms
meditated in the mens room, I got the chance to minister to people
as they were getting ready to go home.
Dr. Whipple: I had my notebook with me, and I was jotting down
peoples prayer requests. Sister Bumble told me her Aunt Bea is
getting a sex change operation, and she asked me to pray the Lord
would stop her before she spreads sin germs around. Sister Smiley
asked me to pray for the pastors wife because shes been spotted at
the Spice of Night Shop, and since the pastor isnt into that sizzling
scene, it must mean shes having dessert outside the home, if you
know what I mean. And Bro. Blunt, the deacon, asked me to pray for
Bro. Purdy, who was spotted at the drug store purchasing
Dr. Whipple: The very best doctor can offer the very best medicine, but
unless the patient takes it, hell die. Solomon offered sick souls a lot
of bitter medicine in Proverbs, but most folks cant stomach it. So you
cant blame Dr. Solomon.
Dr. Whipple: Solomon must have meant youd better start beating
satan out of a child before he grows up to be an old fool who cant be
corrected anymore. Solomon could have water-boarded his court
jester in an orange jump suit for a thousand years and it wouldnt have
turned him into a somber preacher.
Before things could get heated, Maria brought me some iced tea. Dr.
Whipple pursed his lips and waved away the refreshment tray, though
it was a hot day. Maria winked at me out the corner of her eye. Her
holy boss would dip into his communion wine when I was out of sight.
Ghostwriter: First off, I want to ask you: Do you believe the body of
the believer is the true house of God?
Dr. Whipple: Yesterday the cat scratched my pinkie and I said Oh,
shoot!, though I meant something else.
Ghostwriter: Who hasnt felt like saying Oh, sugar! every now and
then? Can you think of anything worse? Be honest now, confession is
good for the soul.
Ghostwriter: You sly old rascal! You are human after all!
Dr. Whipple: But were under Grace, not under the Law of Moses!
Ghostwriter: If were not under the Law of Moses, then why put
children under the Book of Proverbs which was written during the
dispensation of Law? That makes no theological sense.
Dr. Whipple (petulantly): Weve already gone over that! Why did you
ask that nosy question about the last time I sinned?
Dr. Whipple: Absolutely. But what does that have to do with the price
of tea in China?
Ghostwriter: And since youre living in Gods house, arent you afraid
Hell tan your hide even though youre forgiven?
Dr. Whipple: I beg God every day to be patient with me and not to
punish me for my peccadilloes. But He wont listen. Last night the cat
jumped in my pajama drawers when I was putting them on and
scratched the devil out of me. This morning a bee flew through the
bathroom window and stung me in the shower. I had to put an ice
pack on my booboo. Thats why Im sitting on a soft cushion.
Ghostwriter: Sounds pretty grim to me. But lets move on to our main
topic. Could you go into greater detail about your Woody Woodshed
punitive products? What specifically, do you have to offer all those
punishing parents out there? (Later, I felt Dr. Whipple might have
made a better pitch if hed used Power Point instead of spouting such a
long spiel and flipping through a prodigious pile of paper charts.)
Dr. Whipple: Oh, hasnt God shown you yet? CD stands for Christian
Deceiver. CDs are embedded with a silicon chip that sends sinister
subliminal signals to the cerebral cortex.
Dr. Whipple: Supersonic frequencies which urge you to turn your back
on God and serve satan instead. Thats why I stick to cassettes.
Ghostwriter: But they used to have a big flap about backward masking
on music cassettes, didnt they? Arent they demon-possessed too?
Dr. Whipple: I seriously doubt the devil would want to get his tail
tangled up in a cassette tape if it got snagged in the player. Its safer
for satan to possess a CD.
Dr. Whipple: I do! And if folks loved Jesus instead of things, theyd be
content with their old gadgets instead of lusting after futuristic toys
built by bionic robots in godless foreign factories. In Jeremiah 6:15,
God said to go back to the old way of doing things.
Ghostwriter: How bout a horse and buggy instead of a car then?
Dr. Whipple: Very funny. Ive forbidden Maria to use a Sat Nav when
she drives to town.
Ghostwriter: Why? Arent you afraid she might get lost out on these
wilderness roads?
Dr. Whipple: Maria is already lost. Lost in sin and headed for hell.
Pots and pans banged in the kitchen. Maria was mad as hell.
Ghostwriter: So whats wrong with Sat Nav, aside from the fact it was
unavailable in the Seventies?
Dr. Whipple: I read that the robot voice who tells you how to get to
where youre going transmits encoded data up to evil entities in flying
saucers, and they alert Antichrist to your whereabouts.
Dr. Whipple (very soberly): Never underestimate the devil. Hes all
around us, up, down, here and there, even in the air you breathe.
Dr. Whipple: Glad you asked. Theres also our Paddle Prayer Shrine,
which can be installed on any shelf. Its carved out of petrified
soapstone with the inscription: The Way to Heaven is a Paddleboat..
The Paddle Prayer Shrine features a golden rack to proudly display the
paddle. Along its length are eight niches for sulfur-scented Correction
Candles, also included. This will enhance the worship aspect of the
chastised childs woodshed experience.
Also included is our patented Misery Monitor, a digital sensor which
picks up pain vibes in the room and measures the intensity of that
pain, so dear old Dad will know if hes hitting hard enough.
To help comfort the child after the spanking, well throw in a few Flying
Spankster Adventure Comics for older children, and Woody Woodshed
coloring books for smaller kids.
Dr. Whipple (scratching his head): Unfortunately, the only ones I know
of are in my ministry office in downtown Butte. Ill have to get my
editorial staff to send me some. I just forgot. I did have one copy
here, but Roscoe chewed it up after I rapped his rump with it. I believe
that was the February, 1982 issue, if my memory serves me right.
Dr. Whipple whispered his answer in my ear, lest the servants overhear
and report him to Big Brother.
Dr. Whipple: Oh, I trust that old thing. Its just an old word processor,
so it cant catch a cold off the Internet, and theres no hidden bugs in
it spying on us right now.
Ghostwriter: Yes and no. Its very artistic, but intimidating enough
that any kid would think the Grand Inquisitor is about to stretch him
on the rack.
Dr. Whipple: Glad you asked that. Solomon said the fear of the Lord is
the beginning of wisdom.
Ghostwriter: The author of Psalms also said the exact same thing. But
theres something I dont get. Solomon is called the wisest man who
ever drew breath. Considering all the unselfish saints and
peacemakers who populate the Whos Who pages of human history,
thats one whale of an achievement. So to get that quantity of wisdom,
Solomon must have been more petrified of the Lord than any other
mortal human who ever lived. And if he was that scared of God, then
why did he build idols that made God mad? If your children hadnt
been scared of you, wouldnt they have let their hair down more often?
Dr. Whipple: I should say not! Spanky and Blastus always wore
military crew cuts and sharp suits to church. Unless you teach sinners
that God will torture them for all eternity unless they love and serve
Him, youre doing them no favor.
Dr. Whipple: Be that as it may, Solomon was a mans man. You didnt
hear him going around singing about powder puff love all the time.
Dr. Whipple (waving his hand): Ill address that doctrine in a minute.
But imagine a hog farmer whos been working in the pigpen all day
long. His overalls are filthy, saturated with muck and grime. His shoes
ooze sewage. The mans face is caked with crud because a 400-pound
hog knocked him down and he got rotten, smelly stuff all over him.
The dirt even seeped through his clothes and got down to his skin. This
man AND his clothes both need cleansing. But they need at least one
quick spitwash outside before they can go inside where the spankin
clean bathroom and laundry room are.
The mans wife comes out onto the back porch and hollers, Bubba,
you stink to high heaven! Take them filthy rags off at once! Were
throwin em out cause I aint a-washin em!
But old Bubba has a stubborn streak. He refuses to throw his dirty
duds away. Theyre too good for the garbage can. He warns his wife
shed better not soak them in water because theyll shrink. Bubba just
bought those perfectly good bib overalls. He lies and says they can
only be dry-cleaned. And worse still, Bubba is too ornery to take his
clothes off and hang them on the line like his wife orders him to do.
By the time they finish arguing, the mud on those clothes has dried in
the hot sun. Filth is flaking off Bubbas body. Dust is swirling around
him and hes attracting horse flies from the barn. The very sight of him
disgusts his wife. But she is still determined to clean Bubbas clothes
even if he wont let her wash them. So she decides to dry-clean them.
She grabs a broom and beats the dust off Bubba, just like they used to
beat a dirty rug before they invented vacuum cleaners. Filth flies
everywhere, and boy, does it smart! Bubba isnt ready to have his
remaining impurities cleansed off his body in the spotless bathroom
until hes covered in bruises.
This sounds crude but its true: Christ did his bit to save your kid, but
your belt bails him out of hell.
Another analogy is the way a dishwasher works better if you first take
the time to pre-rinse 98% of the food off under the tap. When you
spank your child, you create cleansing tears which soften the
remaining crud on your sons soul, and therefore, you make Jesus
cleaning job much easier when the child finally prays for Gods
forgiveness.
I realize my popularity could hit rock BOTTOM by preaching the hard-
to-swallow doctrine of SUPPLEMENTAL SUFFERING SALVATION. But
Solomon himself, the wisest, smartest, holiest Christian who ever
lived, would back up this vital truth: GOD CANNOT SAVE YOUR CHILD
UNLESS YOU BEAT HIS BOTTOM! YOUR ROD IS YOUR KIDS HOTROD
TO HEAVEN! VRO-O-O-OM! Why do I believe this? In Proverbs 23:14
Solomon wrote: IF you beat your son with the rod youll save his soul
from hell! The key is that tiny word if. The clear inference is that if
you punish your kid by grounding him or taking away his skateboard,
hell split hell wide open and hell never see the Pearly Gates.
Ghostwriter: No, Im just being blunt. The Bible teaches that when
God makes people new creatures in Christ, old things have passed
away and all things have become new. Why beat a child whose sins
have already been paid for by Christ, since God drove those old sins as
far away as east is from west? Should the punishing dad reinstate
those old sins so he has an excuse to hit the kid?
Dr. Whipple: Listen to me, Ghostwriter. Youre being very nave about
this. King David received forgiveness from God after sinning with
Bathsheba and killing her husband. But David was still punished the
rest of his life for his sins. Actions do carry consequences.
Dr. Whipple: The Bible says to rebuke all who sin. Except for church
elders, who arent supposed to be rebuked by anyone except God.
Theyre entitled to gentler treatment because of their exalted office.
Likewise, little children enjoy a lower status in the home than
grownups, so theres more latitude in dealing with them.
Ghostwriter: Oh, I get it! The greater your position and privileges, the
less accountable youre supposed to be held for your actions!
Dr. Whipple: But God cracks down on leaders who sin. I just
mentioned the example of David.
Ghostwriter: Lets set that aside for the moment, because I really do
need to hear your opinion on this next question. Ive heard you
repeatedly emphasize that its the father of the family who serves as
the punishing priest to reconcile the child to God. Does it occur to you
that millions of homes out there have no husband and father to fill that
role? Why cant the mother fill in as the disciplinarian?
Dr. Whipple: Because the womans the weaker vessel and she cant hit
hard enough. And Ill tell you one thing, Ghostwriter, if people started
living right, there wouldnt be so many one-parent families! Highly
improper! That isnt Gods perfect order for the Christian home!
Dr. Whipple: You arent the only person who wonders about Solomon.
One erring church brother I knew asked me why any rational Christian
would follow Solomons spanking advice after he financed the building
of child-eating idols like Molech and Chemosh, in order to please his
heathen wives. Like you, this man cited I Kings 11:7 and he had this
to say: Surely Solomon, the wisest man who ever lived, must have
known those idols wouldnt settle for a dog biscuit. Solomon knew
what Molech and Chemosh ate to get their five a day. He knew what
got thrown into their blast furnace bellies each and every day. So it
follows that King Solomon hated kids too much to be much of a child
rearing expert.
Dr. Whipple: The fact remains that Solomon probably didnt personally
throw any kid into the flames. Even if he did provide the opportunity
for his wives or their servants to sacrifice children by building those
idols, the free will of the wives remained.
Ghostwriter: Ive always believed the buck stops at the top. Kings
crave glory and honor, but they dont want to set a decent example for
those same subjects who are expected to praise and honor them.
Dr. Whipple: Its his wives fault for asking him to build those idols.
Dont throw the baby out with the bathwater. Solomon had to run a
regimented nursery and mete out strict discipline. He must have had
more kids than the stars of the sky. Can you imagine hundreds of tiny
terrors lined up single file to take their licks? The ship of his family
had a firm hand on the rudder, and even if ugly idols sank Solomons
ship, he went down with his ship like any brave captain would. Seeing
things from a fresh perspective brings out the real truth and instills in
you a deeper appreciation for hidden riches in the Word of God.
Dr. Whipples rambling rerun rhetoric made me realize the old Punitive
Priest might be getting a little senile. Or, maybe he couldnt get any
SATISFACTION out of this playacted ritual because this time there was
no sacrificial lamb following him in the Punitive Procession to the
chopping block.
O Paddle Divine
O Paddle Divine
Youre faithful to keep my family in line.
I bow at thy shrine
You make children mind
You wonderful Paddle Divine.
Oh those precious rapturous joys you parents and children will forever
share together in eternity as they remember those holy hours in the
woodshed, where Daddy, as the exalted Paddle Priest of his home, led
his weeping, penitent child into the Presence of Almighty God. The
spiritual high both participants take away from this experience will
soothe away the bitter pain of chastisement like honey soothes
sunburn. As the chastised child spiritually transcends his posterior
pain, he will awaken to paradise in the pleasure zone of the soul. As he
bows to Daddys belt in deepest humility, the childs soul will fly on
angel wings to touch the face of God. Thus, even a childs naughty
pranks can be the catalyst through which he enters into deeper
dimensions in his Christian experience. Awareness that Gods glorious
holy justice is being carried out on his bottom fills the childs soul with
songs of praise. His sweetly submissive response to the pain itself
incites an inner ecstasy which transports his soul to heavenly realms
where he can hear the angels sing. This is much like the sublime
spiritual ecstasies experienced by Catholic hermits who habitually whip
their filthy fallen flesh and wear scratchy scapulars to immerse their
innermost being into the glory of God.
Talk about the Agony and the Ecstasy! The sweetness of the joy which
springs from submission to Daddys priestly ministry of chastisement
will overwhelm the child so much he can barely contain it. Instead of
tears of pain, Daddy will see tears of indescribable heavenly delight
seeping from Juniors eyes. He will feel an afterglow so powerful, so
profound, the agonies of earth will grow strangely dim in his sight. All
because the priestly father of the family whipped Woody Woodshed out
of the closet and merged the power of the paddle with the power of
prayer to cure the cancer of sin in his erring childs heart.
Dr. Whipple: Plenty of times. One night we held an invitation after the
church service where I asked every conscience-stricken child to line up
in front of the church. After a short blessing I grouped them according
to age and size. Then I, with the assistance of my disciplinary
deacons, gave each kid ten licks with Woody Woodshed. After that,
none of the kids ever again confessed they had sin in their life.
Ghostwriter: No wonder. Dont ask, dont tell. Well, its about that
hour, Dr. Whipple. Thanks for your time. See you again tomorrow.
As I exited that loony bin I just couldnt stomach the spiritual feast
served up by my holy host. Before the Ghostship beamed me up, I
vomited in Dr. Whipples nasturtium bed.
Session Five
Ghostwriter: Dr. Whipple, for the record, do you consider little children
to be full-fledged people, entitled to all the dignity of human beings
created in the image of God?
Ghostwriter: Dr. Whipple, what if you were to walk through some dark
alleyway in Butte late one night and a guy jumped you and beat the
hell out of you with one of your Woody Woodshed paddles?
Dr. Whipple: Whatever. But misbehaving brats are under the care and
supervision of grown adults. It is their right to exercise discretion in
deciding on appropriate punishment for misbehavior.
Dr. Whipple: Well, disciplines no picnic, thats for sure. Ive lost count
of the days since I started my fast. My innards are atrophying. Im
barely able to concentrate, Im so light-headed. Just to prove my love
for Jesus, I intend to skip my meals a whole month. If that doesnt
butter God up enough to bring Willow home to me, nothing will.
Dr. Whipple: That devil, hes at least ten years younger than Willow.
Ive fasted and prayed for years that God would strike him with
lightning to punish him for wooing my wife away from me.
Dr. Whipple: He sure was. Every week that scoundrel would come to
church with his hair gelled up like Woody Woodpecker, wearing
skintight jeans and a designer jacket, looking like a West Coast surfer
dude who owned the place. Every week after service when I was busy
counting the offering, Sherwood would take a mighty long time to
shake Willows hand and comment on the service. Rumors started
floating around. I suspected something might be going on behind my
back, but Willow behaved like the model Christian wife while she
remained under my roof. The day after Willows brothers took her and
the children to her mothers, she called Sherwood to cry on his
shoulder about how mean I was. That was the day my family piled
into Sherwoods old van and went West to get away from me.
Who can blame them for running away from your religion? I thought.
Ghostwriter: Let me rephrase that. Did you ever hit Willow to show
you were displeased about something?
Dr. Whipple: Oh, I corrected her with a coat hanger once for forgetting
to starch my church shirt. But she knew I was only playing.
Dr. Whipple: Then there was this other occasion when Willow got so
confused by the childrens commotion she poured prune juice in the
pancake batter instead of milk.
I laughed.
Dr. Whipple: I didnt think it was so funny at the time, cause I was
hungry as a bear. I told Willow that as a hard-working preacher, I was
entitled to a decent breakfast, and she should have shut those kids up
so she could concentrate on the pancake batter.
Dr. Whipple: She threw a tantrum. She slam-dunked the batter bowl
in the sink and said she wasnt my slave, and I could take the family
out to Dennys for at least one breakfast a year to give her a break.
Dr. Whipple: I told her she was behaving like a child so Id treat her
like one. I spanked her with a spatula about three times. She ran
upstairs crying that Id humiliated her in front of her own children.
She wouldnt speak to me the rest of the day or night.
Ghostwriter: Be that as it may, sounds like your wife got turned off by
your spatula spanking.
Dr. Whipple: Poor me, I had to fix the kids breakfast, lunch and
dinner that day. And oh, yes, I rescued the pruney pancake batter
from the sink. Then I cooked em up for the kids and said if they
didnt eat those purple pancakes as punishment for their
pandemonium, Id turn their posteriors pink.
Dr. Whipple: I told her that even if I was out of order for disciplining
her in front of the children, she shouldnt freeze me out of my own
bedroom. I told her I loved her so much Id give her the sun, the
moon and the stars to prove it, and she could at least turn the other
cheek instead of acting cross.
Dr. Whipple: Spanky and Blastus nearly fell through the floor when I
told some trick-or-treaters their parents would burn in hell if they
didnt believe in spanking. Both boys hid their faces in shame when
they saw me scaring those kids in my costume. I wore my bright red
Correction Cape and the tall Correction Cap, and ritual robes. I
marched through the living room by candlelight, carrying Woody
Woodshed and intoning a solemn invocation as the Gregorians groaned
and my white cap glowed in all its glory.
Dr. Whipple: Ill say! Instead of giving em candy to rot their teeth, I
gave em spiritual food for their fallen souls. After that particular year,
no rug rat ever darkened my door again on Halloween night. Saved a
fortune on candy.
Ghostwriter: Did you get any feedback from the kids you gave the
comics to that night?
Dr. Whipple (looking angry): Ill say those comics made an impact!
The dirty devils woke me up at two a.m., hollering and yelling outside
in our yard. One guy ripped up Flying Spankster comic books and
scattered the pages all over the lawn while his buddy lowered his pants
and mooned me when I looked out. Next day they picked on poor
Spanky and Blastus at school, and they were the butt of countless
jokes. They swatted them in the locker room with a Flyball paddle and
said their dad was a horny devil whod chase them to hell with a
pitchfork if they didnt take their licks. No Christian in America ever
took worse persecution than me, and I deserve the biggest crown in
heaven for what they put me through.
Dr. Whipple: She did her best to cheer me up. Before long, sparks
were flying in our bedroom again.
Ghostwriter: My main worry is, not all dads are created equal in size or
strength. You might have a 98-pound weakling who can barely hurt a
fly, spanking a 150-pound teenager. Then, you might have a 200-
pound karate champ spanking a two-year-old. Not only that, each
man can subjectively decide how many licks, how hard, what
implement to use and so forth. Is that really a fair, level playing field?
Dr. Whipple: Im sure the big, muscular man would have sense enough
to take his size and strength into consideration when spanking a small
child, to prevent actual injury.
Dr. Whipple: I still say God gave children to Christian parents to raise
under The Rod, and the government has no right to interfere!
Ghostwriter: So what youre saying is, the authorities should just take
a Christians word for it that hell behave like a follower of Christ and
tone down the torture to avoid crippling or killing the child.
Dr. Whipple: Hey, I thought you were the soft-hearted one here. Your
enemies will suffer a bit of discomfort if God gives them what they
deserve. Didnt Christ command us to love and pray for our enemies?
Dr. Whipple: Jesus said to do good to those who hurt you, even if its
you who has to do all the suffering while they have all the good times!
Youre supposed to want nice things for your foes, not painful things!
Dr. Whipple: Exactly. I know its a bitter pill to swallow, to pray that
your enemy enjoys pleasant things while youre left to pick up the
broken pieces from their harm, possibly for a lifetime. But thats our
Saviors will, and if youre gonna follow Him, youll say amen to that.
Ghostwriter: For the record, lets get our definitions straight. What
exactly do you mean by Gods goodness?
Dr. Whipple: Any blessing which makes a heart happy and joyful.
Getting all your needs met, receiving wonderful things which make you
peaceful and cheerful. Things which bring sunshine and smiles.
Ghostwriter: So your definition of the good things whereby God draws
sinners unto Himself would not include painful experiences which teach
sinners a lesson?
Dr. Whipple: Its the devil who deals in what ifs. If you loved Jesus,
you wouldnt want or need justice. And as for my spanking repentant
children, Christians have always done it! End of story.
Dr. Whipple: Does this mean youre retracting your former position and
agreeing that its necessary to spank children to satisfy justice?
Dr. Whipple: Well, thats your own interpretation of what Paul taught,
but Ill have you know, theres nothing wrong with soldiers fighting for
God and country. A lot of fine young men from our church went over
to Viet Nam to fight Communism. I bet you hate the military.
Ghostwriter: In an imperfect world, the military has its place, but only
to defend their own nation from actual invasion or direct attack, not to
wage a war of aggression to control other countries and their natural
resources. Dr. Whipple, I know youre still stuck in the 70s, but did
you know McNamara just admitted the Viet Nam War was a big
mistake? How would you like your home to be napalmed? Even when
America got out of Viet Nam, the evil of that conflict didnt end. The
ripple effects of that war spread far and wide across time and space.
America never cleaned their chemicals out of the jungles or made
amends for all the unjust suffering inflicted by that war. Some of the
Vietnamese and Cambodian collateral damage suffered lifelong
physical disabilities caused by the poisoning of their foliage with Agent
Orange and Dioxin. Chemical weapon wizards and the warmongers
who controlled them knew these substances were extremely toxic to
humans but kept this info top secret. A lot of mothers gave birth to
children who suffered birth defects. Many of the lawmakers who
promoted that unjust war went to church. How is that walking in the
love of Christ, Who said, I came not to destroy mens lives, but to
save them? Do you seriously expect those so-called Communists to
listen to American missionaries after Americans bombed the hell out of
them and damaged their ecosystem for generations to come?
Dr. Whipple: We have zero contact with each other, but my former
ministerial colleague receives regular reports on my family from their
local bishop. Unlike the Catholic Church, theres no seal on the
confessional. Seems Blastus has been visiting a head shrinker instead
of coming home to me so I can cast the devil out of him. See how
grown children turn out when they reject the covering of a Christian
father?
Dr. Whipple: My Bible teaches that God gives His children a sound
mind which stays peaceful in the midst of a storm. My Bible teaches
that people only suffer mental breakdowns because they dont believe
Gods Word and walk in faith. If Gods in control of your life, you
shouldnt be making any mistakes on the job. God never planned for
His own children to be losers. Skill in confronting others about their
sins is a sure sign of Gods calling on your life. Unless you take Gods
Word seriously enough to do the hard, unpleasant part, its just as
meaningless to your life as a fairy tale.
Ghostwriter: There you go again, Dr. Whipple. You dont want pleasant
things for those who hurt you. You want God to clobber them with His
own Woody Woodshed. When you sin, dont you want God to treat
you with grace instead of punishing you? Why didnt you show grace
toward your own children before it was everlastingly too late?
Ghostwriter: I can see youre getting tired, Dr. Whipple, after such an
in-depth discussion. So Ill leave you to rest now, and drop by again
tomorrow, Lord willing.
When Maria answered the door, she nudged me out onto the front
porch and whispered, Careful what you say to him today, Ghostwriter.
Hes in a lousy mood. Hell be putting on his Poor pitiful me fast face.
But dont let him kid you. When I dug through his bedroom trash
today, I found three Snickers Bar wrappers. He should get an Oscar,
hes such a great actor.
Ghostwriter (whispering back): Ill just let him think I think hes
starving to death so hell feel better about himself. Shall we go into
the lions den now, Maria?
I picked up the most noxious vibes and I saw the disapproval on his
lined face. Yesterdays verbal boxing bout hadnt done much to build a
rapport between us.
Dr. Whipple (glancing at his watch): Oh, Ive felt better, but part of the
Christian life is suffering pain and hardship for Jesus. Nevertheless,
some inconveniences could be avoided if certain people would behave
with more consideration. Youre late as usual, eight minutes past the
hour to be precise. When will you learn, Ghostwriter, that other
peoples time is just as valuable as your own? I have Bible study
tonight and am on a tight schedule.
Dr. Whipple: Funny how every time you leave, I intend to get up to get
a glimpse of your helicopter, but I doze off on the couch or that dopey
dog gets in my way. But I did see a big flash of lightning after you
walked outside yesterday. It didnt even rain.
Dr. Whipple: From one of two sources, either God or the devil.
Sometimes satan likes to scare livestock with lightning, or start forest
fires for fun. It takes God forever to grow beautiful green forests, and
then the devil turns around and wrecks everything just to try to show
God whos boss. Other times, God strikes people dead with lightning,
and thats what almost happened to you. You should repent of all your
bad beliefs, Ghostwriter, or you might get zapped one of these days.
Dr. Whipple: So much for Hebrews 12, but you dont seem to like
Solomon much.
Dr. Whipple: I would just love to lock Sherwood up in the stocks and
expose him to public censure for running off with my wife. Now, that
would be something to see, folks throwing rotten tomatoes at him.
Ghostwriter: Apparently Willow went on with her own life, but you
never went on with yours.
Dr. Whipple: Oh, Ive kept busy enough. My life is just as orderly and
well-regulated as it was when I wrote Daddys Discipline.
Dr. Whipple: Indeed I did. Our family life was well-disciplined like an
army camp. I rose at five every morning and let the children sleep in
till 5:30 so I could have half an hour to pray and meditate on the
Bible. Willow prettied herself up while I did the more arduous task of
awakening my children.
Dr. Whipple: All of them would have loved to sleep in till seven, as I
allowed them to do on Saturdays. But Blastus was the hardest to
roust out of bed. One Sunday morning he decided hed rather attend
St. Mattress Bedside Chapel to get his sack religion. So I chased him
out of bed with a squirt gun. He was still half asleep and yelled a four-
letter word to show how cross he felt.
Ghostwriter: How horrible was that word?
Dr. Whipple: Ill give you a hint. It rhymes with ham, and its
something a beaver builds.
Ghostwriter: But that words in your own Bible, and Blastus was half-
asleep. In such a state, a persons inhibitions are lowered.
Dr. Whipple: And so were Blastus pajama pants. Ten doses of Woody
Woodshed on Blastus bare BVDs convinced him to suppress his
inhibitions, awake or asleep. After that, Blastus never dreamed of
uttering a dirty word in my presence.
Who knows what went on in that poor kids head when you werent
around to hit him for it? I thought.
Dr. Whipple: Im a firm believer in early rising. The Lord is far more
likely to listen to a prayer prayed at six a.m. than six p.m.
Ghostwriter: What about folks who work weird shifts, people like
nurses, air traffic controllers, policemen? What if they get home at
four a.m. after a twelve-hour shift and need their sleep?
Dr. Whipple: IF THEY LOVED JESUS theyd still get up by six to pray,
praise and worship Him. Hes worth it!
Dr. Whipple: The Lord wants to bring Christians to the place where
they can get by on four or five hours of sleep a day. Thats less of
your life wasted. Only selfish people care about ease and comfort.
Dr. Whipple: Spanky, who was about 13 at the time, shocked the socks
off us one morning after I told him he could pick any passage he
pleased and read it out loud to us, so we could apply it to our lives. He
thanked me for forcing him to go up to his room the day before to
clean out his brain with the Bible after peeking at his pals Playboy
magazine. He told us he wanted to share what hed learned. Here, Ive
got a Bible. I think I know where to find it. And after Im done
reading, youll agree with me that children are always full of surprises.
Starting With Genesis 19:30: And Lot went up out of Zoar, and dwelt
in the mountain, and his two daughters with him; for he feared to
dwell in Zoar: and he dwelt in a cave, he and his two daughters.
And the firstborn said unto the younger, Our father is old, and there is
not a man in the earth to come in unto us after the manner of all the
earth:
Come, let us make our father drink wine, and we will lie with him, that
we may preserve seed of our father.
And they made their father drink wine that night: and the firstborn
went in, and lay with her father; and he perceived not when she lay
down, nor when she arose.
And it came to pass on the morrow, that the firstborn said unto the
younger, Behold, I lay yesternight with my father: let us make him
drink wine this night also; and go thou in, and lie with him, that we
may preserve seed of our father.
And they made their father drink wine that night also: and the younger
arose, and lay with him; and he perceived not when she lay down, nor
when she arose.
Thus were both the daughters of Lot with child by their father.
Dr. Whipple: After compulsory Bible reading for most of his life,
Spanky understood King James language well enough to guess what
that old reprobate was up to. Spanky looked pleased with himself for
desecrating our familys quiet time with God. Willow wept out of sheer
mortification. But when I started unbuckling my belt, she reminded
me Id told Spanky that he could read anything he liked out of the
Bible. So I couldnt spank Spanky. I believe that was the one and only
time I felt honor-bound not to hit my kids. But after that incident,
every passage the children read in our family circle had to be pre-
approved by me, the priest of the family. Children need protection
from the Bible itself if they read it only for entertainment. A good way
to remember the role of the husband and father is 3 Ps: Priest,
Provider and Protector.
Ghostwriter: See what I mean? Some of the sexiest stories youll find
are in the Bible, no disrespect intended. Song of Solomon, though
theologians try to pass it off as an allegory of Christ and His Church, is
racy enough to entertain Hugh Hefner. Undoubtedly there are
passages in the Bible you cant spin a church doctrine out of. Although
that doesnt stop sinister ministers from preying on innocent lambs out
in the pews. Theres been a lot of sordid scandals the past decade or
so, especially in the old established churches.
Dr. Whipple: Lot was the victim of a conspiracy. His role in the affair
was a passive one, dont you think?
Ghostwriter: Anybody familiar with the facts of life knows it takes more
than male passivity to beget a bun in the oven.
Dr. Whipple: Our discussions on bun beating have been heated enough
without bickering over bun baking, which well reserve for another
discussion. But youll have to agree that Spankys devotional was
indelicate at that hour of the of day, and in mixed company!
Ghostwriter: Sometimes I think its safer for impressionable people to
focus mainly on the New Testament. Although, many of the Psalms
and parts of Isaiah do bring comfort to people undergoing problems.
Dr. Whipple: And as for Proverbs, its main function is to correct, not to
comfort.
Dr. Whipple: Well, it isnt all doom and gloom. The second part of that
verse promises the wealth of the sinner is laid up for the righteous.
Although I cant quite figure out why those poor persecuted Christians
didnt get much of it before they died in the arena. How could the
wealth of the wicked be up in heaven for Christians to get after they
die if such wealth would be tainted by the fact it was previously owned
by the wicked, and gotten by theft or fraud? Thats a mystery to me.
Ghostwriter: That verse you quoted has been the prosperity preachers
favorite slogan for the past 40-odd years. Preachers use it as bait to
get suckers to pay them for the wealth of the wicked. But instead of
the good guy getting rich off the bad guy, its the wicked preacher
who gets the wealth of the godly grandma on Social Security. So many
Christians have ended up broke after following the preachers ABCs of
Faith to persuade angels to shower them with money they didnt have
to work for. Unfortunately, Dr. Whipple, most rich crooks get to keep
their ill-gotten gains till the day they die and dont need it no more.
Ghostwriter: Eat and run, eh? Well, what about yourself? What was
your day like?
Dr. Whipple: Shed rise at 4:45 to exercise and ride her stationary
exercise bike for half an hour. Then shed shower, dress and fix herself
up to look pretty for me before cooking breakfast.
Ghostwriter: So poor Willow got less rest than anybody else. Before
you married her, did you make sure she was an early riser?
Dr. Whipple: I already knew she was. She grew up on a farm and had
to milk the cows every morning.
Dr. Whipple: Well, not everybody could afford to live it up like a king
instead of earning a living. All chiefs, no Indians, that sort of thing.
And if Solomon had made his wives crochet curtains to pay for their
own shopping sprees, all the other kings hed made marriage alliances
with would have unleashed Shock and Awe on their stingy son-in-law.
Dr. Whipple: Since the beginning of time, God has ordained the roles
played by both men and women, and never the twain shall meet. I
Timothy 5:14 commands wives to be keepers of the home and care for
the children. That is her ministry and hers alone. Unless, of course,
the wife is sick and bedridden, then she might need the mans help.
Ghostwriter: What I meant was, Dont you think Willows work was far
more tiring than what you did every day, especially since she
contributed to her own support?
Dr. Whipple: Apparently she didnt appreciate it enough, the way she
ran off with Sherwood. Oh, well.
Dr. Whipple: Yes, Saturday was the one day they were permitted to
indulge their carnal lust for fun and games. They could sleep in till
seven. Guess I was an old softie.
Ghostwriter: Why couldnt they have fun other days of the week too?
Dr. Whipple: God said Six days shalt thou work, one day shalt thou
rest, so Saturday was their fun day. Only on Saturday could they go to
ball games, play Old Maid or read their comic books. And if they
misbehaved earlier in the week, theyd lose their Saturday privileges.
Ghostwriter: So why did you restrict comic books and cards to only
one day per week?
Dr. Whipple: Same reason as God gave the Sabbath Day. Six days of
labor and one day of R & R. Those carnal kids seemed to need one
day per week to loaf to rest from chores and worthwhile activities.
What kind of a den of iniquity would my pure parsonage, a chapel of
worship, have become, if Batman and Wonder Woman had been
allowed to influence my children every single day of the week?
Ghostwriter: Well, you cant let old satan slip his toe in the front door
or he might let Lex Luther, the Joker, and Cat Woman in too. But can
you recall any incident where the kids broke the rules and enjoyed
themselves on some other day of the week?
Ghostwriter: Aside from his narrow escape from hell, how did Spanky
respond to this destruction of his personal property?
Dr. Whipple: He prayed for Jesus to forgive him for stealing away with
Superman on Sunday. He wore the facial expression I required for
repentance and kept a respectful tone, so I suspected nothing. I went
out the next day on ministry business, and Spanky got the last laugh.
Dr. Whipple: Our dog Comet was never allowed in the house
unsupervised because he was poorly trained and liked to chew things
up. I never did have the heart to get rid of that old fleabag because
he was a good watchdog. But that day, when I got back from doing my
business, I was about to enter my pastors study. The door to it was
open. That dumb dog walked toward me with chewed-up paper in his
mouth. The whole floor was littered with trash and shredded paper.
Somehow Comet had snuck inside. But when questioned, all the
children (my wife too!) swore they hadnt let the dog in my room, or
even in the house. The sermon Id been preparing for our next church
service had been magically transformed into dog chow.
Dr. Whipple: His eyes roved, at first. But he mastered such self-
control, his voice never even quivered and he looked me straight in the
eye as he said, No, sir, I know nothing about it. Without any tangible
evidence, I had to let him off the hook.
Speaking of Comet, he almost got shipped off to the dog pound after
one evil escapade. One evening Willow called from the kitchen that we
were out of hot dog buns, and wed need them for the church picnic
the following day. I thanked her for jogging my memory. Speaking of
buns, Spanky and I had a date down in the Inner Spanktum.
Dr. Whipple: Oh, I caught him taking my pants out of the laundry
hamper and fishing a quarter out of a pocket. He didnt see me watch
him do it, but he never mentioned it and never turned it over to me.
Dr. Whipple: Even though I could barely see, I still had to go in there
to see if some burglar might be casing the basement to steal our tools
or sporting goods.
Ghostwriter: Sounds horrible! Besides the facial injury, how bad did
you get hurt?
Dr. Whipple: Very funny. My time in the hospital was unholy hell.
Nobody ever feels pain till its their own, I thought. What goes around
comes around.
Dr. Whipple: I was in traction two whole months, during which time I
got a visit from the Sick and Shut-in Committee. Sister Harkus and
Sister Sharkey, came to comfort me with a word from the Lord.
Dr. Whipple: Oh, it gets even worse. Old Lady Harkus said they were
getting along just fine with the deputy pastor, Brother Lamb. But I
didnt like his style. Brother Lamb taught too much love and
understanding, and how children should be raised with tender
empathy instead of The Rod. Bah! That wimp made me want to puke.
Even the deacon was backslidden, Ghostwriter. He gave some kid
bubble gum on the church premises!
Ghostwriter: I was under the impression your favorite Bible hero said
in Proverbs 17:22 that a merry heart is a good medicine.
Dr. Whipple: Well, even the wisest of men screw up sometimes. But I
really suffered in that hospital. When Sister Sharkey said God was
grooming Bro. Lamb to take over my pulpit, I told her to go bite and
devour somebody else; and furthermore, Id hop out of that hospital
bed a lot sooner than she hoped, and take my pulpit back from the
greedy grasp of Brother Lamb, even if it killed me.
Dr. Whipple: Just as my latest dose of morphine was kicking in, I got
mad as a wet hen. I said this to those vicious vultures: Since youre
too foolish to pray compassionately with your own pastor, Ill call up
your bishop. But I was so groggy my tongue got tangled up.
Ghostwriter: You could have lost your job if youd treated those ladies
like your own children. Its a whole different ball game when you
chastise a child your own size.
Dr. Whipple: My own size? Both of those bats were big as a house.
Pain can make a fellow mighty cantankerous. I was in no mood for
getting salt rubbed in my wounds. Those two do-gooders rebuked me
for my bad attitude toward the trial, and warned me to be careful lest
some worse thing befall me. One of them threatened to ask God to
clout me with a cloudburst of crueler calamities.
Ghostwriter: All that physical and emotional pain should have made
you more sympathetic toward the sufferings of small children. If pain
can make a grown Christian crabby, and he excuses his attitude on
that basis, then why should a little child get a worse dose of pain when
he cries from the pain of a spanking?
Ghostwriter (movingly): Lets just say my heart goes out to you for
that freak accident, Dr. Whipple. Words cant describe what you must
have endured. You must have been petrified, scandalized, horrified,
mortified, terrified and traumatized. And speaking of fracturing your
funny bone, I dont know why they call it the funny bone, cause it
sure as heck aint funny when it gets hurt. You know the old saying,
bad stuff happens to good people, and bad Christians happen to good
Christians when the spit hits the fan.
Dr. Whipple: And it was all crazy Comets fault! That darned dog
booby-trapped my Inner Spanktum to sabotage my work for the Lord.
Or at least that was my opinion at the time. Comet was a jinx! Ill
never forget the day I went out to our flower garden for a breather
after correcting a couple of cans. As I stood contemplating the
majesty of Gods creation, some stray cat shot between my legs, and I
heard wild barking. Comet tackled me from behind, knocking me off
my feet. I lurched to try to avoid the fall, but I tripped and fell back
on a big fat barrel cactus. I couldnt sit down for a week.
Dr. Whipple: What hurt even worse was hearing the doctor laugh
when I went to the emergency room. He called me porcupine pants!
Dr. Whipple: You dont get it, do you Ghostwriter? The very nature of
punishment is its supposed to be a frightening, unpleasant ordeal, a
sneak preview of the hell those kids will go to if they dont mend their
ways. Prison is no rose garden, and neither should the Inner
Spanktum be a happy-looking place.
Ghostwriter: I had no idea Jesus told you to make a Baboon Cave out
of your basement, Dr. Whipple.
Ghostwriter: Baboon Cave. I guess you havent kept up with all the
news about the latest wars on territory. Baboon Cave was a notorious
POW hell hole in the Middle East where the ungodliest torture
chamber in history was run by sadistic soldiers. They raised hell like
Old Scratch on crack. Prisoners were held there free of charge and
subjected to unmentionable tortures, if you get my drift.
Dr. Whipple: Well, maybe poor John Wesley had to put up with
precocious punks who thought they knew more than their elders and
needed a good whack. But no kid on earth ever suffered more than I
did after that nightmare down in the Inner Spanktum. What hell satan
put me through. You can imagine, Ghostwriter, the freakout satan had
during my long recuperation. I laid helplessly on my bed with six
heating pads and Ben Gay ointment, moaning and groaning, while the
kids read their comic books every hour of every day and night. Or at
least, I suspect they must have done something that wicked, because I
never saw those little imps smile so much as those dark days when I
wasnt well enough to crack the whip. Willow did her best to control
the chaos, but she was out shopping or going to ladies meetings when
she wasnt up to her neck in cooking, chauffeuring, shopping,
housework, dirty dishes and laundry. She got so slothful she gave in
to satans temptation to send out for pizza instead of serving nutritious
homemade dinners. I told Willow if she really loved Jesus shed go the
extra mile and make me liver loaf with mushroom gravy.
Dr. Whipple: Because at the time, I didnt realize that as high priest
over my own home, I should have worn proper vestments and carried
sacred scented candles down to my Inner Spanktum, while intoning a
blessing over the spanking ritual, which would have scared the devil
away. I should have been chanting solemn intonations or playing
Gregorian Groans, to hallow the atmosphere instead of looking and
sounding like an ordinary Joe Six-Pack. I committed an abomination
when I held solemn spanking ceremonies in the middle of cat boxes
and car tires. So I vowed to the good Lord that Id consecrate a corner
of my basement to permanently serve as my Inner Spanktum, a
curtained-off sanctuary of holiness worthy to serve as a launching pad
for punitive prayers.
Ghostwriter: So you suspect God might have been ticked off at you for
the way you conducted your Punitive Priesthood rites.
Religion is satans sacred sanctuary and the cloak of all evil, I thought.
Who knows but he can get even more bizarre. There WILL be a full
moon out tonight.
Ghostwriter: Your life is fascinating, Dr. Whipple. But did Comet get
corrected for unleashing a landslide on you?
Dr. Whipple: The children shaped up when I threatened to revoke
Comets dog license and call the dog catcher to pick him up as a stray.
They promised to act like good little angels and stop reading their
comic books if I kept Comet. But what stopped me from making that
phone call was I realized God had used him to punish me for violating
proper priestly protocol. God used Balaams jackass to rebuke Balaam
for doing something stupid. And as Romans 13:4 teaches, Comet was
a minister of God to execute divine vengeance, so he was untouchable.
From that moment on, I held Comet in such reverence that I
redecorated his dog house and treated him to horse meat twice a
week. I even gave up my favorite chair whenever he came inside to
check on me. My wife thought I was acting a bit nuts. But I told her
Comet had saved me from continuing in a sin which might have
destroyed my soul.
Ghostwriter: Even if you believe you got busted for being out of
uniform, at least you took pity on that poor pooch. But speaking of
comic books, youd said earlier that you let Spanky off the hook
because there was no evidence hed let Comet into your study to chew
up your sermon notes. Do you sometimes lay awake at night and
wonder if Spanky just might have been guilty of plotting to get even
with you for destroying his comic collection?
Dr. Whipple: Im sure he must have been guilty, because I could detect
the faintest smirk on his face when he thought I wasnt looking. But
my Bible says Be sure your sin will find you out. A few days after that
particular incident, Spanky slipped at the skating rink and broke his
arm. While Spanky spent the next month recuperating, I got plenty of
opportunity to read bedtime stories to him about the terrible plagues
and punishments of the Old Testament. He got the message.
Dr. Whipple (with a glassy-eyed smile): I wonder why the ball bearing
on his left skate was warped. Those skates were brand new.
Dr. Whipple: Youre judging me. You arent supposed to judge anyone.
Ghostwriter: We all make judgments every day. If some used car
salesman offers you a good deal but he acts shifty, you need to judge
him or youll get ripped off. Trusting bad people can cost you.
Dr. Whipple: Ive grown in humility and submission toward God. Ive
learned never to question His ways. Ive learned that I should be
careful who I trust while loving all men. God never promised me a
picnic in this world. My cross has been a heavy one but the day will
come when Ill get to lay it down and live in a paradise free of pain and
perplexities. Ive had to incorporate my bitter trials into my theology,
and my lifes been one excruciating excursion through hell. I just hope
God appreciates the sacrifice Im making by suffering through this
long, slow fast. If my five children dont find their way back to God,
every spanking Ive ever inflicted will have done no eternal good and
their characters will be cemented in sin forever.
Dr. Whipple: Get thee behind me, satan! Its an honor to suffer for the
Lord. Speaking of honor, Ill have a surprise for you tomorrow.
Maria met me out on the porch and said, Glad to see you again,
Ghostwriter, youre early today.
Maria: Wait till you see who came to join your little powwow. Like
some coffee, tea, or something cold to drink?
I shook hands with one of the most massive men Id ever seen. Well
over six feet tall and almost as wide around the middle. A stern,
bespectacled man with a granite jaw and piercing eyes, he managed a
sour smile and nearly crushed my smaller hand before releasing it.
Ghostwriter: These days I dont have to hunt very hard. Its more like
heresy has a way of tracking me down to get me to write about it.
Bro. Bobcat pointed over at his two forbidding brutes. They stood
sentinel-like under the overhead catwalk, eying me suspiciously.
Festers Bodyguards, B.J. and J.B., The 2 Suits
Bro. Bobcat: If Jesus had hired bodyguards like these two, Judas Ass
Chariot woulda been way too scared to sell out to the CIA.
Ghostwriter (soberly): Judas would have taken the first donkey chariot
out of town, I suppose. Dr. Whipple, mind if I start this discussion by
asking your guest a couple questions?
Bro. Bobcat gave his grudging consent and said hed answer any
reasonable question, so long as I didnt pry too deep in his business.
Ghostwriter: Bro. Bobcat, you and Dr. Whipple seem to share similar
views on child rearing. Did your own father raise you under The Rod?
He stared daggers at me. After five eternal seconds I broke the leaden
silence.
Dr. Whipple (angrily): Ghostwriter, youve crossed the line and insulted
a guest under my own roof! I must ask you to leave now!
Bro. Bobcat: No, Dr. Whipple, nobody leaves yet! I aint a prissy china
doll. Ive learnt to take the heat in the kitchen! Ghostwriter, I went
through hell tryin to get that woman to git her figger back after she
had four kids in three years. I tried to put her on every diet under the
sun but she didnt love me enough to starve for me!
Dr. Whipple: So you think its a sin if a woman puts on a few pounds?
Bro. Bobcat: Absolutely! A few sermons ago I chewed out the chubby
ladies in my congregation. I told em any woman that gains weight
after she catches her man deserves to lose him.
Bro. Bobcat: If youll read your Bible, it talks about the Virtual Woman,
not the Virtual Man. Its her job to eat only what she burns off, sit up
late workin, git up with the chickens, pop out a passel of kids and burn
herself out for her man. The man dont have such a heavy burden
cause his sin in the Garden of Eden wasnt as bad, and thats the
reason why God said it would be the woman who desired a man, not
the other way around. So it follows she has to worry about makin him
want her. If the man gains fifty pounds, theres only more of him to
love. But a woman looks like a dump truck if she lets herself go.
Sugar sweats in the swimmin pool and starves at the table to keep
herself lookin good for her man.
Ghostwriter: Dr. Whipple, Id like to hear from you. Do you believe the
burden of keeping romantic love in the marriage alive is primarily the
womans responsibility?
Ghostwriter: What if a man was so desperate for cash to pay bills that
he commanded his wife to sell her own body on the street? Would God
require her to break one Biblical law to keep another?
Dr. Whipple: Abraham told Sarah to tell Pharaoh he was her brother,
not her husband. When Pharaoh thought Sarah was single, Abraham
let him take Sarah into his harem. It was up to her to trust God not to
let her be raped as a consequence of obeying her husband.
Ghostwriter: But the Bible also teaches: You shall not put the Lord
your God to the test. I doubt God approved of Abraham misleading
Pharaoh about Sarah being his wife, or Abraham standing idly by as
she was exposed to such danger.
Both men eagerly offered to help and asked me what was on my mind.
Bro. Bobcat: Its a Western Injun tribe, hard to track down. They hang
out somewhere in the cracks and crevices of the Rocky Mountains. I
got my last name from the Legend of Chief Barkin Bobcat. Barkin
Bobcat, my great-great-great-great-great-great and wonderful
granddaddy, he wasnt no Christian cause white guys hadnt brung
the Gospel to the wild West yet. But Barkin Bobcat did deliver his
village from left-wing Communist Comancheros from Californy by
drivin all the snakes out of town with fire water and spooky dancing.
Dr. Whipple: You need to keep correct context in mind to harmonize all
those verses. I believe what Paul was trying to say was, to please
earthly masters as if you were doing it unto the Lord. If a master told
a slave girl to work in a brothel, she could have asked herself whether
she could do it as unto the Lord, and of course the answer would be
no. Joseph did not literally do everything his mistress wanted and she
got mad enough about it to punish him. But Joseph couldnt defile his
masters wife as a service performed to the glory of God.
Ghostwriter: You have to hand it to Joseph for his courage. But any
way you slice it, the vulnerable slave girl would still have to break that
commandment to please her master in all things if she refused to do
something dirty, even if it was to keep her own conscience clean. Even
if she told her master her Christian faith wouldnt allow her to defile
her body because it was the Temple of the Holy Ghost, that master
might not give a flip. Hed still be displeased because his own carnal
lust was all that mattered. So the burden of feeling pleased must fall
on the subjective responses of the sinful master. Ive heard of
employees working their guts out around the clock, and their boss still
gripes about something. Not even God could please a boss who isnt
happy unless hes mad at somebody. And its mind-boggling that Paul,
a free Roman citizen, had the chutzpah to tell overworked, oppressed,
overburdened slaves to be content with their lot. Those pro-slavery
verses might have been more convincing if the Lord had used some
downtrodden ditch digger to write them instead of a highly educated,
free male.
Ghostwriter: I never said Paul had it easy, Bro. Bobcat, I just said he
never was a slave, so how could he know how it felt to be one? Paul
sent Onesimus back to his master, as that story is told in the Book of
Philemon. I believe Paul did this because Philemon, the mans master,
was a Christian, and Paul wanted to see if Philemon would exercise
Christian charity toward his runaway slave. Nevertheless, the
consequences of Pauls decision would fall directly on Onesimus, not
himself. Paul knew the Law of Moses better than you or me.
Deuteronomy 23:15 states that runaway slaves are not to be sent
back to their masters. Funny how so-called Christian slave owners of
the South appealed to Pauls epistles to justify the Fugitive Slave Law,
which compelled free Northern states to force fugitive slaves back into
slavery. But they conveniently ignored Deuteronomy 23:15.
Ghostwriter: And if they had, all those respectable white folks, and
their carloads of Confederate cash, wouldnt have shown up the
following Sunday. And maybe the preacher would have been lynched
or chastened by the holey church board. Most preachers preach only
what paying customers want to hear. Its got nothing to do with God.
Dr. Whipple: Im sure Southern slaves must have gotten an uplifting
message every now and then, from white gospel preachers.
Ghostwriter: Well, Brother Bobcat, I can read, and funny how so many
clashing scriptures are in the same chapter of the Bible. One verse in
Proverbs says Answer a fool according to his folly and another verse
in the same chapter says Answer not a fool according to his folly.
What kind of Biblical inerrancy is it when its up to you to decipher
mysterious meanings that supposedly make those contradictions
harmonize? Its like forcing a square piece of a jigsaw puzzle into a
round space. Repeatedly the Bible asks us to please God instead of
people. Then it commands slaves to please their masters in all things
and submit not just to good masters but nasty ones. Apparently its
left up to the ingenuity of individual believers to jump through
theological hoops so they can find some vague spiritual congruency
between conflicting verses which cancel each other out. Ive got a
fairly decent I.Q. But even I have to rack my brain to figure out ways
to make 2+2=5. Theres a lot of simple souls out there who wonder
why Paul backtracks a lot on what he teaches. Paul warns you that
circumcision puts you under Mosaic Law, then turns around and
circumcises Timothy so hell be socially acceptable to Jewish
Christians. That, despite Pauls claim in Galatians 2:5 that he didnt
cave in to the demands of the Judaisers for even one hour. By
circumcising Timothy, Paul acted against the verdict of the first church
council in Acts 15 where the apostles, and the Holy Ghost, did not
want Gentile believers to be circumcised and live under the Law of
Moses. It takes a genius to harmonize thou shalt not with thou shalt.
Were taught that no scripture is of any private interpretation, but
apparently its left to the subjective judgment of each believer to find
ways to harmonize all those conflicting commandments.
Dr. Whipple: Ive never heard such a shocking attack on scripture in all
my life! My Bible teaches submission to authority! End of story!
Ghostwriter: So theres no limits on proper submission to authority?
What if a husband has been unfaithful? Should a wife automatically
allow him back into her bed?
Ghostwriter: Yep, its about that time. But how are you feeling, Dr.
Whipple? Are you still on your slow fast?
Ghostwriter: So the Lord led you to break your fast today instead of
suffering for a whole month?
Dr. Whipple: Not that its any of your affair, but Brother Bobcat
believes the suffering of a month can be compressed into one hellish
week, and in my own case Ive found that to be very true. If God
doesnt find all my sacrificial suffering sufficient, I doubt any amount
of misery could persuade Him to answer my prayers.
Dr. Whipple: What do you take me for, Ghostwriter, an Esau who sells
my own precious soul for a bowl of crawdad bisque?
Bro. Bobcat: I would ask you to tag along to Bubbas, Ghostwriter, but
me and Dr. Whipple have got some personal matters to discuss.
Ghostwriter: Oh, dont mind me, gentlemen. Ive got other pastures
to ruminate in. Wouldnt have time anyhow.
Dr. Whipple: Oh, speaking of personal matters, Brother Bobcat, are
you still offering Willows book for sale on Way of the Woodshed? As
you know, Ive foresworn TV and cyberspace to keep my mind pure
and my soul uncorrupted. Not that its any reflection on your
contribution to modern-day media, of course.
Bro. Bobcat: She has to, to sell any books at all. You know her
husband Sherwood Fatwood is a lazy bum who inherited his daddys
dough and all he does is sit on his blessed assurance all the livelong
day and enjoy it. Never had the gumption to go out and make his
mark in this world. His only claim to fame was stealin your wife with
promises of an easy life. Just imagine: Get Skinny for Jesus by Willow
Fatwood. What kinda name is that for a bestseller fitness book?
Dr. Whipple (grudgingly): I should sue the Jezebel witch, but as long
as you pay me my cut for use of my ministry name, Ill grit my teeth
and go along with it. Yeah, she did have an easy life after Sherwood
struck it rich. So easy she turned a blind eye to his womanizing.
Never had to cook, wash, clean, or sew ever again. She could lay in
bed as long as she liked, had maids to wait on her hand and foot. I
bet she got fat and lazy after the disciplined life she led with me.
Dr. Whipple: Of course, its in that book shelf over there. Ill go fetch it
for you.
Bro. Bobcat: I saw Willow a couple of times, Dr. Whipple. Shes turned
into a big heifer over the past few years. Asked me if she could give a
talk on my program. Normally Id tell her what I really thought and
say she was way too fat to teach other women how to improve their
looks. But I make money off of her book so I cant get her mad at me.
So I just made up some excuse and said my program was booked solid
for the foreseeable future. But deep down, she understands.
The big guy shook my hand limply, mouth screwed up like a glowering
bulldog. He said it was highly unlikely our paths would cross again in
this world, and probably not even in the next. And, he said it was too
bad he couldnt extend me an invitation to his Inner Circle Banquet at
Chasens Restaurant, to be held in six weeks time.
Bro. Bobcat: Our primary rib and lobster thermometer feast is only for
faithful supporters of my ministry who donate a minimum of ten grand
a couple. No pesky kids allowed. Let em stay home and eat macaroni
and cheese! Humph!
Bro. Bobcat: The Bible has something to say about folks being shut out
of Jesus feast in heaven, how theyll never git to taste the fancy grub
the angels cooked for it. You wont git one single bite of our crepe
paper suzette or our depressed duck. So the jokes on you!
As I passed The Two Suits, I tried to avoid eye contact with them. I
felt their dagger-like stares behind my back.
I hope youre hungry today, Maria said as she met me out on the
porch. Theres a surprise waiting for you.
Dr. Whipple came out to greet me, his smile warmer than usual.
Dr. Whipple: Glad to see you one last time, Ghostwriter. Before we go
in the house, Id like to tell you about my latest brainstorm, which will
also be published by Redbutt Books, once I finish the final chapters. I
thought it was high time parents had a decent resource on hand to
take all the hassle out of teaching kids the birds and the bees.
Dr. Whipple: My book has to reflect real life, and sometimes things
dont stick to the script. The devil invades Teds bed and possesses his
head with fantasies of fudge brownies and jelly doughnuts. Tammys
nose is always buried in a book because Ted eats all day long, and
before long Teds taking up most of the bed anyway and she doesnt
want him to roll over on her, so she puts a sheet of plywood between
them to protect her ribs from being broken.
After futile assaults on satan with lacy garter belts, vibrators, whipped
cream, handcuffs, strobe lights and chocolate peignoirs, Ted says, To
heck with all this DIY bun-baking. Lets just pick up a cat at the dog
pound, Tammy. Anyhow, Id rather change a litter box than a dirty
diaper.
Amen to that, Tammy says, slipping back into her ratty old bathrobe.
Ghostwriter: My, you are full of surprises, Dr. Whipple. I didnt think
you had any sense of humor!
Dr. Whipple (dead serious): That wasnt the object of the story,
Ghostwriter. That book ends with Tammy and Ted toasting in hell for
their nutty nonconformity. My aim was to demonstrate the depths of
depravity some folks sink to by forsaking Gods perfect plan for the
family. Tammy looked like something the cat dragged in, so she turned
Ted off instead of punching out a passel of papooses to paddle. Ted
took the lazy way out and made love to Twinkies instead of baking
buns to beat with the Rod of Correction. So Teds ticker ODd on
obesity and he went to hell, where Mephistopheles melted him down to
cooking lard as punishment for forsaking his bed for the pleasures of
the palate. Instead of learning the fun-damentals of bun baking, and
cooking up a crowd of of kids to rear up in a church pew to learn how
to fear The Rod and catch hell on their hiney, Ted let some tom cat
beget a critter for him to rear in a cat box to learn how to correct rats.
Ghostwriter: Maybe poor Ted and Tammy both had to work three jobs
apiece and and were hardly ever home, so a pest-punishing pet was an
easier option. Still, you wimped out of the blockbuster romance bit.
Dr. Whipple: Nonsense, nobody knows more about baking buns than I
do. I would have had a houseful if Willow had been a warmer wife. If
shed submitted to me more, she would have spit those rug rats out
like a machine gun!
It was a long time before I could catch my breath as I howled hard and
clung to the porch post for support.
Dr. Whipple: Would you believe it, I did! But all those peanut butter
sandwich nights were a necessary evil, and I let Mercy, Grace, Fanny
Mae, Blastus and Spanky know that I, a holy minister of the Gospel,
acted like a wild animal so they could all exist. I told them they would
have been nothing but a loving thought in Daddys heart that
evaporated like a puff of smoke if I hadnt dragged my dead body
upstairs to do my bit instead of watching Flipper. Every day of their
lives they knew it took an act of beastly carnality to create them.
David said in Psalms, in sin did my mother conceive me.
Dr. Whipple: The action heats up in Chapter Four. My hats off to you
for your Christian caution.
Ghostwriter: Ahwhat ages are you writing this sizzling saga for?
Dr. Whipple (scratching his head): Give or take a few years, between
three and twenty-three. Any warm body thats spankable can glean
something out of it, surely. But I will say this. Evidently Sh..wood, I
mean, Sherwood, didnt need a refresher course on the birds and
bees. But speaking of leaving a bad taste in my mouth, Ive got a
treat for you in here, Ghostwriter. Come on in.
Dr. Whipple: I sense your apprehension, but rest assured, I didnt slip
any arsenic in the food. Just think of this as a peace offering.
Ghostwriter (taking a seat): I find that quite comforting. How did you
and Bro. Bobcat enjoy Bubbas yesterday?
Dr. Whipple: The love of Christ constrains me to live set apart unto
God. The Bible says Come out from among them and be ye separate
and touch not the unclean thing.
Dr. Whipple said nothing but his mouth twitched peculiarly and his
eyes twinkled at me. I could read his thoughts.
I wonder what he did to his kids when they sneaked a pea off their
plate, I mused.
Dr. Whipple read a prepared prayer: Our most gracious merciful loving
Heavenly Father, I thank you for the guest You sent to dine with me
today. We thank You for helping us navigate the deep, dark waters of
theological discourse for these past few days. Grant us the grace of
humility to learn from one another in a spirit of meekness, and to
discern whether any of our cherished beliefs have been erroneous,
however long they may have been held. Help all wandering sheep
everywhere to meekly repent of their contrariness toward You and of
their besetting sin which blinds them to the truth that Your Gospel is a
hard, rocky way of self-denying holiness, without which no one shall
see Your face once they depart this Vale of Tears. Help us to accept
that which is good and reject that which is evil, and open our eyes that
we may tell the difference without preconceived bias.
Thank You, most gracious Heavenly Father, for the precious memories
I have of loved ones who faithfully stood by me in trying times, though
such friends were so few in number. I ask You to deal wisely but
justly with those who once dwelled under my roof but fell by the
wayside. I ask You to use any means at Your disposal to stop their
descent into hell, for they are in deepest peril of losing their souls
forever, as Lots wife did when she looked back at the pleasures of sin
and turned into a pillar of salt. Take sleep from their eyes and peace
from their souls until they prostrate themselves before Your cross in
deepest penitence, ready to receive in meekness the many stripes You
mercifully lay upon them for rebellion and disobedience.
Lord, I make this next declaration out of love for two erring souls,
though theyre my enemies. In the presence of a skeptic who needs to
know You have chosen me to teach weaker souls the fundamentals of
divine discipline, I take this momentous step with all the gravity and
authority of an ordained clergyman of the gospel.
The apostle Paul taught us to follow his own example. Paul punished
the man who slept with his own stepmother by turning him over to
satan for the destruction of his filthy flesh. As a faithful minister of the
Gospel endued with Your authority to plant, pull up, build up and tear
down, I follow Pauls example by delivering Willow and Sherwood over
to Old Scratch for the destruction of their corrupt flesh. For I am fully
aware that You, O Lord, do not recognize their marriage as valid. You,
in Your infinite wisdom, joined me and Willow together as man and
wife many years ago, and it was her rebellion against my spiritual
covering under Christ, and her dirty lust for Sherwood, that brought
about this secular divorce and so-called remarriage. So from thy high
holy heavens, I beseech Thee to bear witness, along with all the saints
and angels in heaven, as I sorrowfully deliver Willow and Sherwood
over to those infernal tormentors appointed to execute Your fearful
judgments against apostate believers:
Satan, I, as a minister of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, hereby grant you
permission to torment and afflict Willow and Sherwood in any way you
see fit. Willow, like the stepmother who sinned with the man punished
by Paul, has bewitched and ensnared a younger man by wearing war
paint and spending the Lords money to do a major rehaul on her
saggy, wrinkly carcass to catch that impressionable young man who
must now be judged as an adulterer. She is a dirty old lady whose
hands are nets and snares. You have my permission to weaken Willow
with warts, hangnails, halitosis, hiccups, toenail fungus, love handles,
shingles, sniffles, dandruff, cellulite, and every other fearful plague.
But dont bump her off just yet. I want her to live so shell come
crawling back to her lord and master on her scabby hands and knees
begging like a dog for forgiveness. As for Sherwood, that despicable
dirt bag, Im too polite to say what I want you to do to him in front of
my honored dinner guest. You get my drift. Sick em, satan!
Dr. Whipple: Ill begin by saying, that one reason I dont go out in
public much is I dont like strangers crowding around begging for
autographs and complimentary copies of my books. Im just being
frank, not boastful. Before we went in, Bro. Bobcats Two Suits
checked the place out for security and asked the manager to let two
celebrity preachers enter through the back door, and could we dine in
the VIP Parlor although Bro. Bobcat had forgotten to reserve it for our
party? The manager was familiar with Brother Bobcats TV ministry.
But hed never heard of me. Perhaps I need to get back in the public
eye, for the sake of my work, of course.
Dr. Whipple: The manager apologized that their VIP Parlor was hosting
a wedding reception. But he did set up a special table for The Two
Suits, right next to an elegant enclosed booth which was shielded from
curiosity seekers. Bro. Bobcat slipped on a cowboy hat and sunglasses,
so we managed to enter it without being recognized. Until satan
sabotaged our picnic, we enjoyed a nice undisturbed meal.
Dr. Whipple: I overheard a loud ruckus and peeked out of our booth.
Several yards away, a family with small children were being served.
Seems like the two youngest didnt feel like eating. They preferred to
fiddle with their food and throw it around the dining room. The older
kids used cuss words and stuck their dirty tongues out at their
parents. The mother threatened to banish those ruffians to the car
while they ate. She was close to tears. As I sat there listening to their
poor dad plead with the children to behave and the mother snapping at
the kids, it dawned on me that it could have been divinely appointed
for me to dine at Bubbas that very afternoon. I just happened to have
with me a copy of Daddys Discipline which Bro. Bobcat and I were
discussing, as it was sort of a business dinner, during which time he
was going to suggest appropriate revisions for the book to make it
more relevant for the typical 21st-century family home.
Mustering all my courage, I approached the other table, book in hand.
I smiled and introduced myself to the father of the family, telling him
Id written a Christian discipline book back in the 70s, and suggesting
it might be helpful if he accepted a complimentary copy.
Who the hell are you? he asked. I already donated to the Moonies at
work to pay for their free books.
I reassured him I definitely wasnt a Moonie, and all I wanted was to
share Gods solutions for tough problems. I offered free Flying
Spankster comics to all the kids, but the man told me to, and I quote,
butt out of his business.
Dr. Whipple: His kids were so hardened in sin they giggled when they
heard that. But I told the guy he and his wife were abusing those poor
children by snapping at them, and true child discipline is an
occurrence, not a wishy-washy head trip. I told him about My Woody
Woodshed Digital Discipline System and how effective it had been
with my own family.
Dr. Whipple: Admittedly, that extra treat did take some of the sting out
of the persecution I experienced yesterday. The good Lord knows how
to compensate His own for unjust sufferings in this world. Oh, by the
way, the manager paid the The Two Suits five peanut butter pies for
scaring dope peddlers off the premises. They gave me one. Want
some?
Dr. Whipple: Still, the Bible exhorts Gods people to endure hardship,
and to buffet their own bodies. Unless you stop pandering to your
sinful appetite, you cannot walk the Way of the Cross to gain the
crown in Gods Kingdom. My conscience is eating at me for all the
times I went to all-you-can-eat buffets instead of buffeting that old
carnal appetite.
Ghostwriter (choking down a bite): I doubt you often leave his house
to eat out, and unless Maria fixed a big spread for you, you wouldnt
pig out all that much.
Dr. Whipple: Usually, I have her prepare bran flakes for breakfast, fruit
salad for lunch, and grilled chicken with steamed vegetables for dinner.
Except for special occasions, I pass on dessert. Sounds like a lot, but I
also fast twice a week to keep my body under subjection.
Dr. Whipple: Im sure she must have known that. My conjecture is,
the little gold digger wrote that Get Skinny for Jesus diet book to reel
the sucker in. That book sold like hotcakes. Book royalties paid for
plastic surgery, full body liposuction, a fitness trainer, tummy tucks,
facelifts for her turkey neck and eye pouches, posterior implants, laser
zapping for cellulite and spider veins, professional hair treatments,
cosmetic dentistry. By the time Willow decided shed had enough,
shed lost forty pounds and forty years off her appearance, and her
skin was taut as a drum. But she wasnt going through all that torture
for me! Her hiney enhancers werent inserted for me!
Dr. Whipple: Well, its different with a man. The woman was made for
the man, not the other way around. All I know is, after spending a
huge fortune on all those beauty treatments, Willows own kids didnt
know her. Only a trained detective could have told any difference
between her and a teenage hooker. Before she dumped me, I did see
Willow as beautiful. After that, I wondered why Id stayed with her so
long and remembered how repulsive some of her features were.
Ghostwriter: Very few escape the ravages of time. But did it ever
occur to Willow it might be a bit selfish to spend all her royalties on
herself instead of you and the children?
Dr. Whipple: The way Willow saw it, it was her book and her money to
do with as she wished. Id told her the reason my bank account didnt
have her name on it. I was the provider and priest of our family, and
monetary concerns were strictly my bailiwick. She only wrote that
book so she could earn her own money and fly the coop with our kids.
Dr. Whipple: In her own personal account, which she controlled, since
her publisher insisted on writing her name on the checks. That was the
first rift in our relationship, and it all slid downhill from there.
Ghostwriter: You said Willow went to pieces after you spanked her car
for acting up. Before that incident, did her family suspect there was
any strain on your marriage, or wonder why she was so obsessed with
altering her appearance?
Dr. Whipple: Her family claimed to be Christians, but they were far
more liberal in their ways than what we were used to. Whenever
theyd visit, Willows family, especially her reprobate brothers, dropped
hints that she might be being brainwashed, and urged her to be true to
herself. I listened in on conversations through phone extensions in our
home. Willows family was concerned about her mental health and the
physical safety of our children. They may have thought she was
desperately trying to catch a new man to take care of her and my kids.
Dr. Whipple: Plenty of times. But only because I sensed Willow wasnt
being up front with me about our relationship, and I needed to know
how she represented me to other people behind my back. The last few
months of our marriage, she had been humiliating me constantly at
church by walking provocatively to flaunt her figure, and gradually
tightening and shortening her outfits till little was left to the
imagination. Her relatives, who were nominal churchgoers, called me
a religious nut for exercising my headship over her.
Ghostwriter: Was there any particular crisis point in your marriage that
gave you reason to suspect Willow might be getting itchy feet?
Dr. Whipple: The most painful moment of our marriage was when I
found her birth control pills in the bathroom. Willow had actually
consulted a gynecologist without my consent! The Bible teaches that
the wifes body belongs to the husband and he has full rights over it. I
reminded her she was one flesh with me, and thus belonged to me, so
any decision concerning her body was my affair as well. Furthermore, I
told her she did not have my permission to prevent pregnancy.
Dr. Whipple: That was very mean of you to say that, Ghostwriter.
Every trouble or trial any member of my family has ever suffered, I
suffered along with them.
Ghostwriter: Did you feel the suffering you inflicted on your own kids?
Did you also feel their bodies belonged to you to do with as you
pleased? A lot of parents reason that since they brought their child
into the world, and they feed, clothe, and keep a roof over it to
maintain its life, that child is their personal property and theyve got
the right to beat that individual like an abused slave.
Dr. Whipple: But Willow did have a voice. She could have said amen
to my earnest efforts to correct the sinful souls of our children. But in
the end, she chose to follow an adulterer down the path to perdition.
Ghostwriter: That trial must have been extremely difficult for you.
What was it like when you parted from one another after the verdict?
Dr. Whipple: The torments of the damned! When we all left the
courtroom to go our separate ways, Willow turned a blind eye when
Blastus gave me a Bronx cheer and Mercy mooned me.
Ghostwriter: Shocking!
Dr. Whipple: You and your silly sarcasm and bitter reBUTTals! Before
Spanky hung up on me, he told me I was a pain in the you-know-
what.
Dr. Whipple: Close enough. But how could that kid badmouth me like
that! After all those years I blessed him!
Ghostwriter: So there have been times in your life and ministry when
you felt God Himself was far away from you instead of supporting you
when you faced opposition.
Dr. Whipple: Just call me a modern-day Job. Job had nasty boils all
over his body. My own boils have been emotional. Do you realize how
emasculating it is for a Christian man when his own wife wont
acknowledge his headship over her, when she wont admit her very
body belongs exclusively to him? Willow made me feel like a wimp who
couldnt even control what went on under my own roof. Willow defiled
her own body by using birth control without my consent. She changed
her looks to please some other man, to get him to lust after her so he
would give her an easy life, free of all disciplinary restraint.
Ghostwriter: So you suspect Willow was a gold digger, and thats why
she got skinny for Jesus and went through hell to look hot for him?
Dr. Whipple: No romance was ever sweeter than ours. Ill never forget
our favorite courtship song. Shine On, Shine On Harvest Moon.
Ghostwriter: Since this is our final session, and weve gotten better
acquainted, Im going out on a limb now. That is, if you think youre
man enough to answer this without throwing up defenses. Keep in
mind were both adults here. Based on the spiritual enrichment you
seem to have gained down in your Inner Spanktum, I must lay a
nagging question in my mind to rest and only you can help by being
absolutely truthful, even if you must bare your soul to do it.
Dr. Whipple: Im tough as nails. After all the hell satans put me
through in this sad Vale of Tears, Im not scared of a little question.
Ghostwriter: During your married life, was the physical side of your
relationship satisfactory most of the time?
Dr. Whipple: I certainly didnt need Viagra. Five nights of romance per
week were plenty for Willow, but I wanted more. Thats why we didnt
churn out more children. But the birth control pills she gobbled behind
my back didnt help much either. Willow lost her teenage figure after
five kids, so I fantasized about firmer fannies. A fantasy I never
indulged, of course, since I dont want to go to hell for adultery. I
didnt even enjoy sneaking up on her from behind with a swift love-tap
like I used to. Frankly, it was like punching the Pillsbury Doughboy.
Ghostwriter: Any idiot with half a brain cell knows you used religion as
an excuse to torture confessions out of kids in your own Gitmo torture
chamber downstairs! Like the Grand Inquisitor, you forced your kids to
confess sins to Almighty God even when they were innocent, under
threat of further beatings! You broke your childrens will with Woody
Woodshed to turn them into jittery jelly bellies you could dominate till
the day you died! Break their brains for the glory of God! Break your
son like a wild horse! Turn him into a shriveled-up gelding who will
never be able to be a leader of other men or take charge of his own
destiny. Turn your daughters into depressed pill poppers for the glory
of your god of fear. Even Hitler appealed to Martin Luther to justify his
crimes! You used Gods name to make you feel like a mighty macho
man! Your Inner Spanktum was no holier than a whorehouse!
Ghostwriter: Then why dont you exorcise satan out of your own rump
roast? If youre a sicko fanny junkie with a flagellation fetish, how dare
you appeal to Almighty God to bless your bun fun? Yeah, turn kids to a
grease spot for the glory of god! You had all the fun without the guilt,
cause you blamed it all on the Bible! You said the rites of your Inner
Spanktum transformed spanking into a holy sacrament. But all that
theatrical theological foreplay only enhanced your sadistic gratification
when The Rod hit tender young flesh.
Ghostwriter: Yeah, satan makes a convenient fall guy for your fanny
fantasies! Bible-bashing bullies have always appealed to God and the
Bible to sanctify all the perversion, war, cruelty, slavery and misery on
this planet, and youre no exception to the rule! Whats worse, you
made big money peddling this abusive religious crap to cruel cretins
like yourself! You didnt walk the Way of the Cross, you walked The
Way of the Club, and youll have to answer to the real God for it when
you go get your eternal reward! As Simon Peter said, take your filthy
money to hell with you!
Dr. Whipple (to the hound dozing at his feet): Sick em, Roscoe!
The old pooch yawned, batted one eyelid and rolled over lazily to catch
a few rays of golden sunlight filtering in through the window. A fly
flitted on his nose. He snapped at it and laid his head back down. I fed
the dog a cookie from the tea tray and petted him. He licked my
hand. Sugar catches more flies than vinegar.
Dr. Whipple: I said Sick em, Roscoe! Do you hear me, boy?
I left the morose old minister moping in the disciplinary darkness hed
designed for himself.
The End