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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.

Dr. Whipple: I firmly believe suffering sanctifies a Christian, but Ive


been through the tortures of the damned. As the legendary
Ghostwriter sat in MY favorite recliner petting MY angora cat, sipping
MY ice water and picking my tired old brain with loaded questions, I
felt like I was being tried at the Spanish Inquisition. Persecution is
alive and well not only in THE BIBLE BELT, but way up here in my
northern hideaway. Very, very reluctantly I subjected myself to this
interrogation so skeptics can get to the bottom of why their own hearts
are so corrupt they oppose Biblical child rearing. By the time you finish
this book, youll not only feel spiritually refreshed, youll feel so sorry
for me youll order my punitive priestly products, which currently are
available ONLY in the Dream Dimension.

If you arent too chicken, take a Ghostwriter journey into every


Christian childs theological nightmare.

******
Session One

Weird Wednesday

Our first interview was conducted on Wednesday, August 12, 2015, 2


p.m., at Dr. Whipples summer residence near Butte, Montana. All
interviews were secretly recorded by spy bugs, in order to provide
source material for this book.

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!

I stood transfixed by the massive family portrait which dominated one


wall. Two crew-cut boys trussed up in blue suits smiled shyly, with
averted eyes, clearly ill at ease. The main focal point of the picture, a
much younger Dr. Whipple, towered over the rest, his brows knit in a
vinegary smile, powerfully built in a conservative suit, hands spread
protectively on adjoining shoulders. Below him sat a weary woman
with wan, lined face and dark circles under her doleful eyes. A blond
girl in pigtails and checkered dress solemnly sat holding twin toddlers.
The sinister picture spoke volumes.
Massive oaken shelves abounded with old tomes and paperbacks. But
I noticed no TV of any kind, just an antique Apple Mac system next to
musty piles of perforated printouts. Dr. Whipples stereo system must
have been half a century old. A music rack bulged with dusty
cassettes. Cheesy Jesus Revolution posters hung alongside flowery
tapestries stitched with scriptural adages. An antique spinning wheel
was adorned with housewifely admonitions from Proverbs 31.

The flickering flames of the imposing Victorian fireplace sent ominous


shadows dancing on the rustic walls, and chills up my spine. I already
felt fidgety as a chicken in a fox house, when any remaining doubts
were quashed by the monstrosity mounted above the fireplace mantel:
A gigantic paddle, long enough to steer a canoe, strategically studded
with holes. Beneath was an intricately wrought tapestry, with Dr.
Whipples memorable ministry motto:

As my melancholy spirits were further depressed by a weepy hymn


wafting from a scratchy vinyl record, the grimly smiling Christian guru
himself finally emerged through the door leading to his adjacent prayer
room/study. He shook my hand and eyed me quizzically, mumbling
under his breath about lefties. We introduced ourselves. He asked me
to be seated. When I broke the ice by saying the fierce heat had left
me feeling parched, Maria fetched a glass of ice water.
Ghostwriter: First off, Id like to thank you for inviting me to your
home today. It is a rare privilege to meet a man of your professional
caliber, Dr. Whipple.

Dr. Whipple: The feelings mutual. I hope you had a pleasant trip.

Ghostwriter (grinning): I sure did.

Dr. Whipple: Hot day. Did you find a shady spot to park your car?

Ghostwriter: Im a city dweller who gets around without driving.

Dr. Whipple: Then howd you get all the way out here?

Ghostwriter: The Ghostship brought me.

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.

Ghostwriter: If thats what you think, youre entitled to your opinion.

Dr. Whipple: Bet you feel like youre way out in the sticks.

Ghostwriter: I must confess, this is one of the remotest locations Ive


ever visited. So you prefer the big sky country to the big city?

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.

For an eternal moment Dr. Whipple stared at me, flashing a Pharisee


smile. Apparently he doubted Id made reservations there.

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.

Ghostwriter: Riders? So you have visitors, perhaps grandchildren, who


come here and ride them?

Dr. Whipple (crestfallen): I dont see much of my grandchildren, or


even my children. Ever. My witchy wife betrayed me after she left
me, poisoned the childrens minds against me.

I never saw such a sad face. For one fleeting moment I pitied him.

Ghostwriter: Before we proceed further, Id like you to sign this


contract. Take a moment to go over it if you wish. Essentially it
grants me literary freedom to use material from our forthcoming
conversations in our book project The Punitive Paternal Priesthood. As
you can see, Ive brought with me a notepad to take short notes on
key points covered during our interviews. I have a sharp memory and
objective mind, but this agreement absolves me of all liability in case
minor flaws are found in the book after its released.

Dr. Whipple: At this point in my career, even bad publicity would be


better than no publicity at all. So yes, Ill sign it.

Ghostwriter (depositing the document in a briefcase): Thank you very


much, Dr. Whipple. Now thats out of the way, care to talk more about
the sad day your family split up and the spiritual cause behind it?

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.

Ghostwriter: Unbelievable, never heard of such a thing! What specific


allegations were presented to the court?

Dr. Whipple: The most sensational one was Id used Spanky as a


guinea pig to perfect the prototypes of my patented Woody
Woodshed Digital Discipline system. It was alleged that I spanked
him on some trumped-up charge so I could try out the gauge on my
Misery Monitor. The Misery Monitor accurately measures the intensity
and spiritual significance of escalating gradations of pain intensity.

Ghostwriter: So pain makes a kid more spiritual, eh?

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: I never, ever tortured anyone. I only inflicted discipline


on my childrens seats so Jesus could save their souls. Better to suffer
here on earth than down in a devils hell.
Ghostwriter (grimly): That was the rationale behind the Inquisition.
Bloody Mary burnt martyrs at the stake to strike fear into her subjects,
so they would be good Catholics and not burn in even worse fires down
in hell. So whats the difference? No sense arguing the point, so what
other alleged abuse was presented before the judge?

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.

Ghostwriter: Any way you served it up, that punishment would be


humiliating, but were those pinto beans cooked or dried?

Dr. Whipple (with a peppery grin): Ill leave that to your


imagination...or rather, to Willows. But that she-devil fabricated false
evidence to falsely incriminate me and bear false witness against me.
She presented airbrushed photos of alleged injuries to the unjust
judge, probably doctored up with her eye shadow. My wifes family
bribed Blastus head shrinker to swear that Id emotionally
emasculated his mentality for life. Talk about the boils of Job,
Ghostwriter. I suffered through the bitterest kangaroo court divorce in
human history, and I never found another woman worthy enough to
start a new family with. Ever since then, time has stood still for me.

Ghostwriter (poker-faced): Sounds like youve been through hell and


have a lot of personal issues to sort through. But for now, mind if we
delve a little deeper? Im already fascinated.

Dr. Whipple: Sure. Fire away.

Ghostwriter: Youre the author of Daddys Discipline which was a best


seller way back in the 70s especially.
Dr. Whipple: Yes, indeed. Daddys Discipline is the crowning
achievement of my lifetime.

Ghostwriter: So how are sales now?

Dr. Whipple (frowning): Abysmal. This generation is going to hell in a


bushel basket. The Bible warns of a great falling away from the faith
in the latter days. Professing Christians have lost all awareness of the
holiness of God, so they could care less about correcting their children.
Theyre so obsessed with earning money, they have little time and
energy left to learn the deeper truths of the Word of God, and even
less time to train up their own children in the paths of holiness.

Ghostwriter: And since then youve developed your patented Woody


Woodshed Digital Discipline System to help harried parents cope with
their childrens misbehavior. Any feedback on this product range,
either positive or negative?
Dr. Whipple (wistfully): Sales soared when I first introduced my Woody
Woodshed products. But business has tapered off, despite the fact
Ive demonstrated that the Woody Woodshed Digital Paddle also
makes a terrific meat tenderizer. I made a magnificent crock pot rump
roast with it for one Sunday dinner. My children went wild over it.

Ghostwriter: Was rump roast one of your favorite Sunday meals?

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.

Ghostwriter: Evidently youve weathered many hard times, so you


were crestfallen when sales fell.

Dr. Whipple: If I could sink more money into advertising, perhaps


theyd pick up again. People are so spoiled these days they go out to
McDonalds after church instead of slaving in the kitchen, so they dont
need the meat tenderizer. Also, modern parents have no appetite for
tenderizing their childrens rumps with the rod, as the Bible
commands. Todays typical dad would rather be a good buddy with his
son than a dutiful disciplinarian. So they let their kids run wild. I tell
you, Ghostwriter, thered be far less juvenile delinquency in society if
modern fathers followed my patented punitive system, which combines
the power of prayer with the power of the paddle.

Ghostwriter: If this isnt too painful a subject to broach, Id like to


know more about your own kids. Have any photos of them?

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.

Dr. Whipple: Wouldnt do any good even if I did. At least some of my


kids are reportedly so unhinged they change their name like I change
my shirts. Theyre so scared I might track them down, they move
every few months, I heard from reliable sources.
Ghostwriter: A sad, sad situation. But could you please tell our
readers the names of your children, and about how old were they
when you wrote Daddys Discipline?

Dr. Whipple: My oldest son Spanky wasahfifteen when I began work


on that particular project.

Ghostwriter: Whyd you call him Spanky?

Dr. Whipple: My wifes sister married a Greek, so we named our first


son after his Uncle Spankanopolous, a great guy. Naturally it was
more convenient to use a nickname. Besides, Spanky needed to be
reminded of what would befall his butt if he disobeyed me. This planet
is one great big rowdy RUMP-us room where God whips the devil out
of sinful believers, so theyd better mind their Ps and Qs.

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.

Ghostwriter: I hope you prayed God would be more merciful toward


you than you were with him.

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.

Ghostwriter: Rearview Christian Academy?

Dr. Whipple: In case your thoughts are drifting downstream, they


named the school Rearview because the campus football field
overlooked a big cow pasture.

Ghostwriter (sheepishly): Oh! Thanks for educating me on that point.

Dr. Whipple: We couldnt have found a more excellent nurturing


environment for tiny disciples in need of discipline, Ghostwriter.
Rearviews staff firmly believed in Holy Inhibitor Teaching, HIT for
short. Theyd make the little monkeys work at maximum efficiency in
their own private walled-off booths so they couldnt see any
distractions. The childrens carnal desire to socialize during work hours
would be inhibited with strong exhortations to holy diligence and
threats of The Rod. Sort of like a mule would wear blinders and get
lashed to keep his eye on the road and off the tempting berry bush.
Ghostwriter: I seriously doubt Jesus would force a small child to sit all
day staring at the walls of a booth. Enforced sensory deprivation and
isolation do not contribute to a well-rounded education, and could
stunt intellectual development, even in bright kids. The type of
education you describe could help cause claustrophobia and social
anxiety.

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.

Ghostwriter: Zechariah 8:5 says that the streets of Jerusalem shall be


full of boys and girls playing in the streets, not imprisoned in a booth
where they cant interact with other children.

Dr. Whipple: Rearview Christian Academy has always been in the


business of preparing kids for the real world of adults, where they
expect to sit in their cubicles all day long typing and filling out reports.
Thats why Rearviews pupils are trussed up in suits and ties every day,
to prepare them for the no-nonsense business world.

Ghostwriter: But why waste childhood practicing for the worrywart


world of the workplace? Kids grow up so fast, and all the headache
and misery of slaving all day and fretting over bills comes soon
enough. Let children enjoy five golden moments lying on their back in
the grass, staring up at fluffy clouds and daydreaming of butterflies.

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.

Ghostwriter: Jesus seems to have thought that children were complete


and beautiful little beings even in their immature state. He enjoyed
them as tiny friends who spoke simple, sincere words and
unselfconsciously smiled big smiles. Jesus wasnt worried that they
werent grown-ups yet, fretting about jobs and dozens of church
activities. He said, Let the little children come unto Me, for of such is
the Kingdom of God.

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.

Ghostwriter (laughing bitterly): Getting to hit kids was a fringe benefit


of working at Rearview Christian Academy, I suppose.

Dr. Whipple: Sometimes it was necessary. People have some nutty


notion that Christian schools are havens of holiness where kids dont
misbehave like those in secular schools.

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?

Ghostwriter: Tell me. Im all rI mean, ears!

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.

Ghostwriter: With a wooden board, I suppose. What else went on at


the school pageant?
Dr. Whipple: One booth was called the Smorgas-BOARD. Lets see if I
can recall what was served. Stuff like baloney, weenies, deviled ham,
deviled eggs, potato salad, potato chips, angel food cake and pound
cake. All those goodies were spread out on a big boat paddle, with all
you could eat for a five dollar donation.
As I recall, the principal drew names to pick five volunteers for the
main event, a big Spank-a-thon. Spanky got chosen first, and he took
it like a man. Each lick with a flyswatter was worth one buck. Each
lick with a yardstick, three. But you had to pay five bucks a lick to hit
his hiney with a paddle.

Ghostwriter: Thats child abuse!

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.

Ghostwriter: Did anybody demand a refund?

Dr. Whipple: Several did, but I told em nobody said he couldnt wear
falsies.

Ghostwriter: Now Ive heard it all! Recreational Spanking 101! What


was the worst actual mischief that ever happened at Rearview?

Dr. Whipple (blushing): I shouldnt sayIts not very polite

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.

Ghostwriter: So what happened to Samson?


Dr. Whipple: Spankys friends heard the whole story from roughneck
street punks who helped Samson change his appearance before the
cops arrived at his home to question him. He whined to his dad about
how the teacher and principal tried to hit on him, and hed only done a
judo flip to protect himself. Samsons dad believed him because hed
been beaten up and he looked scared. Samsons school uniform was
ripped to shreds, and his face was swollen and bruised. When faced
with false allegations which could send the schools angelic reputation
down the toilet, the school grudgingly dropped their own charges
against Samson. He did the same, though he got expelled. Samson
never got to go to Christian school ever again.

Ghostwriter (laconically): Poor kid! Do you think Samsons on his way


to hell?

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!

Ghostwriter: How could Superman seduce Spanky away from Samson


if you, and those overzealous teachers, had already beaten the fear of
god into his gluteous maximus?

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.

Ghostwriter (struggling to keep a straight face): So you really believe


satan can possess a paddle?

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.

Ghostwriter (faking a cough to stifle a laugh): Sorry, my throats been


itchy since I gave that speech yesterday.

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?

Ghostwriter: Same difference. Torture is torture, even when Christians


hallow it with hallelujahs. And heres one pertinent point: You insist
children need to take their medicine when they misbehave, or didnt
you state that in your book?

Dr. Whipple: I most certainly did! The Rod is Gods ONLY divinely
sanctioned remedy for juvenile misbehavior!

Ghostwriter: Dr. Whipple, when you buy prescription medicine, or even


a humble little pack of aspirin, dont you notice a little note in the box
warning you not to take that medicine recklessly or it could kill you?

Dr. Whipple: Say what? What are you driving at?


Ghostwriter: You just said the legs, back or shoulders might be an
acceptable alternative for correcting a kids caboose.

Dr. Whipple: So?

Ghostwriter: When you mass-produced your Woody Woodshed


paddles, did you include a cautionary note in the box warning parents
not to use Woody Woodshed on a skinny leg or a scrawny back? In
other words, to warn parents to confine their use to well-padded
posteriors to prevent bone breakage? Years ago scientists discovered
that spanking breaks small blood vessels. So it follows that much
worse damage is done when the spanking is severe or prolonged.

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!

Ghostwriter: Never ASS-ume anything! Judas Iscariot was an apostle


and above suspicion. Christopher Columbus allegedly came over here
to convert the Indians to Christ, then enslaved and killed a lot of them.

Dr. Whipple: Youre comparing apples with oranges. Columbus was a


Catholic, not one of us.
Ghostwriter: I didnt come here to debate denominations. And I was
gonna ask you. You mentioned having problems with Spankys
misbehavior. Does any particular incident stand out in your memory?

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.

Ghostwriter: I dont know whether to laugh or cry myself. You have a


penchant for casting bizarre events in a humorous light. So the
preachers kid raised a little hell in front of the Hells Angels to prove
he was a normal teenager, not some Little Lord Fauntleroy. What were
your other kids names? Youre Americas holiest family expert, so Ill
be asking plenty of questions about yours.

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.

Ghostwriter (coughing): What? Why did you suspect Lucifer might be


lurking in her accelerator?

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.

Ghostwriter: Why did Willow drive on a snowy road at night? Why


didnt you go instead?

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.

Ghostwriter: Well reserve that discussion for a future session. But


what could have been more important than looking after your own
wifes safety on a cold, snowy night?

Dr. Whipple: The Bible teaches us to serve God without petty


distractions. I was busy preparing my fasting message, so it would
have been a major distraction to wander through a wonderland of
Twinkies and taco chips. Spiritual matters are far weighter in the sight
of God than earthly concerns.

Ghostwriter: Id say Twinkies add more weight than fasting messages.


But werent you at all concerned about Willow driving in a blizzard?

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.

Ghostwriter (tongue-in-cheek) Sometimes people misconstrue other


peoples motives, dont they? It must have been very traumatic when
she left and took your children out of your life.

Not for them, I thought, with a deadpan face.

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.

What you mean is, a cold-blooded brute, I thought.

Ghostwriter: So there was, at least in the beginning, a great deal of


romance in your relationship with Willow?

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.

A beastly baby blanket from the deep abyss. What a sicko!

Ghostwriter (incredulously): Remarkable! If Willow wept when she


opened this exquisite gift , why do you think they were tears of joy, if
she didnt like it enough to take it with her to pass on to her first
grandchild?

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.

Ghostwriter (with deadpan disgust): Perhaps Willow failed to fathom


that its the thought that counts at gift-giving time. Some people
never adapt to the tastes of their spouses.
Dr. Whipple: And some kids never do, either. Sometimes giving brings
a cross of suffering into our lives.

Ghostwriter: Such as when?

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.

Ghostwriter: Werent you financially able to pay the bill yourself?

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.

Ghostwriter: So the liver grossed him out. What happened next?

Dr. Whipple: I ordered him to go stay in the car while we ate.

Ghostwriter: I thought going out to eat was supposed to be a treat,


not torture. Why couldnt you have just let him have the fish?

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.

Ghostwriter: But you knew nothing about it at the time?

Dr. Whipple: While I was picking at my chicken, I decided to take a


break and go see how Blastus was doing. Two big semis were parked
near our car. I saw one of the truckers, a big fellow, standing by his
rig, studying a roadmap. I caught Blastus red-handed with the burger.
I yanked him out of the car before he could hide the evidence and told
him I was going to break his will with ten wallops. Before I could
march him to the trash can to throw his food away, that big brute had
me by the shirt collar and warned me not to lay a finger on Blastus or
hed shove liver down my throat. When I said I was a minister, he said
hed let me convert him to Christ if he let Blastus eat the burger. So
we walked over to a picnic table for a private chat. Blastus ate while
the other truckers stood guard at the car window and kept him
company. Once Blastus finished his meal, the truck driver laughed and
said Id go to hell before he did, and satan would feed me liver for all
eternity. He and his buddies ran to their rigs and sped off before I
could get a good look at their license numbers.

Ghostwriter: Did you beat Blastus for the burger?

Dr. Whipple: Blastus beat the rap on a technicality. He protested that


hed done as Id said and stayed in the car. Temptation came to him,
he didnt go out looking for it. Still, hed broken the spirit of the law,
so I punished the whole family by having Willow serve liver a whole
week. And thus I taught my family that when one member gets out of
order, every member of the family suffers with it. At least I earned an
extra star in my crown for enduring persecution for righteousness
sake.

Ghostwriter: Talk about cruel and unusual punishment. I imagine the


rest of the kids didnt feel too fond of Blastus when they had to choke
down that extra liver.

Dr. Whipple: They were afraid to do much about it, or they would have
gotten their chuck roasts chastened.

Ghostwriter: Fear was the prime motivator in your home. My suspicion


is, your propensity to punish those whose tastes differed from your
own might have been one catalyst which triggered off the
irreconcilable differences which induced Willow to desert you and
prejudice the children against you.

Dr. Whipple: Every good thing I ever accomplished in those childrens


souls, Willow and Sherwood sabotaged. They turned those kids into
freaks. Spanky changed his name to Sparrow and joined some save
the trees cult. Their motto is: Make love, not paddles. Blastus
developed a strange phobia of DIY lumber. Hardwood floors make him
break out in hives. Blastus also developed food allergies because he
grew up without my tender oversight. Beets, whipped cream and
pound cake give him paranormal flashbacks. Rumor has it he even
hates butter. Can you imagine, Willows drifted so far away from God
she cant even drive the devil out of a stick of butter? And my other
boy, Spanky, got kicked out of the army on a Section 8 when Colonel
Crabtree caught him in the kitchen beating Beelzebub out of a rack of
burger buns with his belt.

It burst out. I laughed so hard I cried, and my ribs ached.

Dr. Whipple (tight-lipped): What on earth are you laughing about? My


ex has spiritually ruined Blastus and all my other kids! She and her
leftie liberal wimpy excuse for a second husband were unable to make
Blastus walk the Way of the Cross! Thanks to him, theyre all on
Prozac, the most dysfunctional, depressed people on the planet!

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: Ill give a detailed explanation of this vital spiritual


principle. The Way of the Cross is the path of self-sacrificing love.
Sometimes it hurts to love. Every time I paddled one of my children, I
had to sacrifice my carnal desire to see them smiling and free of pain.
They had to pay the sacrifice of pain for many hours after the
punishment was finished. They had to sacrifice tears. They had to
sacrifice their desire to cry and sulk all day long as they rubbed their
sore bottoms. I had to sacrifice personal tranquility as I fought with
the devil, the accuser of the brethren, who accused me of being cruel.
I had to sacrifice many luxuries I might have had, in order to support
my wife and children. I had to sacrifice sleep time when the children
were babies and demanded night feedings. Just as Jesus was
perfected through suffering, so I have been prepared for heaven by
suffering my hell here on earth. Far from being carried up to Paradise
on flowery beds of ease, Christians find that the Way of the Cross is a
rocky road riddled with rattlesnakes ready to strike as you painfully
struggle to climb the steep, thorny hill to the gates of heaven.

Ghostwriter: Sounds terrible. So thats your take on the joys of


following Christ, eh?

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.

Ghostwriter (reviewing notes) And what about Fanny Mae? Maes


okay, but Fanny is quite antiquated (cough!) Excuse me.

Dr. Whipple: Your brain needs a bath!

Ghostwriter: I never said what youre thinking.

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?

Dr. Whipple: I wanted to remind my daughter that she has to behave,


no ifs, ands or buts.

Ghostwriter: So you did hint at a homonym or two. Did your wife help
you pick out those names?

Dr. Whipple: Each succeeding birth gave my wife another opportunity


to adapt herself to her loving husbands wishes. Willow cried when I
told her she had to submit to me and abide by my choice of names.

Ghostwriter (sarcastically): But youll have to admit, Willow did the


hard part when she suffered through five births. Didnt that give her
some say in the matter?

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.

Ghostwriter: So God is only pleased with women if they suffer enough?


Thats news to me.
Dr. Whipple: Men must also go the Way of the Cross, and lead the way
for their wives to share in the suffering of Christ. God has sanctified
suffering as the ONLY path to Christian perfection.

Ghostwriter: Well debate that prickly point later. Women do have to


suffer, thats life. But at least they dont get party invitations from
their local draft board whenever America goes to war. Adam must
have eaten a whole carload of cranberries to earn that kind of
punishment. You dont look too pleased with what I said. So what
denomination do you represent?

Dr. Whipple: Im an ordained rector of the Epistlepaddle faith, and I


pastored one of the oldest, most prestigious churches in America.

Ghostwriter: Care to name the church?

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.

Ghostwriter: So corporal punishment was one of the main attractions


of that educational establishment?

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: Sounds like a pretty grim joint to me. So youre retired


from the pastorate now?

Dr. Whipple (head bowed): Unfortunately, yes. The Archbishop


decided Id outlived my usefulness and put me out to pasture.

Ghostwriter (tongue in cheek) Its his loss, not yours.

Dr. Whipple: Cant complain, though. Ive amassed sufficient book


royalties and other assets to ensure a very comfortable retirement.
But the fact Im still here on earth at age 86 is a sure sign God must
have further work for me to do. Hence, the horses.

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.

I gagged and nodded, wondering how this elderly gentleman could


handle such a formidable workload.

Ghostwriter: I take it youd like to start a brat ranch yourself. I know


your horses can teach Humility 101 without much help, but what other
humans could help you run such a place?

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.

Ghostwriter: Hmmm. Break a childs will. Another touchy topic on


our agenda. I suppose you may have read about Rev. Lucifer Ripoff
back in the 70s, Dr. Whipple. He ran a chain of Christian correctional
facilities for wayward youth in Texas. There was plenty of controversy
surrounding him. Quite a few survivors of his homes testify to being
brutally beaten and tortured for minor offenses.

Dr. Whipple: Yes, I was personally acquainted with Lucifer Ripoff,


though I didnt share all his doctrinal viewpoints. Perhaps he may, at
times, have been somewhat overzealous in his application of the
spanking Proverbs. But Brother Lucifer must have been a very godly
man to have undertaken such a challenging ministry. Think of all the
teenagers he delivered from hell by combining the power of prayer
with the power of the paddle.

Ghostwriter: He died in the early 80s, I think. In a train wreck.

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?

Dr. Whipple: I take it you dont believe in corporal punishment.

Ghostwriter: Even the Constitution prohibits cruel and unusual


punishment. Some of Ripoffs victims testify to being bound by duct
tape and locked in a room without bathroom privileges. One girl
allegedly got 50-odd licks for saying a swear word when a bird bit her
finger. One boy got tortured by Ripoff and his goons for being a pretty
boy, then they locked him up in a closet for weeks.

Dr. Whipple: Nonsense, thats just hearsay.

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?

Ghostwriter: Some people get executed for murders they didnt


commit. And some kids get paddled when they didnt do anything
wrong. In an imperfect world, miscarriages of justice do occasionally
occur.

Dr. Whipples steely blue eyes sparkled. Here was a topic he could sink
his fangs into.

Dr. Whipple: Unfortunately they do, Ghostwriter. Thats life. Even


though she protested her innocence, I fanned Fannys fanny for
allegedly stealing a dollar from her mothers purse. Only after Fanny
was forced to confess this sordid sin to Jesus did my wife rush into my
Inner Spanktum to try to stop the execution, but too late. Seems like
the dollar had fallen out of her handbag and lodged itself under the car
mat. I gave Fanny a kiss and a dollar and sent her to 7-11 to buy
some candy to soothe her hurt feelings.

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.

Dr. Whipple: Were all sinners, myself included.

Ghostwriter (sarcastically): Hey, dont beat yourself up over that.


Dr. Whipple: Believe me, Ghostwriter, the trials I suffer in daily life are
punishment enough.

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 (reddening) I always taught my children prayer is a joyous


privilege!

Ghostwriter: Youre obfuscating the issue. But Im just curious. Would


it have been okay with you if your kids had prayed and asked Jesus to
forgive them before you pounded them with the paddle?

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.

Talk about a one-track mind, I thought.

Ghostwriter: Well agree to disagree on that one, but three verses


later, Jesus warns it would be safer to have a millstone tied around
your neck and thrown in the ocean to drown than to offend a little
child. That word offend means cause to stumble. So wed better be
mighty careful what we teach little children, and how we teach it.

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: Of course not!

Ghostwriter: Well, according to your theology, somebody should have


whaled the daylights out of that sinful son before his father ran up the
road and kissed him. Your own practice was first, to beat a kid,
secondly, make that child beg God for mercy, and only then did Daddy
hug and kiss him.

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 what youre essentially implying is, if the Prodigal Son


had boogied back to his fathers house repentant, but hardly the worse
for wear, his dad might not have been happy to see him because he
wouldnt look like hed taken his lumps for wasting Daddys dough.

Dr. Whipple: Thats a pretty crude way of expressing it, Ghostwriter,


but Im of that opinion. First the punishment, then the reconciliation.

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?

Dr. Whipple (visibly annoyed): I can do without your sacrilege and


sarcasm, Ghostwriter! Discipline must be maintained in the home. The
grace of God is free, but it is never cheap.

Ghostwriter: So its the parents job to make sure kids pay for Gods
allegedly free grace.

Dr. Whipple: I never said that!

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.

Ghostwriter (blushing): Yes, I know what olfactory means (cough!)

Dr. Whipple: Good. No need to elaborate, but no one fessed up to the


desecration of our devotions. So I administered the spanking
sacrament to all five prime suspects. Only later did my embarrassed
wife tearfully confess to the offense. I love-tapped my wife with a
Frisbee and took the whole family to the zoo to make amends.
Ghostwriter (incredulous): So you never even suspected your wife was
human enough to succumb to such a sordid sin!

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.

Ghostwriter: Please, Dr. Whipple, youll have me rolling on the floor,


Im trying to conduct a serious interview here. What I was trying to
say was, women arent made of fairy dust. They give birth, they

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?

Dr. Whipple: Occasionally, I, like most humans, throw darts at my


mother-in-laws picture (God rest her soul) or cuss at the cat when it
scratches me. Itty-bitty peccadilloes like that.

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?

Ghostwriter: No time, my phones flashing right now. Theyre already


outside waiting for me.

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.

I hurried away, wondering what future sessions might reveal.


Session Two

Dad Blast It!

Thursday, August 13, 2015, 2:11 p.m.

Eagerly anticipating more theological theatrics, I could hardly wait to


hear more of Dr. Whipples fascinating life story. I shook hands with
him, took a seat, and got started on a spirited discussion.

Ghostwriter: Yesterday you related at least one occasion where a child


got spanked for an offense they didnt commit. Can you recall any
other similar incidents?

Dr. Whipple (brightening): Oh, yes! One day I noticed a cooked


chicken leg lying on the floor. The only child home that day was
Blastus. I called him into the kitchen, and it went like this:

Blastus! Why did you throw that chicken on the floor! Pick it up right
now and throw it in the garbage!

But Daddy, I didnt

Dont lie to me, boy!

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?

I beat Blastus for a sin Comet committed, Willow.

Dont you think you spanked the wrong kid? She seemed irked.

Well, I couldnt correct Comet so I had to beat Blastus. The humane


society would lock me up if I chastised him like a child. Besides,
Comets too old to learn any new tricks, so he doesnt know how to
kneel down and pray for Jesus to forgive him. I know the Lord can
understand English, but I dont think He has a dog dialect dictionary.

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.

Or, more butts to beat, I thought.


Essentially I told Blastus too bad I couldnt un-spank him, but at least
he wasnt guilty of lying to Jesus about some sin he wasnt guilty of. I
asked if hed forgive me.

Sure, Dad, can I have a hot dog?

Fine, heres ten bucks. Go treat your pals to McDonalds.

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: But surely Blastus deserved some compensation for his


battered butt. If you do twenty years for a crime you didnt commit,
you can sue the system for false imprisonment.

Dr. Whipple: Actually, I bestowed a blessing upon Blastus. God is able


to use seemingly bad things for our greater good. I gave Blastus an
opportunity to meekly endure unjust suffering and forgive the one who
inflicted it. Spiritual growth is a painful process, Ghostwriter.

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.

Ghostwriter: Dont you think some tears are shed needlessly?

Dr. Whipple: Well, it makes up for those times when eyes stay
stubbornly dry when they could be crying from sorrow for sin.

Ghostwriter: Did God create us to cry or to be joyful?


Dr. Whipple: You cant have deep abiding joy without holiness, and the
price of holiness is pain, as Hebrews 12 teaches. If only my children
had learned to be thankful for all the spankings I gave them to teach
them obedience and godly humility. But they became quite adept at
camouflaging hidden resentment behind a meek countenance, so this
buried resentment ate at their insides like corrosive acid until they
unraveled emotionally and spiritually. See how destructive rebellion
and resentment are? These sins create their own punishment.

Ghostwriter: Do you think that sometimes the pain you inflicted


exceeded the severity of the offense, and maybe that could be why the
children harbored secret resentment until they grew up and could
express it without fear of further punishment?

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: Thats one of the futures worst nightmares: a Thought


Court where you dont even have to murder your mother-in-law, but
youre executed for merely being tempted to do it.

Dr. Whipple: Jesus said its a sin to think bad thoughts.

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.

Dr. Whipple: Solomon said, As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.


Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you might die.

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.

Ghostwriter: So, essentially, you set yourself up as judge, jury, and


executioner in your own Orwellian Thought Court, even when no
outward crimes were committed. Even a grown-up accused of a real
crime is entitled to a defense lawyer before hes tried, convicted and
punished. And even if convicted, hes entitled to lodge an appeal and
have his sentence overturned if finally acquitted.

Dr. Whipple: Youre comparing apples and oranges! Youre talking


about some godless secular legal system which opposes God and His
Holy Word. I ran a home of love, where Bible discipline was strictly
taught and enforced. If I ignored my gift of discernment and allowed
Spankys root of bitterness to flourish instead of punishing him to
purge it out, God would have punished me. God expected me to know
the hearts of my children inside out and deal with them accordingly.

Ghostwriter: So what spiritual stethoscope did you use to diagnose


their heart?

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: So you used enhanced interrogation techniques, or


rather, torture, to crush the heart out of your kids, just like
government goons use nowadays to force confessions out of
suspects from targeted ethnic backgrounds.
Dr. Whipple (hotly): I resent that comparison!

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 (self-righteously stonewalling): Your phone is a marvel,


but the natural mind cant grasp the deep mysteries of God. Proverbs
warns that those who refuse to be taught sound doctrine and rebel
against godly reproof will die. If youre looking for manifestations of
mischief in my children, they were far too numerous to enumerate. Ill
cite one example too scandalous for me to ever forget.

Ghostwriter: So what was this sordid sin?

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!

Dr. Whipple: Blastus caused me a great deal of embarrassment no


matter how much I disciplined him. He only made my job as a father
more difficult. Why didnt he return my love by showing me more
respect? Why didnt Blastus respond to my faithful fathering?

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: I know you dont understand me, Ghostwriter, and


perhaps you never will. It takes deep discernment to understand
Gods deeper truths. One of the most important lessons a Christian
must learn is to walk in the death of Christ. That means you must die
daily to what is pleasing to yourself, and endure harshness every day
for His Names sake. This life might not be a bed of roses, but you get
your share of stickers everywhere you turn. Some fathers boast about
their children being their crown of glory. But Blastus and Spanky in
particular were my crown of thorns. They made me die inside every
single day, and their backslidden spiritual lives never saw any
resurrection to faith in the truth.

Ghostwriter: Did the girls give you any real problems?

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 (with a straight face) Just a kid, about eighteen. I


mentioned the subject of church so I could test him on his discipleship.
A disciple is a disciplined one, a Christian who is constantly suffering
hardship and pain from the spiritual warfare he wages against satan. A
person who gets minimal sleep, fasts often, weeps often, is always
tired because his devotion to Christ makes him a workaholic who
labors around the clock to serve Him. I told the young man God
doesnt need sissy pew potatoes. He needs real men for His kingdom,
and any prospective son-in-law of mine had better remember these
things. Well, he mumbled something and left shortly after that.

Ghostwriter: So the only way a person can please God is if theyre


constantly in a state of pain? What sort of good news is that for the
sinner?

Dr. Whipple (smugly): Id expect you to say something like that.


Unless God passes out Mars Bars to bring people into His Kingdom,
most folks dont seem too interested. Thats how far we as a nation
have fallen from God.

Ghostwriter: Do you believe a father must lead by example, Dr.


Whipple?

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.

Ghostwriter: When you spanked Blastus for something he didnt do,


you asked his dog to forgive you. And that was your face-saving way
of asking Blastus to forgive you as well. Right?

Dr. Whipple: Well, what of it?

Ghostwriter: What about forgive us our debts as we forgive our


debtors? Throughout this session youve maintained that a child owes
a debt of suffering even if Jesus forgives him. Shouldnt you have
gotten a spanking too, even if Blastus forgave you? The Unmerciful
Servant in Matthew 18 got forgiven for owing his master a million
bucks, only to turn around and grab his fellow-servant by the throat
for owing him a quarter. When did you ever forgive your children for
something without demanding that they be punished for it first? If
youll bother to read the story, youll notice that the unjust servant got
forgiven by his master without first taking a whipping. It was only
after the unmerciful servant refused to forgive the other guy that his
master sent him down to his Inner Spanktum to be tortured for his sin.
When you prayed to God to forgive you for a sin, I doubt you asked
Him to torture your tush for what you did. Why couldnt you dish out
the same mercy you got from God?

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

Ghostwriter: Dr. Whipple, youre the one throwing up defensive walls


with typical religious guilt triggers. I sense your reluctance to answer
my sticky point. You maintain that the father should lead the way in
godly suffering. As you said, discipline must be maintained in the
home even if Jesus forgives you and wipes the slate clean. Besides
beating Blastus, on other occasions you paddled a child when theyd
done nothing to merit that punishment. Since you couldnt discipline
yourself, dont you think you should have asked your wife to spank
you for those miscarriages of justice? Dont you think you should get
one lick for every dart you threw at her deceased mothers picture?
After all, the poor woman isnt around to defend herself.

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!

Ghostwriter (referring to notes): Bear with me awhile, and Ill clarify


my position. Your contention that Christ is unable to save a childs soul
unless you first beat that child is erroneous. The apostles never taught
such a thing, and neither did Jesus. The Catholics teach that going to
purgatory, and having someone pay for indulgences to get a soul out
of Purgatory, is necessary before that soul can enter heaven. To this
day, many monks and nuns wear sackcloth against their skin or beat
themselves with little whips to chastise themselves for sin. Some
people fast to expiate their guilt for sins. Punishing yourself, or a little
child, to help Jesus pay the price for their sins reveals an inherent lack
of faith in the all-sufficiency of the atonement Christ made on Calvary.
Paul teaches in Galatians 5:4 that if we try to save ourselves by works,
were in danger of falling from the grace of God.

Dr. Whipple: But as I pointed out in my book Daddys Discipline, John


Wesleys mother believed in spanking little babies, and that man
turned out to be one of the greatest preachers in history!

Ghostwriter: We are not to base our beliefs on historical hearsay, but


only on what the scriptures teach. Isaiah 28:9 says that God can teach
those who are weaned off the breast. In primitive societies, children
dont get weaned till theyre at least two or three. In Mrs. Wesleys
day, baby Methodists couldnt use modern methods to drink milk, so
they had to breastfeed till they could chew solids. In Deuteronomy
1:39 God says little kids cant tell good from evil. And if they dont
know right from wrong, how could Mrs. Wesleys punishment of
breastfeeding babies be justified in the light of this revelation?

Dr. Whipple: Youre just being rebellious!

Ghostwriter: Rebellious against religious bondages! Youre being


rebellious is another favorite Christian catchphrase to stonewall away
the truth. Did you know there were times in Scripture God went easy
on adults for not being able to tell right from wrong? God spared the
city of Nineveh, and it made Jonah mad because he wanted to see that
city nuked. God asked Jonah why He shouldnt spare that great city,
where so many people (including adults, I presume) couldnt tell their
right hand from their left. And when Christ was on the Cross, He said,
Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do. Jesus did not
say, Father, forgive them, but be sure to fan their bottoms first.
Those were grownup crucifiers of Christ who didnt know what they
were doing, not tiny toddlers! Wouldnt a baby or child be entitled to
at least as much mercy for making a far less serious mistake?

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.

Ghostwriter (referring to notes): Sometimes Gods grace is great


enough to overcome mistakes parents make, and God uses their
children in spite of the parents child-rearing methods, not because of
them. In the New Testament, Paul emphasizes obedience to authority.
But he also teaches that the Christian life is one of liberty in the Spirit,
not rigid law. Apparently John Wesley was raised in a very legalistic
household. If he got hungry between meals, he risked being punished
if he tried to get something to eat. I guess Wesleys parents didnt
know a growing boy needs extra calories.

Dr. Whipple: Maybe their being such a large family had something to
do with it. Too many mouths consuming a limited amount of food.

Ghostwriter: Sorry to disagree, but any household which employs


servants cant be too poor. The servants of the Wesley household were
forbidden to feed John, or theyd get scolded and hed get worse. So
much for Christs admonition to feed the hungry. But if its a sin to eat
between meals, even Jesus is guilty of it. Some Christian homes run
on strictly regimented schedules. But in the case of Christ, His and the
disciples mealtimes tended to be irregular because of ministry
demands, as Mark 6:31 indicates. One day Jesus stopped at a fig tree
to find some fruit to stave off hunger pangs. He didnt say, If I find
figs on this barren-looking fig tree, it will count as my official lunch;
otherwise its a sin for me to eat. But you know the rest of the story:
there was no fruit for Him to eat for either a snack or a meal.
One day Jesus disciples grazed through a grain field and picked their
own snack, threshing it in their hands. And guess what? The religious
rulers took them to task for breaking their Law about not working on
the Sabbath. It was only by the grace of God that Wesley survived
such a rigidly legalistic upbringing and accomplished so much for God.

Dr. Whipple: Wesley was a well of wisdom. As I stated in Daddys


Discipline, he taught this principle: Let the little child learn to fear the
rod. Let him learn to cry very softly. Let his will be utterly broken.

Ghostwriter (poker-faced): Did you say break his wazoo?

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.

Ghostwriter: Well, a lot of Baptists would disagree with Wesley on


baptism by sprinkling instead of immersion. It still follows that to
break something you need a heavy hammer to crush something
weaker and force it into compliance. John Wesleys hammer was the
rod, and thats open to interpretation. Is a rod a tree limb or a 2X4?

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!

Ghostwriter: So how big does the board have to be to train a child to


love Jesus? Before women won equal status as human beings, the law
allowed a husband to beat his wife with a stick no wider than his
thumb. But give satan an inch, hell grab a mile. The Rod has inspired
satanic instruments of torture to correct rebellion against bad
religion. Essentially what breaking a childs will means is, if you
break a few capillaries in his caboose, youll break the sin in his soul so
he earns entry into heaven. Jesus said of children: Of such are
(present tense) the Kingdom of God, not could become worthy of the
Kingdom if theyre beaten enough. Jesus did threaten to severely beat
His servants who abused their fellow servants. But He never taught
people to beat holiness into kids, and if He did, I see it nowhere in the
entire New Testament. Only in Solomons writings.

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.

Ghostwriter: There you go again, wise King Solomon, historys greatest


family expert, who partied with a thousand sexy babes while urging
husbands to stay faithful to the wife of their youth, and telling wives to
work till they dropped in Proverbs 31. Family expert Solomon, the
wisest man in all of history. Too wise to beat his own royal hiney out of
hell after he built satanic idols for his heathen wives.

Dr. Whipple: Be that as it may, God, in His infinite wisdom, used


imperfect people to record His words.

Ghostwriter: Thats putting it mildly, Dr. Whipple. If all you have to do


to keep your kids out of hell is beat their bongos, theres no need for
the Gospel of Grace. A large proportion of hard core criminals had
abusive fathers who firmly believed in The Rod, which might take the
form of a cowhide belt, a garden hose, a broom handle. You name it,
its open to interpretation because theres no laws to specify what a
parent is allowed to use, how many times to hit for what, and how
hard to hit which kid of which age, gender or size.
To top it all off, in every context where Jesus warned about the horrors
of hell, NOT ONCE did He repeat Solomons advice on how to
guarantee your kids wont go there: Beat the crap out of them!

Dr. Whipple: Youre blabbering a bunch of baloney! You cant teach a


kid the fear of God till you destroy his own contrary will first, so you
can mold his soul into something better.

Ghostwriter: Thats the philosophy of totalitarian dictators. Take the


nations youth, make them feel like maggots and strip them of their
individuality. Tear down their old personality, with all its aspirations,
wants and needs, to make that person a blank sheet of paper to write
their own will on. And Christians justify using this same tyranny on
children by passing it off as Gods will. Recreate God in your own
image so you can rubberstamp His Name on any policy you like!
Destroy another individuals capacity to exercise free will. A good
recipe for creating dysfunctional, neurotic androids who fear authority
figures so much they cant function adequately in the competitive
world of work once they grow into adults.

Dr. Whipple: Authority must be firm so it will be respected!

Ghostwriter: Working a prison inmate over with a blackjack is one way


to break the guys will so he wont campaign against police brutality
anymore. Still think hitting is the answer?

Dr. Whipple (petulantly): Its still the Word of God!

Ghostwriter: So are those passages about going up to the Land of


Canaan to slaughter all the inhabitants thereof, including babies and
children. Are those words just as binding on modern believers?

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.

Dr. Whipple: Ghostwriter, if youre alluding to my severed ties with my


own children, satan is using you to discourage me! I was faithful to
the Word of God, which commanded me to beat my sons and
daughters with The Rod, and Solomon promised they wouldnt go to
hell. And if they arent headed for hell, theyll want to come home to
me one of these days. But you must get it in your thick skull that you
cannot win spiritual wars by using carnal intellectual weapons!
Individual will is a sin against God and must be broken!

Ghostwriter: If its a sin to have an intelligent brain capable of


deciding whats sane and whats stupid, why didnt God give us the
brain of a bumblebee? All the great leaders of history had to have a
strong will to get anything done in a world full of boot licker
conformists who refused to rock the boat. Can you imagine Winston
Churchill surrendering because Hitler broke his will to win? Or Joan of
Arc acquiescing to the atrocities of English invaders? What would this
planet be like without those few brave hearts who have the iron will,
and the guts, to fight social and religious evils which crush weaker
people underfoot?

Dr. Whipple: Youre just being rebellious, Ghostwriter. Youll never be


a tender-hearted, meekly submissive John Wesley.

Ghostwriter: No disrespect intended, but if Id rather be me than


anybody else. Thats what God called me to be. If Id suffered half of
what Wesley did in his childhood, I would have run away to the Indians
to get something to eat without being beaten for it.

Dr. Whipple: I believe Wesley was English, not American.

Ghostwriter (laughing): I would have had a long way to paddle to get


to those Indians then. In a canoe, I mean!

Dr. Whipple (grimly): Discipline is no laughing matter. How heavy a


burden is carried by a Christian father, who must deny his own human
sentiments, and enforce the penalty of a childs disobedience, that he
might take further steps to prepare that youngster to enter the
hallowed Presence of Almighty God to ask for forgiveness. If such a
saint as John Wesley taught spanking, I must do the same.

Ghostwriter: Is John Wesley your master, or Christ?

Dr. Whipple: John Wesley set an example of holiness for all


generations of Christians who would follow down the annals of time.
Everything John Wesley believed and taught was rock solid.

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?

It was gone in two bites.

Ghostwriter: Shame, shame, shame! You just broke one of John


Wesleys cardinal laws, Dr. Whipple, a statute his own mother taught
him as a child and enforced with the Rod of Correction.

Dr. Whipple: Huh?

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 (referring to notes): I still strongly believe that if a


misguided parent teaches their child that spanking is necessary before
Jesus is able to forgive them, theyre saying to that little child: It
wasnt enough that Jesus took a whipping from the Romans and was
crucified for your sins. You have to suffer too or it wont be enough to
save your soul. That puts a dent in the childs faith in Christ. That
makes the child wonder what other Bible teaching might be shot full of
holes.
Dr. Whipple nearly gagged. I jumped right in with more comments.

Ghostwriter: Thats what I mean by making a child stumble out of the


Way to Life, Dr. Whipple. To be guilty of that runs the risk of turning a
child away from Christ altogether, and making him think that unless
Daddy fans his tail, Christ cannot keep His promise to save him to the
uttermost, as Hebrews 7:25 teaches. It makes a lie out of Christs own
declaration from the cross: It is FINISHED!
For these reasons and more, Im firmly convinced that any parent who
teaches a child they have to be beaten before Jesus is able to forgive
them, is teaching a dangerous heresy. A heresy I call Spankianity.

Dr. Whipple grunted something unintelligible, fed a forbidden snack to


Roscoe, glanced at his watch and yawned. I took the hint.

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?

Ghostwriter: Sorry, you said we needed to finish early today. Gotta


run, fascinating session. Thanks for your time. Hasta maana! Au
Revoir. Sayonara.

Dr. Whipple: Huh? I cant speak Chinese. Need to call your taxi?

Ghostwriter (glancing at my cell phone): No, I see lights flashing on


my screen. My rides out there waiting for me. Gotta go, bye.
Session Three

Solomon Sez

Friday, August 14, 2015 2:12 p.m.

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.

Ghostwriter: Hi, Maria, how are you today?

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.

She looked utterly chastened.

Ghostwriter: Im so sorry, Maria. Heres a few bucks to say thanks for


the great tea you made yesterdayand for your other work.

Maria (deeply moved) Awesome!


Ghostwriter (whispering) Dont forget, Maria, when were alone, you
can just call me Ghostwriter. If I had to do your job, Id want folks to
be nice to me too. I know what its like to work for overbearing bosses.

Maria: Oh well, just glad youre here. Mucho gracias, Ghostwriter.


Guess wed better go in. Hes waiting for you.

Dr. Whipple sat in semi-darkness, spectacles on, perusing a worn-out


Bible. When he heard my footsteps on the gleaming wood floor, he
looked up, forced a smile, gestured for me to sit down. Maria politely
asked if I preferred tea or coffee. I chose sweet coffee with cream.

Maria announced there were two brands of coffee in the kitchen:


Maxwell House or Chase & Sanborns. Which would I prefer?

Ghostwriter: I dont know what Sanborn got chastened for, Maria, so


Ill try the Maxwell House.

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?

Ghostwriter: Only when Im too poor to feed my face. Any special


reason for your abstinence?

Dr. Whipple: Three reasons. Firstly, I want my sales to pick up again.


Secondly, I want my family back. Thirdly, I want to see you repent of
your erroneous doctrinal positions so youll escape hell. If you want a
miracle from God, you must pay the price. No pain, no gain.

Ghostwriter: So what if God deems it best not to grant your petition?

Dr. Whipple: Sometimes satan blocks Gods answers to prayer, like he


blocked Daniels answer for three whole weeks. If Gods too busy to
answer ordinary prayer, Ill get his attention by fasting. Thats the way
to send priority mail to God. Heaven knows people enjoy eating so
much, even God sits up and notices when they quit.

Ghostwriter: Sounds more like a hunger strike to me.

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.

Ghostwriter: Actually, Im enough of a student of scripture to know


Colossians 2:15 teaches Jesus has already defeated satan and all the
principalities and powers of the universe, publicly humiliating them.
Verse 23 of the same chapter teaches that treating the body harshly
doesnt make a person more spiritual. As for Gods hands being tied
unless people fast their fat to fuel His activities, Almighty God was
able to create heaven and earth before the birth of any faster in
human history. Paul never commanded Christians to fast. Nor did he
spell out any rules on such particulars as how to break a fast, how
many fasting points you score for each days abstinence, how many
points it takes to earn what type of miracle, what to do if you
accidentally ingest a peanut during your fast. The crucial question in
that case would be: Do the five calories in the peanut officially break
your fast? Is God ticked off at you for your absent-minded nibble?
Will He punish you for that peanut? After all, the rest of the church is
suffering but you enjoyed one stolen moment of illicit pleasure.

Dr. Whipple: A moment on the lips, forever in satans barbecue pit. He


who lives in pleasure is spiritually dead. We pay the price of suffering
now so we can enjoy life after we die.
Ghostwriter: Speaking of death, theres one hope youve fought to
keep alive. Getting your family back. Does that include the former
Mrs. Whipple?

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.

Ghostwriter: Willows penance would be tough enough, but do you


really want Sherwood to die of distemper?

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.

Whod have you anyway? I thought.

Ghostwriter: So you wouldnt care if Sherwood died like a diseased dog


before receiving Christ as Savior?

Dr. Whipple: Theres a special place in hell for wife-stealers.

Ghostwriter: Did Willow ever have any more childrenwith him?

Dr. Whipple: Two, I heard. A boy, Robin, and a girl, Lotus.

Ghostwriter: What kind of stepdad would you make if they were part of
your life?

Dr. Whipple: Theyd be treated no different than my own kids were.

Poor kids, I thought.

Ghostwriter: Have you ever met them?

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.

Ghostwriter: My original intent had been to focus todays session


exclusively on the breaking of the will, but youve already said enough
to freak me out and satisfy all my curiosity on that point. Id prefer not
to delve into what youre petitioning God to do, but I hope you can live
with yourself afterward if you do get the desires of your heart and
Willow gets worms or Sherwood shrivels up from distemper. As for
fasting itself, none of the New Testament apostles ever taught
Christians to fast. Every church fasting doctrine is either handed down
by tradition or inspired by Old Testament examples of Jews under law
fasting to win Gods forgiveness or bail them out of some mess. In
Matthew 9 Jesus, who defended his disciples for eating instead of
fasting, linked fasting with mourning, not with the Christians normal
condition of joy in the Holy Ghost. Paul commanded Christians to
pray continually and love one another, but Paul never said you had to
punish your body to pry a miracle out of God. To put it bluntly, if Gods
way too weak to clobber satan unless I skip my Hershey Bar, this world
is going down the toilet in one flush.

Dr. Whipple (smiling smugly): Ive driven out batallions of devils by


sacrificing pork chops and gravy, but you can have your devils food
cake if you prefer it to the heavenly manna. Admittedly I had hoped
youd take the bait and spend this session jawing with me about
fasting, a subject you can really sink your teeth into. I could have
made mincemeat out of you with my superior knowledge on the
history of, and importance of, religious fasting. But who am I to call
the shots? For all your phony flattery, you fancy yourself my teacher.
So instead of letting God guide our sessions, youd prefer to stick to
your preplanned syllabus and make a meal of my favorite Bible hero.

Ghostwriter (accepting a Fig Newton): To each his own. If you feel


fasting fans satans fanny, fine, have at it. But now Id like to know,
since youre a take-charge kind of guy. Were you a military man?

Dr. Whipple (pompously): I served six years in the navy before


studying divinity at Glory Road Seminary. I come from a relatively
impoverished background, but my Uncle Lumpy passed away and left
me a lump sum toward my higher education.

Ghostwriter: Fascinating. So was it hard, deciding how to use it?

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.

Dr. Whipple: Some sinners refuse to submit meekly to correction.

Ghostwriter: So what was behind your preference for the ministry?


Dr. Whipple: I detected a sad lack of discipline in the Christian Church.
Most ministers preach pusillanimous platitudes instead of salty
sermons against sin. God blessed me with the Ministry of Rebuke, and
I was afraid He would call me on the carpet if I didnt dish it out.

Always third-party the blame for your devilishness, I thought.

Ghostwriter: Back to your scholastic career. So how did you do in


divinity school?

Dr. Whipple: Other, more pressing commitments, prevented me from


achieving all my highest educational aspirations, but I was awarded an
honorary doctorate for my exemplary exegesis of the imprecatory
Psalms.

Ghostwriter: Honorary doctorate, a remarkable achievement. And,


you did mention a brief career in the Navy. So what rank did you
achieve during your tour of duty?

Dr. Whipple: Rear admiral, for being such a courageous captain.

Ghostwriter: What an omenuhhonor! From captain to rear admiral!


Hmmm. Mind if I explore this subject a bit further?

Dr. Whipple. Shoot.

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.

Ghostwriter: Which brings us back to the firm foundation of most of


your child-rearing theology: King Solomon and his Proverbs.

Dr. Whipple: Solomons proverbs? I beg to differ. Theyre Gods


proverbs, not Solomons, and everything that godly man ever wrote is
binding on believers today.

I felt like Dr. Whipple had already shot himself in the foot.

Ghostwriter: It will take considerable time to hash through all the


ramifications of what you just said, Dr. Whipple. But I disagree that
Old Testament admonitions are binding on Gods New Covenant
children, who are described by Paul the apostle as being free. How
could Christians be bound by what Solomon, a polygamous playboy
living under Mosaic Law, wrote? Romans and Galatians teaches that
Christians are free children of God who are not bound by the Old Law.

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: If God were the actual writer, or should I say, ghostwriter


of Proverbs, wouldnt these verses give Gods invisible authorship at
least a passing mention, instead of letting Solomon hog all the credit
for writing them? God will not share His glory with anyone.

Dr. Whipple: Surely Jesus approved of Proverbs.

Ghostwriter: Jesus mentioned the Psalms of David numerous times, as


well as other prophets. But He never once incorporated Proverbs in
His teaching. Not once. The only proverb of Solomon in the New
Testament was quoted by Peter, and it wasnt a spanking proverb. He
quoted that one about a dog returning to its own vomit.

Dr. Whipple: Surely Jesus said something about Solomon himself.


Surely his teachings must be authoritative for believers today.

Ghostwriter: The name Solomon occurs ten times in the New


Testament, but Jesus mentioned him in only four verses. Not to extol
the greatness and wisdom of Solomon, but to compare Solomon
unfavorably with Himself. The last mention of Solomons name in the
Bible is in Acts 7:47, spoken by Stephen just before the Jews stoned
him to death. Personally, I believe God finished dealing with the nation
of Israel after the death of Stephen, and He didnt choose to enforce
the Proverbs of an apostate Jewish king on Gentile believers through
the ministry of Paul, or any other apostle of the mostly Gentile church
thereafter. Except for Peter denouncing the dog for swallowing his own
vomit, not one epistle to the churches quotes from Solomons literature
or binds it on believers as law. Not even James, the most legalistic
apostle, ever appeals to Solomon as a moral authority, although
modern preachers promote their pet doctrines by appealing to
Proverbs. And any Proverbs which dont make preachers richer or
more powerful tend to be passed over in sermons.

Dr. Whipple: So youre denying divine inspiration of the scriptures?

Ghostwriter: Thats an unfair extrapolation. I never questioned the


inspiration of everything in the Bible. One example of doubtful
canonicity is the Book of Esther, which was a very late addition to the
Christian Bible. Esther was only accepted after centuries of rejection,
and as the result of a vote by Catholic clergy in the Middle Ages.
Esthers authenticity was not accepted as historically accurate by
conscientious Jewish scholars at all. Instead, it was considered a fable.
Esther was taken seriously by the Jews only when they decided to use
that book to empower themselves as an ethnic group. And as for
everything in the Bible being directly inspired by God, that broad
controversy would fill enough space for its own book. One reference
has satan provoking David to number Israel, while another verse
claims God provoked David to do it. There are errors of numerical
translation too. In 2 Samuel 24:13 God offers David a choice of
punishments, one of which is seven years of famine. But a parallel
verse in I Chronicles 21:12 has God offering David just three years of
famine to punish him for the same sin. One mistake is enough to give
the reader the right to question the inerrancy of Biblical translations.
Anything short of absolute perfection is still imperfect.

Dr. Whipple: But you have hundreds of secular humanist translations


circulating in churches these days. Cartoon Bibles, hippie jargon
Bibles, American mumbo-jumbo Bibles, Bedtime Bibles, bah! At least
the good old King James Version came along before religion got
dumbed down to the lowest common denominator. Ive got no reason
to question the content of the Bible or its traditional interpretation,
even when you crunch all those numbers in it that dont add up.

Ghostwriter: Learned theologians have debated for centuries about


correct interpretation of Holy Writ, dispensational division of its
doctrinal applications, the inclusion of or exclusion of books from the
canon of scripture. Did you know that medieval Catholic Church
councils decided which books would be included in the original
compilation of the scriptures, and before they bound these books
together into one volume, there was no Bible Christians could read for
daily devotions? Some of the church officials who voted on which
books to include in the Bible led less than exemplary lives, and
translated scripture under the watchful eye of kings who had a vested
interest in maintaining their power over the populace.

Dr. Whipple: Yes, I do admit some of your prickly points were


mentioned at the seminary. Prior to the Protestant Reformation of the
1500s, church people were indebted to Catholic prelates and Catholic
translators for whatever Bibles they had.

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.

Ghostwriter: My own application of all scripture is profitable is God


can take what He wants to teach you out of the scriptures and breathe
life into a specific text to make it relevant to your own life. Only then
does it truly become Gods living Word to you instead of dead text on
a page. Truthfully, I cant spiritually digest any scripture which does
not reveal Christ to me, or help me walk in His Spirit of love.

Dr. Whipple: But ancient Jews were required to meditate on the Law of
Moses day in and day out.

Ghostwriter: In 2 Corinthians 3 Paul calls the LAW THE MINISTRATION


OF DEATH. One mans meat is another mans poison. As Paul teaches,
Im under grace, not Jewish law.

Dr. Whipple: Apparently youre an antinomian. You dont like being


ruled by every verse in the Bible.
Ghostwriter: So what if I read Judas went out and hanged himself
and then Go thou and do likewise? Should I literally apply that to my
own life?

Dr. Whipple: Youre serious, arent you? You think you can spiritualize
away the All scripture is profitable rule.

Ghostwriter (referring to notes): Bear with me awhile and Ill clarify


my position. Verses about family incest and murder may be useful for
warning us not to live that way, but not all scripture is binding on me.
Some of Christs teachings conflict with what Moses taught. For
example, Jesus warned His disciples not to avenge themselves with the
sword. Moses taught the Israelites to go into the Promised Land and
commit genocide to take over that territory. But God does not
command me to kill Canaanites so I can grab the Promised Land for
myself and my descendants. God doesnt care if I eat a pork chop.
Paul taught that Moses food laws arent binding on us. No decent
Christian would apply that scripture in Exodus 21 which allows cash-
strapped fathers to sell their daughters as sex slaves with the option to
buy them back if they fail to please their new masters. If they did,
theyd be prosecuted by the vice squad for sex trafficking. No serious
follower of Christ would obey that verse in Deuteronomy 22 which
commands parents to stone a daughter to death if shes raped and
didnt scream for help. So what if the attacker held a knife to the
girls throat and threatened to kill her if she did scream, would she be
executed anyway? In Deuteronomy 22 Moses commands Israelites to
execute non-virgin brides. No mention of executing a man for failure to
be a virgin! Do you smell a double standard there? If Christians kept
this law today, theyd be tried for first-degree murder!
Jesus worked on the Sabbath even though God forbade people to do
that. Jesus knew the Law inside out. But He still refused to sanction
the stoning of a woman caught in adultery, though the Bible
commanded that punishment. And, by the way, why didnt that crowd
of enraged men seize the man too, as Deuteronomy 22:24 commands?
God does not command modern Christians to pick up stones and help
execute an adulteress. Jesus didnt even give the repentant adulteress
a spanking!

Dr. Whipple: Be that as it may, if youll read Revelation 2:22, Jesus


threatens to discipline an adulteress on a bed of affliction.

Ghostwriter: If the woman wouldnt repent, Christ would have taken


that extreme measure, Dr. Whipple. If youd read the earlier part of
the context, youd discover Jesus objective was to save this wayward
woman, not wreak vengeance on her. Jesus gave her space to repent
so He wouldnt have to punish her. But you insisted on spanking your
children even if they had a repentant heart. Very few fundamentalist
Christian parents ever follow Christs own example in Revelations 2
when they make the mad dash for the paddle.

Dr. Whipple (smugly): You cant think of any other applicable example.

Ghostwriter: I was ready for that one! In Matthew chapter 18 Jesus


gives His disciples instructions for how to deal with an erring church
brother. Step number one: confront the brother about his sin against
you. If he doesnt listen, step two: Next time you go to confront him,
take other church brethren with you as witnesses, and if he still acts
stubborn and wont repent, expose his sin before the whole church.
And, if the jerk wont repent after that, stop relating to him as a
brother and treat him like a sinner.
By the way, those same paddle-waving Christians would never even
dream of standing up in the congregation and hollering about Sister
Susie flirting with Sister Junes husband. That just isnt done, because
grownup Christians deserve more courtesy and delicate handling than
children. Not once, in any of those verses, does Christ instruct His
disciples to spank the sinning brother. The worst penalty to be inflicted
by the church is excommunication. But if the wayward brother does
repent, its all done and dusted, and no spanking!

Dr. Whipple: Nevertheless, Proverbs 23:13-14 gives clear instructions


on how to rear-end the rebellion in a rug rat. Solomon, the godliest
parent in all human history, commanded parents to beat their children
with the Rod of Correction.

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?

Ghostwriter: If youll bear with me a few minutes, Ill clarify my


position. 2 Peter 1:21 states that holy men of God spoke as they were
led by the Holy Ghost. The key word here is holy, which means to be
sanctified, or set apart unto God. Is an idolater sanctified? Is he a
holy man? Solomon was sanctified in the beginning, but his heart was
led astray by his huge harem of heathen wives.
Dr. Whipple: For all his human flaws, Solomon must have been smart
as a whip.

Ghostwriter: Even if Solomon was a rocket scientist, I doubt very


much he ended his life as a sanctified man. Christians exalt Solomon
as the godliest child rearing expert in human history. So what sort of
example did godly King Solomon set for family life? One wife, ten
wives, werent enough. So he married a thousand women! What kind
of Christian family home is that? In I Kings 11 youll see a fine
example for Christian living. Not only does Solomon, the worlds
wisest child rear-ing expert break Gods commandment by marrying a
multitude of heathen wives, he builds altars to Molech and Chemosh,
who are abominations, or disgusting, in the sight of the Lord. Those
dudes werent harmless dust collectors, either. They were big ugly
man-eating monsters with fat fiery furnace bellies which had to be
regularly fed. They didnt live on baloney sandwiches. Little children
and infants were sacrificed to these so-called gods. Even if Solomon
didnt personally feed a child to the flames, he enabled others to kill
children. Idolaters fed idols out of fear, not love. So Solomon
sponsored spirits of fear when he financed the construction of those
idols. So fear and death were the fruit of Solomons idolatrous life. So
where does Solomon, baby-killer enabler, get the moral authority to
tell modern followers of Christ how to raise their kids?

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.

Ghostwriter: Regrets arent necessarily the same as repentance, Dr.


Whipple. Solomon didnt apologize for beating his forced laborers.
Solomon didnt apologize for taxing his people to death. Solomon
merely regretted that his self-indulgent lifetime had brought him no
satisfaction, much the same as if a womanizer with a long string of
divorces might sing I Cant Get No Satisfaction. In every case where
serious sin was committed and the perpetrator repented, the Holy
Spirit never failed to mention that fact. David repented, even wicked
Manasseh repented. Even Judas repented (though it didnt save his
soul). Last we hear of Solomon he tries to kill Jeroboam, the man God
is using as a chastening rod to punish Solomon for his sins. In
Daddys Discipline you greatly emphasized the need of little children to
meekly submit to the Rod of Correction. Well, Solomon didnt receive
his punishment with meekness. There is no record of Solomons
repentance anywhere in the Bible.
Dr. Whipple: The Bible doesnt mention cell phones or computers
either, but you and I know theyre real. By the same token, while
scripture doesnt specifically say Solomon reconciled with God, neither
does scripture deny that Solomon repented before he drew his final
breath. Only eternity will reveal the truth.

Ghostwriter: John the Baptist said true repentance results in changed


behavior, or fruits of repentance. Fruits such as: Give back what you
stole. Share with the less fortunate. Be content with your wages.
Dont cheat people. Make restitution for wrong-doing, where possible.

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: Were saved by grace alone, Ghostwriter. So Solomon


made it to heaven even if he never demolished a single idol.

Ghostwriter: I doubt thats so. Pauls Gospel of Grace wasnt available


until Jesus died for our sins. Even in the New Testament epistles you
read warnings that idolaters wont inherit the Kingdom of God.

Dr. Whipple: Once saved, always saved. Ive always taught that.

Ghostwriter: Gods grace is not a license to sin, as Paul himself teaches


in Romans 6. Do you really believe, Dr. Whipple, that Jesus will lift
backsliders up to heaven from a bed of adultery when He returns for
the Church?

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.

Maria (sharply): Hey! I heard that!

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.

Ghostwriter: So minister to is a euphemism for beat?


Dr. Whipple: Thats a derisory description of my heavenly calling. The
way I see it, the good Lord gave me two big strong hands, and I used
them to keep five fannies on the straight and narrow.

Ghostwriter (wryly): Better a narrow fanny than a fat fanny, I guess.

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: If a parent clobbers his kids every time they express an


opinion instead of interacting with them in a rational, loving manner,
kids will be psychologically and emotionally crippled when theyre
grown up and have to go out into the world on their own to make their
own decisions about their own lives. Why? Because they never were
allowed to think with their own brains.
Whats more, those poor children will treat others the same way they
were treated. Theyll beat up other children on the playground, beat
their wives, abuse their kids, mistreat their employees, act like a
Frankenstein control freak on steriods. Apparently Solomons beatings
did nothing to instill love for God and neighbor in crude, rude
Rehoboam. Based on scripture, Rehoboam turned out to be an
arrogant, cruel tyrant who tried once in awhile to do something decent
for the sake of appearances, like modern politicians do. But the dark
side of the force dominated his life and he always reverted to type like
a dog returns to his vomit. Rehoboam ended up forsaking the Lord
like his dad Solomon did. Like father, like son. Rehoboam ended up
with a D- in Gods School of Faithfulness, even if he didnt get an F.

Dr. Whipple: Ghostwriter! This book is supposed to be about me and


my fathomless wisdom! Can I please get a word in edgewise? What
was Solomon supposed to be like? A hippie in a Snoopy T-shirt with
barely a quarter to his name? It costs money to run a government.
Solomon needed his taxes. Solomon had to dress in designer duds and
butcher a billion bullocks to feed his fancy court. Somebody had to
sweat to earn the tax money to finance Solomons fancy frills, just so
he could keep up appearances in front of foreign dignitaries.

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?

Ghostwriter: Jesus would, and He did. I cant imagine Solomon


hammering and sawing in a peasants carpenter shop, wearing a
sweaty robe and fueling his body on barley bread. But I get the
feeling youre steering the discussion away from todays topic because
youre grasping at straws trying to defend Solomons moral right to
teach followers of Christ to beat the crap out of folks smaller than
themselves. Paul asked the Corinthians in I Corinthians 4:21: Shall I
come to you with a rod, or in love, and in the spirit of meekness? The
key word here, Brother Whipple, is or. It either has to be the rod OR
love and the spirit of meekness. It cant be both, so they must be
incompatible. Fear of The Rod must proceed from some other spirit.

Dr. Whipple: But John Wesley said

Ghostwriter: Sorry to interrupt, but I John 4:18 says there is no fear in


love, and perfect love casts out fear, which is a thing of torment. I
dont care if its Wesley, Superman or the Grand Poobah saying its a
holy thing to strike terror into the heart of a child. Jesus never said
that, and apparently the apostle John didnt either. As much as you
admire John Wesley and appeal to him to justify spanking, scripture,
as it applies to Christians living in the spirit of Jesus Christ, must have
the final word on whether its okay to use fear of physical violence to
control hearts and minds.

Dr. Whipple (visibly heated): Im a gentleman, so Ill overlook some of


your cruder comments, but youre being mighty nave. Sometimes
you cant reason with the tiny terrors. Ive heard of brats who bite and
curse and swear, tear up everything in sight. Their parents must use
force to control them.

Ghostwriter: It depends on what you mean by force. A quick swat or


two on the seat and a very firm NO! might be necessary now and
then, but only to protect the child from physically harming himself or
others. Physical discipline, even when there is no other way to subdue
a dangerous, explosive tantrum, should never be protracted or harsh
enough to cause injury. Brutal beatings with a paddle do not meet the
gentle and meek criteria of I Corinthians 13. Love is gentle and
meek. A child covered in welts and bruises has definitely not been
dealt with in the spirit of gentleness, love and meekness.

Dr. Whipple: A quick swat? I said in my book A spanking should be an


occurrence, not like a mama bear taking a quick swipe at her cubs.

Ghostwriter: Well, a Wild West hanging was an occurrence too, and


sometimes innocent men got strung up for the entertainment of the
crowd. Nowhere is it recorded in scripture that a spanking should be a
staged production, much less a humiliating self-flagellating religious
ritual as you seem to have made it in your book.

Dr. Whipple: But all other disciplinary methods are unscriptural and
spiritually detrimental to children.

Ghostwriter: I never found that scripture in the Bible. Nowhere are


Gods people instructed to treat children more harshly than adults.
What about Pauls admonitions in I Timothy and Titus to strike no one?
Paul makes no exception for striking children. Paul, a victim of many
brutal beatings himself, wouldnt have said amen to King Solomons
cruel disciplinary measures.

Dr. Whipple: But God taught no other way to correct childrens


misbehavior!

Ghostwriter: As I said before, why should God crack down harder on


little kids than grownups who know better and should be held more
accountable? Throughout the Bible, God disciplined His people in
different ways. When Adam committed high treason in the Garden
against God, God didnt tie him up in a tree and beat the hell out of
him. Instead, Adam got a worse punishment. He got sentenced to the
rat race. Eve got sentenced to other tortures, including having to wash
Adams underwear. God discontinued the dynasties of rebellious rulers.
God made Israel wander in the wilderness. God demoted some of the
Levites to pew polishers. When Jonah tried to run away, God gave him
time out in a whale jail. God didnt always pummel people with a
yardstick to straighten them out. And I think the mama bear has the
right idea. She doesnt beat her cubs to a pulp, she gives them one or
two warning swipes and growls to assert her authority when the cubs
wander too far away from her. The bears objective is not to humiliate
or injure the cub, but to ensure that the cub obeys her for its own
protection until its able to fend for itself in the dangerous wilderness.
A mean old tom cat might beat his own baby kitten up, but Ive never
heard of a mama cat doing anything worse than giving her kittens a
quick cuff to keep them in line. And even when she does that, she
retracts her claws to prevent injury. Speaking of tom cat, isnt it
significant that throughout human history the mother would say, Wait
till your father gets home? Humans made in the image of God are
the only critters who drill holes in a plank of wood to raise blisters.

Dr. Whipple (sarcastically): Maybe Solomons slaves took so many


coffee breaks they needed a few love taps every now and then to
inspire them to greater productivity. What do you think?

Ghostwriter: Pardon the pun, but Jesus doesnt strike me as a harsh


taskmaster who beats folks to force more work out of them. In
contrast to Solomon, Jesus promised people His yoke would be easy
and His burden light. Jesus said in Mark 10 and Matthew 20 that he
came not to be served, but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for
many. Whereas Solomon sat way up on a golden throne and
demanded endless taxes and service out of his subjects, Christ was
humble enough to wash His disciples feet. Would mighty Solomon
have tied a towel around his gorgeous robe and washed anybodys
feet? Surely not, it would have been an affront to his kingly dignity.

Dr. Whipple: Those spanking proverbs are still part of the Bible.

Ghostwriter: Which part of the Bible? Do we read Proverbs under Law


or under Grace? Solomon lived under the Law of Moses. If were
bound to take a stick to children every time they get on our nerves,
then were also bound to keep all the Law. The Law of Moses itself
didnt prescribe spanking for children. It commanded folks to stone
disrespectful children to death. Would you be prepared to keep that
law too, Dr. Whipple? The sheriff would haul you in if you did.

Dr. Whipple: See how merciful spanking is, Ghostwriter? Getting


spanked hurts less than getting stoned.

Ghostwriter: Your average hippie might disagree there. But Lucifer


Ripoff taught: Far better a pink (he really meant, black and blue and
bloody) bottom than a black heart. Either we walk in the stern spirit
of Solomon under law or the gentle spirit of Christ who brought grace
and truth, and never the twain shall meet. Jesus said, I am the Way,
the Truth and the Life. He didnt say Solomon was those things.

Dr. Whipple: Even if your hypothesis is true and Proverbs isnt binding
as Law, per se, its still packed with good common horse sense.

Ghostwriter: Wonder why this proverb isnt equally enforced by


preachers who beat their kids but act foolish around the deacons wife?
Proverbs 26:3 says a fool should get his back beaten with a rod. It
doesnt let old fools off the hook, does it?

Dr. Whipple: That proverbs just a one-off. Obviously Solomon thought


kids needed harsher discipline than adults. He said foolishness is
bound in the heart of a child, not the heart of a senior citizen. Its the
child who needs the rod to drive it far from him.

Ghostwriter: Still, theres no fool like an old fool. Solomon himself


admitted that in Ecclesiastes 4:13.

Dr. Whipple: Youre throwing the baby out with the bath water.

Ghostwriter: Then give equal time to other disciplinary verses in the


Old Testament. How about the old law which demanded the stoning of
adulterers and adulteresses? In Deuteronomy 22 Moses commanded
the death sentence for any man who had sex with an engaged girl.
Both had to die. It says: The whole congregation shall stone them
with stones till they die. So when was the last time a Christian
congregation executed an engaged girl for cheating on her boyfriend?
You look tongue-tied, Dr. Whipple, but if the spanking law is binding,
its all binding! Proverbs 7 recommends the correction of the stocks for
adulterers. Did you ever hear of a church constructing an old-
fashioned stocks to confine the hands and feet of a sinful Christian?

Dr. Whipple: Youre being facetious.


Ghostwriter. No, Im dead serious. When was the last time a
philandering preacher got spanked by church officials for his
sexcapades? One night many moons ago, Reverend Randy Rascal got
caught cavorting with call girls in the Red Light District. He tearfully
confessed on TV: I have sinned! Viewers forgave Randy for being
human. Randy didnt have to get his buns toasted by the church brass
before he was permitted to pray on camera for Jesus to forgive him.
Even after Randy recanted his repentance and the paparazzi caught
him prowling like a tomcat again, he didnt pull down his pants to get
punished by the holey church board. Instead, church officials
defrocked him so he could go fish for funds on his own.

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: Dont you get it? Instead of having to take a beating


before he gets to pray to ask Jesus for forgiveness, a grownup goes
through some vague open-ended restoration process and gets a new
beginning without a belting. But you insist that a child, who is far less
culpable in the sight of God because of his immaturity, be spanked
before hes allowed to be officially forgiven. The authority figure, the
grownup, gets to decide how many punitive points a broken vase is
worth, or a sour look. Thats being capricious, because if the parents
in a lousy mood, he can claim a dropped gum wrapper is worth twenty
licks, when it might not be worth any at all because it was an accident.

Dr. Whipple: Too many accidents add up to sin in a childs heart.


Spanky was about 11 at the time. Tall, skinny and all elbows. Id
admonished that boy again and again to be careful not to spill his glass
of milk. Hed beg me not to beat him, and like a spineless worm, Id
just let him go. After all, with four youngsters and a toddler chowing
down at the same table, the Law of Probability dictates that a spill is
bound to happen now and then. But one day Spanky knocked over his
milk with his bony elbow, and it was his second time in six months.

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.

Ghostwriter: Evidently youve forgotten what it was like to go through


that awkward age between childhood and early adolescence, when
physical growth outstrips the development of adult dexterity. It takes
time for a child to acquire the agility of an adult. The degree of
development of cerebral-neuro-muscular coordination governing a
childs movements is not the same as that of an adult. Growth takes
time. Life can be mighty difficult when a cute child grows into a pre-
adolescent who must contend with clumsy elongated legs and bony
elbows. Adult criticism only makes him feel like a freak. Patience and
understanding are desperately needed with tweenage youngsters.
Same with a toddler. Theyve just discovered their hands and feet,
that theyre useful tools for grabbing hold of things, climbing and
running. As small children reach out to do things to try to win the
approval of their parents, they will drop a lot of things, because their
tiny little hands and the immature nervous systems which control their
hands, dont always perform to the expectation of self-righteous, scary
adults.
Ever notice how much larger the head of a toddler is in proportion to
his body than is the case with an adult? They are not yet like us in
every way. Children should not be treated like tiny criminals just
because they havent yet mastered all the social graces and perfect
standards of behavior demanded by imperfect adults. Wonder if you
ever asked God to be more patient with you than you were with others
who failed to live up to your standard of perfection.

Dr. Whipple looked at me like I was speaking Swahili.

Dr. Whipple: I can do without your sarcasm, Ghostwriter. Remember,


youre a guest in my home.

Ghostwriter: The ownership of this home is irrelevant to the topic of


this discussion. Lets see, here in my concordance app. Heres a good
one that no Christian pastor ever pushes from the pulpit as being
literally binding: In Matthew 5:29-30 Jesus says that if your hand or
your eye makes you stumble into sin, youre to amputate the offending
member to avoid going to hell. So what do you think of that one? You
dont see many Christians going around with one hand or one eye
because they literally obeyed that passage!

Dr. Whipple (evasively): Any idiot with a sixth-grade education can


figure that one out. Jesus was speaking figuratively, not literally.
Youre only supposed to sacrifice the offending hand or eye by denying
its desires and going the Way of the Cross.

Ghostwriter: What an easy copout! So its up to you to pick and


choose which scriptures to literally apply to your life and which ones to
allegorize!

Dr. Whipple: Common sense would tell you it would be insane to


literally practice those particular instructions of Christ.

Ghostwriter: So what about Solomons Rod rhetoric? Why not


allegorize The Rod as meaning any type of discipline that works, like a
firm reprimand, or grounding, or extra chores, or time out in the kids
room? If all scripture were equally enforced as literally binding,
Reverend Randy Rascal would be going around with a seeing eye-dog
with both eyes missing so he couldnt stare at women anymore, to
incite lust in his heart. And, both of his hands would have been cut off
so he couldnt grope any more firm young flesh!

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.

Ghostwriter: So which of my points do you disagree with? If you find


fault with any of my statements or rebuttals, please state your case
calmly and rationally. If you dont feel up to the friction an in-depth
discussion is bound to generate, Ill just take my marbles and go
home.

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.

Yes, Daddy Dearest, I thought.

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: Id say that liver, like oysters on the half shell, is an


acquired taste. Is there any food you dislike, Dr. Whipple?

Dr. Whipple (smugly) : Ive always believed in Eat whatever is set


before you, as my Bible teaches. As long as the food isnt spoiled and
keeps me alive, thats all I ask.

Ghostwriter: So what if you were preaching to the Masai, a tribe in


Africa which boils blood and milk to eat like porridge? Would your
conscience allow you to join in their meal?
Dr. Whipple: The question is moot. I almost never go out. God has
not called me to suffer the tortures of the mission field, and any
African who joins me for dinner will have to like whatever we serve.

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?

Ghostwriter: Ill be blunt with you, cause waffling is a waste of time.


Ive heard of this happening time and again. To cover his tail, the adult
always third-parties the blame and palms it off on Jesus, Who isnt
here to defend Himself. The parent tells the poor kid Jesus told me to
spank you this hard, or this many times. That hardly fosters a loving
relationship between the child and Jesus, who conceptualizes Christ as
a meanie with a stick.

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.

Ghostwriter: Forgiveness means the cancellation of a debt. If


satisfaction for the debt has already been beaten out of a kids hide, he
wasnt really forgiven because his debt wasnt cancelled.

Dr. Whipple (piously): Spanking doesnt wash away a childs sin. No


amount of spanking can appease Gods demand for justice. Jesus died
for little children so they wouldnt go to hell for spilt milk.

Ghostwriter: Thats my argument in a nutshell, though we will continue


to discuss other related aspects of this topic. Spanking. Is it Gods
command or mans demand? And why doesnt any other Biblical
writer, including Moses the lawmaker, command spanking of little
children? Why isnt Solomons spanking commandment repeated
anywhere in the New Testament? My Bible says In the mouth of two or
three witnesses shall every word be established. Throughout scripture
Solomon alone commands spanking. And if he believed in it so much,
why didnt he take a good dose of his own medicine and get ten licks
for building all those child-eating idols?

Dr. Whipple yawned and glanced at his watch. How convenient for him.
Time for me to split.

Ghostwriter: Well, youre rid of me till Monday, Dr. Whipple. Have a


wonderful weekend and thanks for your valuable input.

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.

Freudian slip, I thought.

Ghostwriter: Whatll he preach on?

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?

Ghostwriter: The chastening of the Lord. That should bring in the


tithes.

Dr. Whipple: So would you like to accompany me to go hear him?

Ghostwriter: Sorry, Im all tied up Sunday.

Dr. Whipple grinned and shook his head like he didnt believe me.

I was so glad to put this painful project behind me for a whole


weekend.
Session Four

The Inner Spanktum

Monday, August 17, 2015, 2:09 p.m.

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.

Ghostwriter (whispering to the maid emerging to greet me): Hi, Maria.


Say, is Dr. Whipple still on his strict fast? The poor fellow must be
hollow as the Grand Canyon by now.

Maria: I wouldnt worry about him, Ghostwriter. Last night I peeked


and caught him nuking a bean burrito in his pastors study.

Ghostwriter (chuckling) Lets pretend we dont know, Maria. If going


on a fantasy fast makes your boss a happier man, why spoil it?

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.

Ghostwriter: But I wouldnt advise you to go that long without


drinking, or youll end on a hospital IV drip.

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.

Ghostwriter: Speaking of discipline, did you enjoy Sundays sermon?

Dr. Whipple: Life is full of disappointments. I didnt get to hear Dr.


Underwood speak. He stayed home with a headache, so Dr. P.J.
Bottoms preached instead. Hate to criticize anybody, but Dr. P.J. is the
bottom of the barrel! His sermon was entitled Fly High Like a
Butterfly. What a pansy! You didnt miss much, Ghostwriter.

Ghostwriter: Guess that subject wasnt hard-hitting enough. If a


headache disabled Dr. Underwood, it have been pretty serious, huh?

Dr. Whipple (barely cracking a smile) Dr. Underwood got chastened


with a karate chop when he told his wife she needed to go on a diet.

Ghostwriter: Well, youve heard of the fury of a woman scorned. So did


you glean anything at all out of yesterdays service?

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.

Ghostwriter: What? Did you preach on the porch?

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

Ghostwriter: Stop! Dont need to hear more of that! Dr. Whipple, I


dont mean to sound like an old fuddy-duddy, but it sounds like youve
been feasting instead of fasting.

Dr. Whipple: Huh? What do you mean? I havent so much as touched


a potato chip since I started this painfully slow fast!

Ghostwriter: If youll bother to read your Bible, especially Isaiah 58,


youll discover that God would far rather have you abstain from malice
than Mars Bars. Some Christians who brag about their so-called
fasting gobble up Pastor Pie behind the poor guys back. And besides,
Dr. Whipple, didnt Jesus warn religious folks not to brag about their
secret fasting to others?

Dr. Whipple: But in other verses Christians are taught to be good


examples to others. How on earth will others figure out Im a good
example of Christian conduct if they dont know about the wonderful
things I do for God? Dr. Guthrie Garter gave a lecture a few weeks
ago at our church about the importance of letting our light shine
instead of hiding it under a bushel basket.

Ghostwriter: At the risk of digressing even further from the primary


focus of this series of interviews, Ive wondered why so many
eminent preachers bear the title of Dr., but the church, which is
supposedly a hospital for sinners, loses so many patients. Do you
suppose thats a bad reflection on the skill of those spiritual doctors?

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.

Ghostwriter: One of Solomons prescriptions, in Proverbs 27:22, is to


pound a fool in a mortar with a pestle to get his foolishness out of him.
But Solomon himself admitted that wouldnt work. So why does
Solomon think a stick might do the trick with a child, and drive his
foolishness far from him? Hes contradicting himself there.

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.

Ghostwriter: Well, if torture turns silly sinners into sensible saints,


theres little verifiable evidence of that. The opposite seems to be true.
Treat people mean and they turn mean.

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: Dr. Whipple, today Id like to focus specifically on your


Woody Woodshed punitive products and their spiritual application to
the rearing of Christian children.

Dr. Whipple: Lets get started.

Ghostwriter: First off, I want to ask you: Do you believe the body of
the believer is the true house of God?

Dr. Whipple: Of course. Paul makes that plain in I Corinthians 6:19.

Ghostwriter: When was the last time you committed a sin?

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.

Dr. Whipple (shamefacedly) Yesterday after you left I was at the


convenience store. I sneaked a peek at Boobs & Buns magazine. But I
was only interested in some ad for the Fabulous Fatbuster.

Ghostwriter: You sly old rascal! You are human after all!

Dr. Whipple: I can be tempted same as any other mortal man.

Ghostwriter: So why havent you got remarried? Oh, dont bother to


answer! Youre waiting for Sherwood to kick the bucket so you can
remarry Willow. Did you know theres an Old Testament Law against a
husband remarrying his ex if she went on to marry someone else after
their divorce?

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: Youre no theologian! Im the one who went to seminary.

Ghostwriter: But my elementary school teacher said, If part of the


answers wrong, its ALL wrong! If you say no to enforcing the Law of
Moses and yes to enforcing Proverbs which was written by an
idolatrous king living under the Law of Moses, your exegesis is still
erroneous because youre treating Scripture like a restaurant menu
instead of correctly dividing scripture, as 2 Timothy 2:15 teaches.

Dr. Whipple (petulantly): Weve already gone over that! Why did you
ask that nosy question about the last time I sinned?

Ghostwriter: Hey, I did go off on a tangent before I made my point,


didnt I? Before you confessed your sordid sin, we agreed that the
believers body is the temple of the Holy Ghost. So as a Christian, you
live in the same house God does, and He has ownership of it. Right?

Dr. Whipple: Absolutely. But what does that have to do with the price
of tea in China?

Ghostwriter: Remember you mentioned that your children had to be


punished even if Jesus forgave them, because they still had to pay the
price for breaking the rules of your house?

Dr. Whipple: So?

Ghostwriter (pointing): As Nathan said to David, Thou art the guilty


man! Did you ask God to forgive you for peeking at those pictures
while youre living under His roof?

Dr. Whipple: Of course I did! He knows Im only human.

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.

The Law of Karma strikes again, I thought.

Ghostwriter: So it was a pay-per-view deal! You got chastised twice so


you must have looked at two juicy pictures! Fess up now!

Dr. Whipple (grouchily): I barely glanced at those two trollops, and I


was so shocked I forgot to look for that exercise ad! Ive had to suffer
all my life, far out of proportion to anything Ive done wrong. If I get
up at 5:05 to pray instead of 5 a.m., somethings bound to go wrong
to take that five minutes of stolen pleasure out of my hide. After all
Ive suffered on this fast, youd think God would cut me a little slack
and let me go just one day without partaking of the bread of sorrow!

Or a succulent bean burrito? I thought.

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: Our basic Woody Woodshed paddle is a 2-foot long, 1-


1/2 thick, 5 wide, solid oak paddle with an EZ Grip handle. The
Woody Woodshed is varnished with Duralast Amazon Rain Forest Resin,
to ensure it will last a lifetime. The Woody Woodshed is the only
paddle parents will ever need to purchase. It works on rug rats aged
seven on up, dogs and cats too (although we do now offer the Woody
Woodshed Pet Punisher for $11.14. Use one of these products on a
stubborn pet, and that ornery critter will never again shed hairs on
furniture and refuse to get off. As a bonus, it takes out ticks and fleas,
saving big bucks on tick dip and flea powder.
The Woody Woodsheds sleek, aerodynamic design enables it to cut
through the air in one fluid motion, delivering harder blows with a
minimum of wrist strain. The Woody Woodshed glances off a childs
backside, after focusing all the force of the parents blow on the target
area. This state-of-the-art paddle comes with one dozen rubberized
holes, each inch in diameter. Powered by two rechargeable barium
batteries (which are not included), it inflicts the maximum pain with
minimum exertion by the parent. As the Woody Woodshed swings, it
whistles like a songbird as air rushes through the holes. Bee sting jolts
of Shock and Awe will correct the unruly kids caboose on contact.
Spanking a child will never again feel the same. No more achy wrists
or calloused hands from hard handles.
If a parent is ready to start disciplining a colicky baby, they should
order our low-impact Diaper Drummer, an oscillating rubber Impact
Disk on a motorized handle. It runs on 2 size D batteries (not
included). The Impact Disk is detachable for use as a teething ring.
The baby will love it! The Diaper Drummer makes the perfect Baby
Shower Gift, especially if an adult is tired of being invited to Gimme
parties and doesnt particularly like the freeloader who issued the
invitation. The Diaper Drummer is available for only $22.00, plus P&H.
Once an infant starts toddling, the parent can progress to the Toddler
Trainer, a flexible slab of perforated plastic on a wire handle. The
Toddler Trainer also works on pesky flies. This blessing is available for
a suggested donation of $13.00, plus P&H.
The Wee Woody Woodshed is a blessing for smaller kids who are too
mature for the Toddler Trainer but arent sturdy enough to absorb the
full impact of the full-sized Woody Woodshed. This paddle is hand-
crafted of polished pine instead of heavier oak. It comes with fewer
holes, which are not reinforced with rubber. It is 1-1/2 feet long, 1
thick, and 4 wide, with EZ Grip handles to minimize parental wrist
strain. It is the ideal training tool for small children under the Age of
Accountability. Its currently available for $43.66 plus P&H.
The complete Woody Woodshed Spanking System is available for
only $67.00 plus P&H. Details on how to order all the above-mentioned
products are included on the ad/order form at the rear of my book
Daddys Discipline. With each order of at least one Woody Woodshed or
one Wee Woody Woodshed, or two Diaper Drummers, or three Toddler
Trainers, the customer will receive our Deluxe Discipline Deal, which
includes a wide range of extra accessories to enhance the Christian
spanking experience.
One item included in The Deluxe Discipline Deal is our Punitive Priest
Wardrobe of ceremonial Spanking Vestments. This outfit includes a tall
Correction Cap, similar to the gold-embroidered miter worn by Roman
Catholic popes (Please specify hat size). It is illuminated with four AA
batteries (not included), to cast a powerful glow in the darkness of the
parents personal Inner Spanktum as he and his child proceed toward
the Place of Punishment. This extra feature will instill reverential fear
in any erring child, that he may more fully comprehend that he has
sinned against the Light of the World.
The Punitive Priest Robe is a seamless, full-length, one-size-fits-all
flowing vestment of white silk, gemshot with rare rhinestones and
embroidered with gold designs on the 32 pleated sleeves, which
symbolize the Long Arm of the Law. This robe fits every disciplinarian
up to 500 pounds. To enhance the glory of this garment, the customer
will receive a golden Correction Cummerbund, embroidered with silken
threads of many colors. And a red Correction Cape similar to those
worn by Catholic cardinals. Included in this Punitive Priest Wardrobe is
an ornamental jeweled Paddle Pendant, crafted of black ebony set with
real rubies (believe that by faith). Red satin slippers are also included
in each priestly wardrobe (Please specify size).
For a limited time only, we offer this bonus item in our Deluxe
Discipline Deal: our ministry music cassette, Gregorian Groans,
mournful chants to help inspire a more spiritual spanking experience.

Ghostwriter: Sorry to interrupt, but is Gregorian Groans also available


on CD? Im surprised about the cassette. Thats prehistoric
technology, like the 8-track player and punch card computers.

His reply chilled my blood, or at least he hoped it did.

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.

Ghostwriter: Wow! What sort of sinister signals?

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.

Ghostwriter: Besides satan, who else possesses a cassette player


anymore?

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.

Ghostwriter (cough!): Seriously, Dr. Whipple, dont you think the


Antichrist, that is, if hes even been born yet, has worse deviltry to get
into than spying on some hardworking Hispanic housemaid?

Dr. Whipple (very soberly): Never underestimate the devil. Hes all
around us, up, down, here and there, even in the air you breathe.

Ghostwriter (struggling for composure): Guess Id better buy a gas


mask, then, before old Roscoe cuts loose with another blast of
Beelzebub. But before we stray too far off the beaten track, what else
comes with your Deluxe Discipline Deal?

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.

Ghostwriter: Hey, thats one scary-looking dude. So your action hero


is The Flying Spankster? Do you have an issue of the comic to show
me?

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.

Ghostwriter: What adventure was the Flying Spankster up to in that


particular issue?

Dr. Whipple: Lets seeThe fearless Flying Spankster was soaring on


the wings of the wind, waving Woody Woodshed like a sword of
righteousness. The Spankster was at war with a warlock, Smoky
Butts, a vile villain who tempted teenagers with tobacco. Butts was
invulnerable because he wore paddleproof padding. But after the
Flying Spankster refueled on Punitive Prune Juice, he beat Butts and
said to the tempted teenagers: Go and smoke no more.
Then the intrepid Flying Spankster few back to the his Paddle Paradise
far beyond the skies.

Ghostwriter (incredulous): Sounds enthralling. I get the picture. What


else do you offer in your Deluxe Discipline Deal?

Dr. Whipple: We also throw in a free box of Tough Love Tissues, a


Daddys Discipline Diary, and a digital 5-minute Tantrum Timer. When
the kid starts crying, he should be offered the Tough Love Tissues.
Each tissue has a spanking Proverb printed on it to remind him that
real religion hurts. After the spanking, the Tantrum Timer should be
set at once. If hes still blubbering, or even whimpering when the
timer goes off, he should be corrected all over again till he quits.
Because a spanking is a holy histrionic historical happening to be
recorded for posterior-ity, each spanking ceremony should be faithfully
recorded in Daddys Discipline Diary as a warning to future generations
of rug rats. Then the disciplinarian may proudly place the paddle on
the Paddle Prayer Shrine to show all his church pals that heres one
parent whos fighting harder to save his sons soul from hell than
anybody else.
Once the pain is past, the parent mustnt forget to recite a selection
from Prayers for the Paddled Child. These inspirational, poetic prayers
will help Daddy instill in his child a healthy sense of their sinfulness
and worthlessness in the sight of Almighty God. The less a child thinks
he or she is worth, the less often theyll voice an annoying opinion or
have much to say about anything. That helps maintain a peaceful
atmosphere in the home. Children should be seen and not heard.
What pride that child will take in carving his initials in this splendid
paddle, to testify to the whole world how lovingly his parent punishes
him to reform his bad behavior.

Ghostwriter: So all people have to do to purchase these products is


purchase a copy of Daddys Discipline and just use the order forms on
the back? Sounds a little old-fashioned to me. Dont you have e-mail
or a website where you could advertise online to the world?

Dr. Whipple shook his head.

Im glad he doesnt, I thought.


Dr. Whipple: As I said before, time stood still for me when Willow left
back in 1978. I refuse to move into the 21 st century and partake of the
terrible judgment which will fall on this perverse, evil generation.
Everything Ive heard about the modern world at church or at the
store, it sends shivers up my spine. I wouldnt buy a modern
computer for all the hot dogs in hell. The spirit of Antichrist possesses
each and every one of todays futuristic gadgets. I wouldnt even own
a cell phone. I agree with Brother Fester Bobcat that e-mail stands for
evil communist spy mail so I never use it. Did you know they did a
numerical analysis on the word computer and it adds up to 666?

Ghostwriter: I just cast satan out of my laptop with anti-viral


software. So who do you think is the real Antichrist? Any ideas?

Dr. Whipple whispered his answer in my ear, lest the servants overhear
and report him to Big Brother.

Ghostwriter: You gotta be kidding! Unless that guy hires a better


fund-raising team he wont even be in the running for dogcatcher!
Does the Flying Spankster have a secret identity?

Dr. Whipple didnt crack a smile. Dr. Tadpole Paine, professor of


proctology. A mild-mannered man who plays poker and shoots pool
to pose as a sinner. Nobody would ever guess timid Tadpole is a real
red-hot zealot for the things of God.

Ghostwriter: Ahem! Ive always wondered what might motivate a


doctor to specialize in the Seat of Education, when brain surgery might
be a more fascinating field. But seriously, you dont trust computers,
but youve got an old Apple Mac. Think it might be possessed?

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.

He hopes not, I thought.

Ghostwriter: Dr. Whipple, weve covered your entire inventory of


Woody Woodshed Punitive Products, but we have yet to explore the
spiritual aspect of your Inner Spanktum rituals.

Dr. Whipple: A delightful opportunity to enlighten you. If youll excuse


me a few minutes, Ive got something to do.
Maria slipped back into the room and chuckled to herself as she
changed the soft background music to Gregorian Groans. Cries from
the Stygian darkness of hell! Mausoleum music to molder by.
The lights went out. Candlelight flickered on the walls. I turned my
head. Dr. Whipple was back! Transformed into a cross between a
Klansman and a cardinal! Was the man off his rocker?

Dr. Whipple: Like it, Ghostwriter?

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: If you arent scared of God, youll do stupid things.

Ghostwriter: Lots of people have done stupid things because preachers


got them scared, such as tithing away their rent check. But can we
base our relationship with our Creator on fear?

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.

Ghostwriter: That negative introduction to the love of Jesus would


hamper world evangelism. Telling people God is gonna torture them for
all eternity unless they love Him, what kind of Good News is that? You
can catch more fish by using the bait of Gods love than by beating the
water with a boat paddle and threatening them with hell. Read Peters
first evangelistic sermon in Acts. He doesnt threaten his listeners with
hell. Not once. And Peter was preaching to the worst sinners in town,
the murderers of Jesus Christ, who pressured Pontius Pilate to nail Him
to the Cross. If any crowd deserved to be threatened with hell it
would have been those people.

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.

Ghostwriter: Solomon wrote a whole book on the only kind of love he


was ever interested in, and he had a thousand wives to practice it on.
But before we diverge off our topic, I must say that holey paddle is
what sets off your outfit. It looks ten times as menacing, the way
youre lit up like a laser light show and holding it over your head as the
Gregorians groan.

Dr. Whipple (referring to notes): Marching in the Punitive Priestly


Procession with the paddle is a very holy aspect of a fathers sacred
office as under-shepherd under Christ over his family. Like a Catholic
pope carrying a giant crucifix in his own candlelit Procession, the
exalted emblem of the Christians Parental Priesthood is the paddle, or
in some cases, the belt. Reverently the priestly father of the family
holds up Woody Woodshed as he leads the tiny penitent into his
basement or den, or whatever serves as his Woodshed Sanctuary for
Penitent Souls. Just as a Popes ceremonial Procession is solemnized
by mournful Gregorian chants, the parents own Punitive Priesthood
Procession is blessed by the wails of his fearful child. This is music to
Gods ears, and sweet incense to His nostrils. The childs anguished
sobbing serves as the Processional hymn to hallow the hall where the
Spanking Sacrament is administered for the recovery of that rebellious
soul. Upon entering the Inner Spanktum, the child should immediately
kneel down. Not to pray just yet, but to kiss that Old Wooden Paddle
which delivers his soul from hell.
The parents Designated Woodshed Area is his Vatican, where he
enforces law and order in his home. Its Daddys shrine of devotion to
God, and the FOCAL POINT of his ministry to his erring child. A
hallowed sanctuary where the lengthy process of being reconciled to
an offended God is begun in order that it may be finished by
appropriating the finished work of Christ, Whose blood atones for
every sin. When I preached, Id always say, YOU, mister, are the one
responsible for making sure your child gets clean enough to come into
the Presence of God to receive forgiveness of sins.

Ghostwriter: Sorry to interrupt, but I thought it was Jesus Who cleans


up dirty souls.

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: You seem to believe theres a tremendous burden on the


father to be the childs sole connection to Christ, and that can only be
achieved through a purgatory of pain activated by the spanking ritual,
followed by forced confessions which meet the criteria set by the
Paternal Priest. Otherwise the child cannot be reconciled to God.

Dr. Whipple: Some infidels downplay the doctrine of the intermediary


priesthood of the father by citing I Tim.2:5, which teaches that there is
only one mediator between God and man, Christ Jesus. Yes, its true
most grown-ups dont have to go to some Catholic priest and confess
them sins so that priest can help them make peace with God. But little
kids dont know their right hand from their left foot, so what would
they know about the proper way to approach a holy God theyve
offended by breaking a light bulb? They need Daddy to confess their
sins to, so he can bridge the gap between them and an angry God.
Without Daddy, Christ Jesus cannot complete the repentance process
by reconciling them with the Father in heaven. And Daddy had better
make darn sure he gets to the bottom of a childs sin first before God
gets the chance to wash it away. If God got rid of the guilt before
Daddy beat that guilt out of him, that would be a major breach of
priestly protocol!
Ghostwriter: Not to mention a major blow to the dads ego. And the
fact Daddy would feel like a louse for battering a child who just got his
sin washed away by Jesus.

Dr. Whipple (beady eyes narrowing): I sense a little hostility there.

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.

Ghostwriter: To compare a tantrum thrown by a tired two-year-old


with Davids adultery is a bit over the top, dont you think? What
about all those pastors out there who commit adultery and preach lies
to filch funds out of the people of God? Shouldnt they get a good
dose of Woody Woodshed?

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!

Ghostwriter: I agree the struggling single parent family isnt a picture


perfect advertisement for self-righteous white middle class
conservative values. But aside from the fact a lot of women are
widowed or unjustly divorced by abusive spouses, theres a lot of
single parents out there who work themselves half to death to make
sure their kids have an easier life than they did. Love is about giving
and sharing, not beating fear into someone smaller. Solomon gave
gifts to his wives that perpetuated the spirit of fear: ugly child-eating
idols. What kind of love is that?

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.

Ghostwriter: A guy wouldnt feed kids to Molech unless he hated em,


sounds logical enough.

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: Be that as it may, Solomon received his wisdom from


God, regardless of how he lived his own personal life. You must
separate the chaff from the wheat, and cut the poor fellow a little slack
for being human. Henpecked by a thousand wives, it must have been
temporary insanity that drove him to build those idols to shut them up
so he could have a little peace and quiet and concentrate on writing
Proverbs to teach you how to live your own life.

Ghostwriter: They say Beauty is as beauty does. I say Wisdom is as


wisdom does. One of the wisest things Solomon ever did to cover the
tailpipe on his hotrod was he didnt criticize idolatry in any of his 900-
odd Proverbs. He would have gotten egg all over his face there.

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.

Dr. Whipple (referring to notes): Ghostwriter, Im inclined to speculate


that in all probability Solomon repented in later life. How do I know
this? Solomon laments that he didnt get lasting satisfaction out of all
the thrilling things he did with his life. Ever hear that song: I Cant
Get No Satisfaction? But I try, and I try and I try, the song goes.
Solomon tried his darnedest to find fulfillment in wine, women and
song, but failed. So Solomon tells you how to beat your kids so they
wont fall into the same follies he did. Also, keep in mind that Solomon
only commanded Christians to spank their kids, not sacrifice them to
idols. Give the poor guy a break. Were all sinners, and whos to say
you wouldnt have caved in too if youd had a thousand heathen wives
nagging you night and day for their own designer Molech monster?

Ghostwriter: So what if youd built child-eating idols, even if they were


for somebody else to operate? How would your kids have felt toward
you if they knew youd done such a thing, while claiming to be a man
of God who dispenses His wisdom to dumber entities? Dont you think
Solomons insensitivity toward children just might have wrecked
Solomons relationship with Rehoboam, or adversely affected the
punishments he dished out on a daily basis?
Dr. Whipple: You take a negative view of the results of Solomons
parenting skills, but youre judging from the wrong perspective. The
proof of any doctrine is in the pudding. Solomons son Rehoboam grew
up to be a strong, tough king who was man enough to beat his forced
laborers with scorpions to increase their productivity. Talk about the
Protestant Work Ethic! Thats like some sheriff whipping chain gang
convicts with a rattlesnake to teach them obedience. Rehoboam
wasnt a wimpy pantywaist granola junkie who freely forgave
everybody without punishment! Even if Rehoboam did cause a civil
war in Israel with his draconian domestic policies, his iron will was
forged in the furnace of his daddys woodshed where Solomon flogged
him all the days of his childhood to prove how much he loved him.
But what if Daddy accidentally whips a child for something they didnt
do? No sweat. That little booboo gets credited to the childs
SPANKING SPREAD SHEET in heaven. Whenever Junior does
something bad in the future that Daddy didnt hit him for, those
accidental swats are deducted from the SPANKING CREDITS the boys
built up over the years of his fathers imperfect parenting. Heck,
Daddy can just take his son in the kitchen and fix him a great big
peanut butter sandwich. Like a loyal pup, the boy will instantly forgive
and forget, and that sandwich will soothe his battered bottom.
Which reminds me of another book Im working on, which wont come
out till next year: Beat the Devil out of Your Dog. Before he got run
over by a dump truck, I had this 200-pound pit bull, Grumpy. I believe
satan bumped him off for rebellion in his life. Old Grumpy refused to
get his lazy carcass off the couch so I could watch a ball game on TV,
which incidentally, Ive since donated to the Salvation Army so I could
spend extra time with God. He thought hed won, but after I roasted
Grumpys rump with my very own Darth Vader light saber, he ran away
with his stubby tail between his legs. This book is a saga about my
lengthy, perilous quest to reform Grumpys wayward soul, and oh, yes,
dogs go to hell too if theyre bad. Down there they turn into hot dogs!
Yum! More on that later. Back to children.
Chapter 53 of Daddys Discipline covers baby sins and how to deal with
them. Before babies even emerge from the delivery room theyre
already plotting ways to rob mommy and daddy of rest and peace. If
parents have to get up more than three times a night to feed a
newborn, that infant is treating his parents like slaves and deliberately
depriving them of sleep just for kicks. Then there are times when
parents might be kneeling in prayer, only to hear their little angel
scream to have a dirty diaper changed. You smell something
suspicious. Satan made that babys bowels move at the wrong time so
the parent would get distracted from the things of God. Perhaps the
parent had just changed a soggy diaper a few minutes ago, but now
little Lulus got an even bigger surprise in her knap sack.
Soggy, dirty babies know their parents have far more spiritual things
to do with their life than clean up the devils dirty work. Satan is
definitely behind such a so-called coincidence, for it is his business to
distract the saints of God from their religious duties.
My daughter Fanny Mae was just 8 months old when satan started
attacking us with her pacifier. Shed drop that thing on the dirty floor
and laugh like it was a joke. Shed interrupt our Bible study so wed
have to go wash it and give it back to her, just so we wouldnt have
time for the Lord. Ghostwriter, I could see satan at work, and I prayed
that God would give me the victory over our childs sinister plot to
distract us from the things of God. Well, one day I said, This is the
last straw, kid. Youve sabotaged my quiet time for the very last time.
I go into greater detail about we won this Battle of the Demon-
possessed Pacifier in Chapter 54, once readers have learned the basics
of how to correct infantile sins committed by baby brats. But believe
me, once I trained Fanny Mae Gods way, that girl never dropped
anything on the floor ever again. Fanny Mae learned the lesson so
thoroughly that when she started crocheting, she was too scared to
drop a stitch.
Here are some song lyrics I wrote, which I sing to the tune of an old
hymn:

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.

Ghostwriter: I will say, this session has been the experience of a


lifetime. But before I go, what would you advise mothers to do if
theres no daddy around to conduct the Punitive Priesthood ceremony?

Dr. Whipple (grudgingly): When the first in command gets killed in


battle, I suppose his subordinate must take over to continue to fight
the battle till its won. If the mother is too weak and frail to spank a
kid whos quicker and stronger than she is, Id strongly advise her to
grant her pastor the authority to perform the spanking ceremony on
her behalf.

Ghostwriter: Have you ever spanked someone elses kid?

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

Tuesday, August 18 2:06 p.m.

A stern old face frowned disapprovingly as the happy kitty frolicked.


When the little critter saw the rolled-up newspaper poised for punitive
action, he hopped in my lap to hide.

Ghostwriter: Dr. Whipple, today I intend to ask a lot of loaded


questions. Thought Id warn you in advance. So if theres any
objections, Ill leave immediately to spare you any discomfort.

Dr. Whipple: After serving as satans favorite dartboard for nearly a


century, Ive developed a tough hide. So fire away.

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?

Dr. Whipple: Normally, Id take umbrage at such an inquiry. But then


again, Id expect silly sarcasm from you. Yes, children are full-fledged
people. Why do I believe this? Because we all started off as children,
and a lower form of life cannot evolve into a higher one, any more
than a snail can turn into a swan.
Ghostwriter: So if children are full-fledged people, even if they do act
like monkeys sometimes, then you must agree theyre just as entitled
to the protection of the law as you or I.

Dr. Whipple: Logical enough.

Ghostwriter: Okay. So were approaching this next question with us


both assuming that children are human and entitled to humane
treatment. Spanking is still legal in America, though many other
Western nations have banned it. If spanking must be legal in this
country, dont you think there ought to be federal guidelines regulating
its use, the implements allowed, and the severity of the punishment?

Dr. Whipple: I should say not! The government has no business


sticking its nose in the running of a Christian home!

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: Well, if I survived the attack, Id phone the police.

Ghostwriter: So who pays the police to protect you?

Dr. Whipple (grudgingly): The government, I guess.

Ghostwriter: So the government should protect all citizens, whatever


age they might be. Are we in agreement on that point?

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.

Ghostwriter: Back to the theoretical assailant who attacks you in a


dark alleyway with a Woody Woodshed. What if he were to defend
himself in court on the pretext that he, a law-abiding citizen protecting
public decency, caught you staring at some woman in a short skirt,
and you needed to be chastened for that misbehavior?

Dr. Whipple: This is an outrage! Youre comparing a street thug with a


godly Christian parent! Any guy who mugged me in the alleyway with
a Woody Woodshed would beat the soup out of me and wouldnt care
how bad he hurt me!
Ghostwriter: Thats my point. The mugger wouldnt observe any legal
guidelines as to whether he was entitled to hit you, what to hit you
with, how many times to hit you, or how hard to hit you. People have
used God and Christianity as an excuse to hurt other people for
centuries. The Spanish Inquisition tortured people to death to save
their souls. Millions of Christian parents hit their kids as hard as they
feel like, and as many times as they feel like, on the pretext that God
is guiding them to train their children to love Jesus.

Dr. Whipple: Children need the firm discipline my paddle provides!

Ghostwriter: You seem to think discipline equals beating or other


severe suffering, and nothing else.

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.

Ghostwriter: So if you impress God with a show of suffering Hell


compensate you by bringing her home, eh? I dont think Sherwood
would be very happy if your hunger strike brought Willow back to you.

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.

Ghostwriter: Sounds worse than Woody Woodshed. Before I continue


this line of questioning, please satisfy my curiosity. Was Sherwood a
member of your church?

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: Perhaps there was an unhealed rift between you and


Willow. Did you ahever strike her on any occasion? You did say
earlier that you bopped her once with a Frisbee.

Dr. Whipple: Youre getting mighty personal now. What goes on in a


marital bedroom is the couples own private affair.

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.

Ghostwriter (snorting): Some fun!

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.

Ghostwriter: So what happened next?

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.

Ghostwriter: Whatd you say to that?

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: So you advocate wife-beating?


Dr. Whipple: More like love-tapping. But, I always saw myself as Gods
divinely appointed discipline dispenser within the walls of my own
home. As the nations foremost Fundamentalist family fanny fanner, I
diligently applied my own punitive principles to prodigal sons and
daughters.

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.

Ghostwriter: Guess you could call em Punitive Prune Juice Pancakes,


your own breakfast specialty.

Dr. Whipple (smirking): At least nobody was constipated that day.

Ghostwriter: Did Willow forgive you?

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.

I howled so hard I lost my breath.

Ghostwriter: You and your shocking innuendoes! Are you trying to


crack me up? What other funny things can you recall in connection
with your discipline doctrine?

Dr. Whipple: One Halloween night I went to the door dressed up in my


Punitive Priest vestments, as a visible testimony of my faith. Spanky
and Blastus were too timid to witness for the Lord by handing out
Gospel tracts instead of candy. I did better than that. I handed out
Flying Spankster comics to any kid whod accept one. Spiritual candy
for kids! I called out the door. Read all about it! Flying Spankster
beats the devil out of your life so your light can shine!

What kind of a fruitcake is this? I wondered.


Ghostwriter: So how did your kids react, if any of them watched this?

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.

Ghostwriter: Mustve freaked those whippersnappers out.

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.

Ghostwriter: Was Willow very sympathetic about this?

Dr. Whipple: She did her best to cheer me up. Before long, sparks
were flying in our bedroom again.

Ghostwriter: So spanking is the sparkplug that turns you on.

Dr. Whipple (frowning): Thats a low blow.

Ghostwriter: Back to the more serious matter of whether or not


spanking should be regulated by the government. You insist that all
Christian dads should discipline with the Rod of Correction, and its
preferable to having the mother do it because shes too weak to get
the job done properly.

Dr. Whipple: Thats correct. I believe the dad should be the


disciplinarian of the family. Hes the head of the home under Christ.

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.

Ghostwriter: Youre making a very shaky assumption with no basis in


reality. Throughout Biblical history God Himself discovered how
untrustworthy human beings are. Just because a parent professes
belief in Christ doesnt mean hell always act responsibly. The Bible
teaches that the human heart is desperately depraved, not intrinsically
trustworthy. If Big Daddy had a bad day and got chewed out by his
boss at work, a broken vase might be the last straw that causes him to
unleash his repressed resentment on somebody who cant fight back.
Anger in action, unless constructively channeled, is dangerous
dynamite. King David begged God not to let him fall into the hand of
man because he knew how vicious people could be. If a grown man
like David was way too scared to entrust his personal well-being to
imperfect humans, why expect small children to do so? Why shouldnt
there be laws protecting children from the dangers of capricious
corporal punishment?

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: Well, why shouldnt the government trust a Christian to


always do whats best for his own child?
Ghostwriter: Same reason Randy Rascal shouldnt be trusted to be a
faithful husband just cause he claims to be Christian. Christians are
people, and people arent perfect.

Dr. Whipple: Even if a parents imperfect, Im sure they wouldnt want


to risk doing time in the slammer for aggravated assaultor worse.

Ghostwriter: Never underestimate the destructive power of


unrestrained rage. It takes real humility to let God carry the burden of
anger, even when anger is justifiable and necessary to fight great evils
in society. There are times when anger is understandable, even
inevitable. I was bullied for years in school. I couldnt fight back,
couldnt run away, and its taken me years to cope the fallout of what
those kids did to me.

Dr. Whipple: Have you forgiven them in your heart?

Ghostwriter: Thats exactly what I expected you to say. Most Christians


define forgiveness as totally absolving the offender of guilt or any
obligation to make amends for his behavior. Im not stupid enough to
claim to be better than God is. I can no more grant absolution to an
unrepentant abuser than God can let Hitler off the hook. If I do or say
something wrong, God doesnt forgive me unless I repent. So why
should I forgive the unrepentant? The best I can do is to emotionally
detach myself from those cruel creeps and commit them into Gods
hands for the final judgment of their sin against me.

Dr. Whipple: Forgiveness means forgiveness. Pure and simple, and


were commanded to do it.

Ghostwriter: I did a word study on forgiveness using my Strongs


Concordance. I focused mainly on New Testament passages. Most all
of its usages of the word forgive are translated from the Greek word
aphiemi, which simply means to set aside. This particular Greek
word does not signify the type of forgiveness which grants an offender
absolution, nor does it release the unrepentant offender from the guilt
of sin and its consequences. It does not suspend the law of sowing and
reaping in an abusers life, as stated in Galatians 6:7. The injured
party simply chooses to set aside the offense, so as not to take
personal vengeance. When a Christian cannot absolve a criminal for
what he did, he can leave that one in Gods hands to deal with justly.
This harmonizes with Romans 12:19, which tells believers to refrain
from revenge to make room for Gods wrath. Even this tenuous just
forget it forgiveness might be impossible in the case of an ongoing
campaign of criminal assault against your child. There are degrees of
how bad an offense can be. If Sister Sue forgot to bring a pie to the
church social, its no problem to completely, unreservedly forgive her
because there was no malicious intent on her part.
A stronger Greek word for forgive in the NT, charizomai, means to
freely forgive from the heart as an act of kindness. This verb is used
only three times in the New Testament, and ALWAYS in relation to
other believers, not unrepentant sinners. Just because I set some
serious sin on the back burner doesnt mean God wont finally sort the
mess out and bring justice to the situation.

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?

Ghostwriter: Soft-hearted or soft-headed? Genuine love isnt a forced


fantasyland affection you fabricate to keep God happy. If Im repelled
by an extremely evil individual, I cant lie and say Im fond of him, or
thats self-deception. There were certain Bible characters God Himself
didnt particularly like, and Im no better than He is. Sometimes I
dont even feel a release to pray for certain ones, because the human
heart reaches a point of no return in its rebellion against God, and it
would be useless to do so. I John 5:16 indicates that there are times
when Gods people are not obligated to pray, probably for hardened
sinners who have irrevocably alienated the Spirit of Grace.

Dr. Whipple: Hey, I detect a root of bitterness there.

Ghostwriter: Thats the standard line. Bitterness is a favorite Christian


buzzword which magically transforms the victim into the guilty party.
Unless you dispense unconditional forgiveness to every unrepentant
dirt bag criminal on the planet, youre bitter. Even if God Himself hard-
wired us with a desire to see justice done. The Bible teaches you reap
what you sow, so if other peoples premeditated, prolonged abuse
triggered long-lasting repercussions of hurt and chaos in my life, why
shouldnt they get a little taste of their own medicine?

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!

Ghostwriter: So what youre saying is, those who hurt me should be


spared pain and have only nice experiences?

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 (hotly): So wheres the justice in that? You cant really


mean it, saying a Christian should want only enjoyable things for an
unrepentant enemy who hurt him real bad!

Dr. Whipple (indignantly): Yes, I did! Thats what you ought to be


wishing for your enemies instead of wanting God to chastise them with
pain! The Bible teaches that God draws people to repentance through
His goodness, not through punishing them. Thats how Jesus wants us
to repay those who hurt us!

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: Absolutely not! Get it through your thick skull,


Ghostwriter, that I have unequivocally stated that you are not to repay
your enemies with pain, only pleasurable, enjoyable things.

Ghostwriter (giddily): GOTCHA! You swallowed the bait! Now, Dr.


Whipple, why on earth would you want me to repay evil enemies with
enjoyable things, while you paddled the hell out of your own kids to
punish them, all the while insisting it wasnt enough that they were
sorry and Jesus died to forgive their sins? Throughout your long-
winded book Daddys Discipline, you repeatedly stated that
chastisement, or corrective suffering, is a blessing which molds
children into Christs own likeness and brings about true repentance
toward God. This seems to contradict a scripture you quoted earlier:
Romans 2:4, which states that it is the goodness, forbearance, and
longsuffering of God which leads people to repentance. Nothing is said
in that context about whippings leading people to repentance, which
was your usual practice. As for your contention that evildoers should
be showered with sunshine, what about your own kids? Didnt you
repay their alleged sins against you with pain instead of pleasure? If
so, why are unrepentant enemies entitled to better treatment than a
Christians own kids, who are not his enemies? If suffering is such a
blessing for believers, why isnt it also good for wicked people?

Tongue-tied, Dr. Whipple sputtered unintelligible religious gibberish.

Ghostwriter: Lets take my argument a step further. Unconditional


forgiveness of the unrepentant is one of the biggest sacred cows of
todays church, and if Christians really believed in it, why not let satan
and his demons into heaven too, and say, Ditch the godly sorrow
which leads to repentance part, and fast-forward to the hugs and
kisses happy ending? Why not just open your arms wide and shout,
Satan, I forgive you, all you need is a big hug! And since Christians
seem to think God loves everything in existence, why not just forgive
every bully, every rapist, every mass murderer, every torturer, every
evil creep on Planet Earth because God is too big-hearted to care
about justice?
Unconditional forgiveness of unrepentant lowlifes. This false doctrine of
devils accounts for most of the sermons preached today, except church
tithing, and the curses the preacher wants God to hit you with for not
tithing. But funny how conservative Christians are so gung-ho on
someone else in someone elses family forgiving a rapist or murderer,
and the guy not only isnt sorry, he goes around joking about it. Those
same forgiving Christians approve of their military bombing the hell
out of another country just to go grab their oil. Mighty strange, how
Christians pick and choose whos entitled to get pleasant payback
instead of punishment. By all means, shower every cruel creep in
history with heavens choicest blessings and kill the fatted calf for
them, even if they dont feel sorry for their sins and return to the
Father. But the Golden Rule doesnt seem to apply when Christians
deal with their own small children who love and trust them.

As expected, Dr. Whipple started stonewalling about Stephen, who


unconditionally forgave unrepentant thugs who stoned him to death.

Ghostwriter: That was Stephens prerogative as the injured party,


although such magnanimity wouldnt have helped much if God sent
them to hell for rejecting Jesus. But an example is not a command. It
just so happens Stephen went to heaven immediately after the
stoning, and was spared further suffering. But what if Stephen had
survived the stoning with severe disabilities which would forever after
prevent him from being able to feed himself, chew his food, dress
himself, or control his bowels? What if, for the rest of Stephens pain-
wracked, humiliating, miserable existence, his unrepentant assailants
had come by to laugh in his face every day and brag how theyd gotten
away with it, and gloat about the hardship and suffering theyd caused
him? Dont you think Stephen might have had reason to regret asking
God to release those thugs from the consequences of their cruelty?

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.

Ghostwriter: False church traditions be hanged! God needs justice to


be done! Justice and judgment is where youll find His Throne, as
Psalms 89:14 states. Justice is an intrinsic facet of Gods nature, and
God Himself says He never changes, in Malachi 3:6.

Dr. Whipple: Does this mean youre retracting your former position and
agreeing that its necessary to spank children to satisfy justice?

Ghostwriter: Im speaking of God dealing justly with unrepentant


abusers who are old enough to know what theyre doing, not beating
children and babies who only want a parents love and patience.
Dr. Whipple (testily): God wants parents to train children to obey, and
that cannot be accomplished without firm discipline! Many centuries of
devout Christians training their children with the rod cannot be wrong!

Ghostwriter: Train them to do what? Hit others less powerful than


themselves? If you train monkeys with a stick, you could be cited for
cruelty to animals. Jude said to contend earnestly for the real truth
originally taught to the saints. And as for beating children, nowhere do
any of Christs apostles teach this demonic doctrine! Paul said to strike
no one, and no exceptions were made for hitting children, or going to
war in some far-off land to kill other peoples kids.

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 (staring vacantly): Every car that passes by my property


will always see the Stars and Stripes flying proudly in the breeze. And
when I get to heaven, itll still be flying outside my mansion door.
Dr. Whipple: Ghostwriter, youre quiet and thoughtful-looking all of a
sudden. Whats on your mind?

Ghostwriter: Nothing much. Seeing as this topic is generating more


heat than light, lets talk about your family some more, if it doesnt
make you uncomfortable.

Dr. Whipple: Fine with me.

Ghostwriter: So its been ages since youve seen any of them?

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?

He really means, the clobbering of a crazy father, I thought.

Dr. Whipple: I could have molded my children into fine upstanding


disciples of Christ, if Willow and Sherwood hadnt led them into the
occult. All three girls got involved in New Age voodoo to heal their
past, its alleged. One of them converted to Buddhism and the other
two became atheists. Mercy got married four times and swears shes
finished with men forever. Must mean shes turning into a lesbian.
Spanky moved to Finland to get as far away from me as possible.
Blastus cant hold down a decent job because his people skills stink. I
heard he cried like a baby when his boss rebuked his bad work.

Ghostwriter: Where was Blastus employed at the time?

Dr. Whipple: If you must know, Blastus was making a Mozzarella


Monster Triple Decker at Fun on a Bun Burgers. He accidentally used
Muenster cheese instead of Mozzarella.

Ghostwriter: Id say anybody would get confused if they couldnt think


straight because 300 cars were circling the Drive-Thru, all the bleepers
were going off, and the boss was a cranky monster yelling at them.

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.

Yes, Mr. Malice in Blunderland, I thought.

Ghostwriter: Tell me what you think, Dr. Whipple. If Blastus failed to


become a big shot, who do you think was to blame for that?

Dr. Whipple: Willow warped their impressionable souls. She instilled


deep psychological defects in all of my kids, and the Lords gonna
punish her for it one of these days, you mark my words.

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?

Dr. Whipple: Grace is for grownups who are mature enough to


appreciate it and walk in the light of it. You dont cast your pearls
before swine. The little hellions would trample Gods grace underfoot.
Ghostwriter: So youre calling little children swine? So what if youre
the one at fault because you spank them for something they didnt do?
Dont they, as the injured party, have a right to hope youll reap what
you sow for doing that? Children may be the least of Christs brethren,
but what you do to them you also do unto Him, and theyre just as
entitled to justice as you or I.

Dr. Whipple: My position has always been, Even if a grownup gets it


wrong, the child should just turn the other cheek. Better a lifetime of
repressed rage than an eternity of regret.

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.

No reply. Instead of getting up to say goodbye, Dr. Whipple sat still as


a granite gargoyle, ruminating, his deeply furrowed brow and quivering
jaw betraying his dislike of todays session. Maria waved at me from
the nearby kitchen, and I went outside to await the Ghostship.

I wondered what Dr. Whipple was daydreaming about. Perhaps a


heavenly woodshed where he never ran out of cheeks to chasten.
Session Six

Wednesday, August 19, 2:08 p.m.

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.

Ghostwriter: Dr. Whipple, I hope youre feeling well, considering youve


been on a protracted fast.

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.

Ghostwriter: A billion apologies, Dr. Whipple. My ship got caught in a


storm so we had to take a northeasterly detour.

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.

Ghostwriter: I thought you got quite a few lightning storms in these


parts, and sometimes they spook the horses and cattle.

Dr. Whipple: When I was a boy my dad taught me where lightning


comes from.

Ghostwriter: Where? Enlighten me on that point.

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.

Ghostwriter: Which bad beliefs are you talking about?

Dr. Whipple: Your contention that Solomons spanking theology wasnt


from God.

Ghostwriter: But that teaching isnt repeated in the New Testament by


Christ or any of the apostles.

Dr. Whipple: What about Hebrews 12, Gods Great Chastening


Chapter? Thats the most magnificent sermon I ever preached during
my entire pastorate. When I got finished, there wasnt a dry eye in the
congregation. Or nearly so many folks in the pews as before I started.

Ghostwriter: Hebrews is of uncertain authorship, but the text states


that human fathers correct their children, and God disciplines His own.
However, this chapter doesnt endorse corporal punishment, just
informs the reader that it was inflicted upon the writer by his father
when he was a child. An ancient mans experience is not a command.
Nowhere are Christian parents taught to hit their kids or raise blisters
on their backsides.

Dr. Whipple: So much for Hebrews 12, but you dont seem to like
Solomon much.

Ghostwriter: As I indicated earlier, I dont like how Solomon treated


vulnerable people like slaves or children sacrificed to his idols. I dont
approve of the results of how Solomon raised Rehoboam. Many, many
times in the New Testament David is spoken of or quoted, but Solomon
is never mentioned after the Book of Acts. Solomons spanking
doctrine was never taught as doctrine to New Testament believers, any
more than his contention that fools should be locked up in stocks or
pounded in a mortar with a pestle.

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.

Ghostwriter: You must have run a very tight ship.

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.

Ghostwriter: Were any of them especially hard to wake up?

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!

What a self-righteous Pharisee, I thought.

Ghostwriter: Well, if the Lord prefers to hear zombies snoring and


snoozing out religious rhetoric at six a.m. instead of an intelligent,
heartfelt prayer at six p.m., I find that perplexing.

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.

Ghostwriter: Well, you must care about comfort. Instead of shivering


in the winter, youve got a nice big fireplace. Instead of meditating on
a straw mat, youve got fine furniture to kick back and relax on. But
we wont argue on that point. Tell me more about your daily routine.

Dr. Whipple: After a hearty breakfast at six, Id conduct family Bible


study till about seven.
Ghostwriter: What were some of your favorite passages or topics?

Dr. Whipple: My favorite for morning devotions was Proverbs, because


everyone got a good dose of wisdom before starting their daily
activities. Proverbs is often called the Woodshed of the Bible, while
Psalms is referred to as the Music Room of the Bible.

Ghostwriter: No wonder you chose the Woodshed. Better to cry in the


morning, cause very few feel like singing when theyre half asleep.
But seriously, did your children ever get to choose the scripture for
your devotions, and if so, what sticks out in your memory?

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.

Ghostwriter: Scandalous! I never heard of such a diabolical devotional!

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.

And the fourth P is Paddler, I thought.

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: A lot of modern-day Lots, I guess. Spanky did ask me


why Lot never got a spanking for getting plastered and begetting his
own grandchildren. My heavens, Id barely explained the facts of life
to that boy, and he has to pick out a passage like that!

Ghostwriter: Whats always puzzled me is after Lot caroused in that


cave, he was still called a righteous man in 2 Peter 2:7.

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.

Ghostwriter: A few of the Proverbs do bother me. Proverbs 13:22


states: A good man leaves an inheritance to his grandchildren. Youll
have to admit, Dr. Whipple, a lot of people work hard all their lives, but
the high cost of living and unexpected doctor bills drain all their
money away before they can leave any of it to their kids, let alone
their grandkids. Not to mention the dollar is worth far less today than
it was years ago. And as for the early Christians, an awful lot of them
were hounded from place to place and had their property confiscated.
So if you stick to the letter of what Solomon said in that verse, those
poor people wouldnt qualify as being good because they couldnt
leave a bundle to their grandkids.

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.

Dr. Whipple (shaking his head): Im afraid youll always be a skeptic.

Ghostwriter: Not really. The School of Hard Knocks has taught me a


valuable lesson: Always cautiously interpret what I read and seek a
deeper spiritual meaning in Biblical promises of wealth instead of
interpreting it as a big bumper crop of filthy lucre. Now before we get
way off track, what was the rest of your typical family day like?
Dr. Whipple: Once we finished our morning Bible study, the children
would leave for school, or, in the summer, theyd work around the
house to earn their allowance. On a typical school day, the children
would come home, do light chores such as raking leaves, washing the
car, cutting grass, trimming the hedges. At six wed break for supper
and discuss our day. Afterward, unless there was an evening service,
the children would practice piano or do homework till bedtime at nine.

Ghostwriter: Sounds like a tight schedule. Were the children ever


allowed to have friends over after school, or go over to their homes?

Dr. Whipple: Only on Saturdays, unless their friends were invited to


eat a weekday dinner with us. Then they had to go home right after
the meal so we could continue with our normally scheduled activities.

Ghostwriter: Eat and run, eh? Well, what about yourself? What was
your day like?

Dr. Whipple: Each morning after breakfast, unless I had ministerial


duties away from home, home repairs to do, or other errands to run,
Id retire to my pastors study. Id pray or study scriptures and work
on my sermons until Willow prepared lunch. After lunch, Id return to
my study for further reflection and prayer until dinnertime. After
dinner, Id help the children with their homework until theyd finished
all their assignments to my satisfaction. Before bed, wed assemble for
an hours Bible study and prayer. That was a typical school day for the
kids and myself.

Ghostwriter: What was Willows life 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.

Ghostwriter: So what else would Willow do in a typical day?


Dr. Whipple: Shed do dishes, wash clothes, cook, clean, iron, make
clothes, clip coupons, host ladies prayer meetings, grocery shop, run
errands, schedule doctor or dental appointments, chauffeur the
children to school events, help with homework, do most of my typing.
Willow made all our childrens clothing, except undergarments and
school uniforms. Proverbs 31 requires the wife to make her own
apparel, and that of her family. It also requires her to make extra
items for sale, to contribute to family finances. Willow would take in
ironing when times were tough. And her favorite hobby was making
potholders and quilts to sell at a consignment shop. That killed two
birds with one stone. She helped feed us, and had fun at the same
time. Willow was a workaholic. She didnt eat the bread of idleness or
watch soap operas all day long.
Ghostwriter: Dont you think Solomon should have put his own wisdom
into practice and required his crowd of wives to do all those chores in
Proverbs 31 to earn their keep, instead of lounging around all day
painting their faces and being pampered with easy living?

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.

Ghostwriter: Didnt Willow have any stimulating interests outside the


home? Did she have girl friends she could go do things with?

Dr. Whipple: I allowed Willow to go on hospital visitation with her


friends to cheer up the sick. As a special treat, shed go to Clutterware
parties. Shed have loads of fun discussing the latest diets and
detergents with other wives. Plus, theyd get free coffee and cookies
while they ordered plastic kitchen junk. Before long, Willow was
hosting her own Clutterware parties to help with the family finances.

Ghostwriter: Sounds exciting. Did you actually allow Willow to spend


money at those parties?
Dr. Whipple: Within reason. Ill never forget the Bye Bye Fly Pest
Pulverizer Willow won as a door prize. It was made of reinforced
rubber studded with tiny suction cups that trapped the fly before it
could bounce off and fly away. Much better than that Carrot Crimper
she bought. Anyhow, one day Spanky was left in charge of the dog
while I took the other kids with me to visit their mom in the hospital.
Spanky got so engrossed in Huckleberry Finn that he didnt know
Comet was scratching on the door to go out. So Comet carpet-
bombed our brand new Persian rug. Spanky never noticed the mess till
I got home and slipped in it. My regular Rod of Correction was
missing, so I laid into him with Willows fancy fly swatter. It inspired
my Woody Woodshed Diaper Drummer. That day Spanky learned
that failure to keep watch over souls under his oversight results in the
stench of sin. To this day I can still remember how bad

Ghostwriter (gagging): Dr. Whipple, I just had lunch so Id rather


sidestep Comets contribution and discuss Willows. Do you ever
wonder whether there may have been an unequal division of labor in
your home and Willow might have shouldered too much of the load?
Sounds like you turned her into a Stepford wife who earned every bite
she ate. Did you ever once pitch in with the dishes or vacuuming to
giver her a break?

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: Thats a typical misconception, that preaching is just a


lazy way out of work. Mental work is far more taxing than physical.
Id spend endless hours analyzing Greek verbs with my Strongs
Concordance, to make sure I didnt misapply scripture in my sermons.
Id delve deep into each and every context to extract the solid meat of
Gods Word so I could feed my flock.

Ghostwriter: So word work is far harder than washing and ironing.


Dr. Whipple: Absolutely. But I was a considerate husband. When the
girls got old enough, theyd take turns washing the dishes to give their
mother time to bake pies and cakes for our church socials.

Ghostwriter (dismissively): Im sure Willow must have been thrilled.

Dr. Whipple: Apparently she didnt appreciate it enough, the way she
ran off with Sherwood. Oh, well.

Ghostwriter: Before we go down that road, what was Saturday like at


your house? Did the kids enjoy that day more than the rest?

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?

Probably a happy haven instead of a nuthouse, I thought.

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?

What a control freak, I thought.

Dr. Whipple: One day I went upstairs to check on Spanky to see if he


needed help with his math. I was wearing my soft slippers, so he
couldnt hear my steps out in the hall. His bedroom door was open a
crack. But he must have heard the floor creak when I eased the door
open just a little wider to see what he was up to. I saw a comic book
flying from his hands into his book satchel. So fast I couldnt tell what
hed been looking at.
I demanded to know what hed been reading and he pulled a Flying
Spankster comic book out of the bag. I told Spanky he was in big
trouble for breaking the rule that he couldnt read his comic books on
any day except Saturday.
But Dad, he said, you said I couldnt read my comic books. These
are your comic books. I was gonna show this to Mrs. Frumps class for
Show and Tell. So its part of my schoolwork!
That technicality saved Spankys butt. Once he was a bit too big to
discipline, he bragged to his wife how hed outsmarted me. Seems like
Spanky inserted a Superman comic book inside a Flying Spankster
cover in case I caught him in the act. And for added insurance, hed
padded his U-pants with potholders! The little devil!

Ghostwriter: So Spankys conscience didnt eat at him enough to fess


up before then?
Dr. Whipple: The Bible says the conscience can be seared with a hot
iron. Spankys conscience began to die long before Willow and
Sherwood lured him away from the Lord.

Better a calloused conscience than a busted butt, I thought.

Dr. Whipple: Superman caused so much heartache in our home. One


Sunday I spotted Blastus reading about him while I was preaching on a
real life Bible hero. Other people actually caught the pastors own son
with that piece of trash, and it reflected unfavorably on our home! The
gossip that circulated after church!
I dont get it, Ghostwriter. Instead of meditating on how Samson slew
a thousand men with an asss jawbone, Spanky read about Superman
sending Al Capone to the Phantom Zone.

YOU need to go to the Phantom Zone and spend eternity there, I


thought.

Dr. Whipple: Worse yet, instead of helping us celebrate the life of


Martin Luther, Spanky focused on Lex Luthers intergallactic battle with
Superman. Instead of meditating on Beulah Land, Spanky flew away
with Batty Man, the Crazed Crusader. Being a man of the cloth, I
simply could not allow such sordid sin to go unpunished. So when we
got home, I gave Spanky ten of my best down in the Inner Spanktum.
Then I inflicted Part 2 of his punishment by burning his entire comics
collection. Spanky watched me rebuke satan, Snoopy, Superman,
Spiderman, Green Lantern, Aquaman, Wonder Woman, Batman,
Tweetie Bird, and Tarzan and throw them in the basement furnace. As
he wept and wailed, I told him he should, rather rejoice, because I was
punishing him so he wouldnt go to hell and suffer the same fate.

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.

Ghostwriter: So what did he do?

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.

Ghostwriter: So when you questioned Spanky, he kept a straight face


as he denied feeding your sermon to the dog?

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.

Ghostwriter: Whatd poor Spanky do that time?

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.

Ghostwriter: So Spanky pocketed a lousy quarter that might have


jammed your washing machine if it had been left in your pocket!
Wasnt that a pretty petty peccadillo?

Dr. Whipple: Today a quarter, tomorrow a bank heist. I had to nip


Spankys besetting sin in the bud before he ended up in the clink. But
once again, Comet did his dirty work. Spanky was crying and begging
me not to beat him. I said it wasnt beating, it was loving correction I
was about to carry out. I explained that if I failed to punish him for
the sin of greed and hidden things of dishonesty in his heart, God
would punish me for tolerating sin in the camp of the saints. I told
Spanky I feared God way too much to go easy on him.
My Inner Spanktum was down in the basement, which you could enter
only by going outside the house and down steep steps. It was pitch
dark outside, with no moonlight at all, and very little light from the
house. But I didnt want to wait till morning. A good spanking
fumigates foul air, but I didnt want to beat anybody right before our
Sunday services. So I marched him down those steps to take his
medicine, lest my holy resolve to do Gods will weaken.
I was using a flashlight, but before we got halfway down the stairs,
satan made the stupid batteries go out. But before they did go out, I
saw the basement door was open wide. I asked Spanky whod been in
the basement but neglected to lock the door. He said he didnt know,
but his mom might have gone down earlier to get some peach
preserves. I told Spanky Id spank her too because theres no excuse
for sloppy negligence.

Ghostwriter: Fascinating! You mean, you would have paddled your


wife, not just your poor kids?

Dr. Whipple (grinning): Only symbolically. A quick love tap with a


spatula, no mad money for a week, and early to bed withoutdessert!

Ghostwriter (coughing): No need to elaborate. So what happened


after you entered your Inner Spanktum?

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: Your paddle, perhaps?

Dr. Whipple: Very funny! Id barely tiptoed in there and started to


reach for the light switch when Comet pounced on me, causing me to
slide backwards on his calling card. Before I could steady myself, I slid
backward, hit an oil slick, and I couldnt stop skidding backwards.
Seems like Comet had chewed the cap off a can of transmission fluid
and spilled it all over the place.
Time went by in a blur. It was like dominoes falling over in a rapid-fire
chain reaction. As my feet floundered, I wildly waved my arms,
panicking. I bumped into a surfboard, which tipped over a toolbox
precariously perched on the edge of a shelf crammed with car parts
and DIY junk. An avalanche of paint brushes, varnish, paint cans, nuts
and bolts, pliers, hammers, crow bars, screw drivers and wrenches
rained down on me in the dark.
I twisted like a pretzel as I crash-landed on a collection of junk that
included a dismantled Honda, a rusty old lawn mower, an aluminum
ladder, an old carburetor, an 8-track player, garden tools, fireplace
irons, hula hoops, hub caps, antique appliances, car jacks, tires and
lug wrenches. Spanky rushed out, yelling. Clumsy Comet raced after
him and landed in Stinkys cat litter box. Comet stopped and started
burrowing through the box. As foul fumes and fragments of filth flew in
my face, Comets front paw got jammed in a holey handle on one end
of the cardboard box. As Comet struggled to free his paw, he swung
his rear from side to side, kicking up his hind legs till he fell over,
knocking a big mountain bike off its kickstand. It crashed down on
my back. To top it all off, an old RockEm Sock Em Robot Game fell out
of the bikes basket and chastened my chin. I had to get new
bridgework after that.

Ghostwriter: Sounds horrible! Besides the facial injury, how bad did
you get hurt?

Dr. Whipple: Im lucky to be alive today. If my memory serves me


right, I cracked my collarbone, chipped three ribs, fractured a funny
buner, I mean, bone, bruised my bread basket, hurt my hip, slipped
six discs and grazed the gristle around my gullet. I also tore a tendon.
To add insult to injury, my right hand got broken, so I got out of the
spanking business for awhile. Oh, why couldnt I have been
ambidextrous? My ministry to the children would have been twice as
efficient. I could have disciplined two derrires at once!

Ghostwriter (laconically): Maybe your left hand went on strike, and


thats why it kept striking out when it went up to bat!

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.

Ghostwriter: Did you get any visitors to cheer you up?

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.

Ghostwriter: So what did He have to say about the sad situation?

Dr. Whipple: Those snotty busybodies used God as an excuse to kick


me when I was down! Two Jobs Comforters from hell!. They quoted
Proverbs 26:2: The curse causeless shall not come. Sister Sharkey
said God would never have triggered off that tribulation if he werent
purging some secret sin out of my life! And Sister Harkus barked
amen to back her up.
Ghostwriter: That was mighty mean. What else did they say?

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 (feigning indignation): Some deacon. Obviously unfit for


ministry, since hes such a corrupting influence on a minor. Church is
no place to have fun!

Dr. Whipple: Amen to that. Joyfulness might be okay, but laughter is


frowned on in the Bible. Godly sorrow is more therapeutic for the soul.

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.

Ghostwriter: So what was their response to that?

Dr. Whipple: Sister Harkus hammered on me then. She said shed


heard rumors that the church board had convened and decided that an
accident-prone pastor was a liability they simply couldnt afford,
because my careless accident would dramatically increase policy
premiums on their insurance.

Ghostwriter: That was a low blow. So how did you react?

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: Or maybe your tang got tungled up.


Dr. Whipple: Very funny. Sister Harkus said, How dare you tell us
were too prudish to play passionately with our own pastor, so youll
wallop our britches!

A flood of Freudian slips, I thought.

Dr. Whipple: Their wrath was aroused, to say the least.

Ghostwriter: Only their wrath?

Dr. Whipple: Go wash your brains out with Ajax, Ghostwriter.

Ghostwriter: No kidding, you were flat on your back, getting chewed


up and spit out by judgmental morons who stared down at you like a
bug you and gave you a hard time. You were at your weakest point
and didnt need that garbage. Little children get mighty scared when
great big grownups stare down at them with a rolled-up newspaper
and wallop them for their weaknesses, and mistreat them in moments
of misunderstanding.

Dr. Whipple: Typical leftie liberal, calling waywardness weakness and


mischief misunderstanding! Parents must be firm with children. But
we were all adults there, entitled to civilized treatment. So if I hadnt
been all doped up, I could have dished out a more age-appropriate
rebuke.

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: Unbelievable! Hitlers Gestapo on crack. Before you


dozed off from the anesthetic, did you make a quick comeback?

Dr. Whipple: Mustering all my strength, I told both of em to fly off on


their broomsticks and pray a curse on somebody else. They
understood that one. Sister Sharkey shouted, Im going to fast and
pray!
Know what I said then? I told her she could stand to lose a hundred
pounds anyway, so go ahead.

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?

Dr. Whipple: Because I was innocent of any wrongdoing! Thats why I


was entitled to feel righteous indignation, even if it was uncharitable to
express it the way I did!

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.

Ghostwriter: That must have smarted a little.

Dr. Whipple: What hurt even worse was hearing the doctor laugh
when I went to the emergency room. He called me porcupine pants!

Ghostwriter (meditating on the miraculous Law of Karma): That was


mean, but the road to heaven passes through hell. Just another war
wound in your valiant battle against satans fiery darts. Adam got
cursed with thorns and thistles. But why was your basement so
cluttered in the first place? Even if he was a clumsy klutz, Comet
couldnt have done so much damage in such a short time.

Dr. Whipple: Leaving that basement musty and slightly cluttered


served as an object lesson for my children. But Comet turned it into a
garbage dump.

Ghostwriter: A lesson on how to judge not by appearances, but to love


that basement for what it might potentially blossom into with a little
love and prayerful patience, I suppose.

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.

He looked at me like I was blabbering b.s.

Dr. Whipple: What on earth is a Baboon Cave?

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: Watch it, youre talking about my country!

Ghostwriter: Then you have heard something about that. More


importantly, if youll read Hebrews 11, youll discover your primary
patriotism should be directed way beyond the blue. But why do you
insist on creating the dark scary closet from hell when kids are already
scared to death of the torture awaiting them down in the basement?

Dr. Whipple: Its like eating out at a restaurant, Ghostwriter. The


atmosphere and dcor of a restaurant should be just as appealing to
the senses as the actual food served. So I applied the same principle
to the spanking ritual: An unpleasant experience in an unpleasant
environment. All I did was build on the belief of John Wesley, who said
children should learn to fear The Rod. I also believe they should be
intimidated by the surroundings when punishment is carried out. The
musty, dusty, cobwebby Inner Spanktum was a visible reminder to my
children that sin is a dirty, disorderly, loathsome abomination to the
God they offended by failing to eat their liver. So I let the spiders build
as many cobwebs as they liked down there. And when Comet left his
calling card, that gave Spanky an object lesson about the putrid stench
of sin. There was nothing in that deep dark discipline dungeon to
encourage frivolous laughter in the hearts of naughty children.

Ghostwriter (referring to notes): I dont imagine Medieval inquisitors


decorated their own discipline dungeons with rainbows and smiley
faces, either. Funny, but I dont read any commandment of Jesus to
subject your kids to degrading treatment to teach them to love Him
better. If mind control is your motivation for hitting kids, water-
boarding would break their resistance just as effectively, with fewer
bruises. The apostle Paul, unlike John Wesley, never wrote a
commandment to break your childrens will, and neither did Jesus.
Instead, Paul wrote in Ephesians 6:4 and Colossians 3:21: Fathers,
dont provoke your children to wrath. If the views of children dont
count and should be crushed out of existence, then why would Paul
twice express consideration toward childrens feelings? Why didnt
Paul simply tell fathers to keep on beating their kids till they were
afraid to feel any forbidden feeling? Why would Wesley, a well-
educated theologian, overlook that twice-stated command of Paul
when he insisted that children needed to live in fear of The Rod and
have their will broken?

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.

Ghostwriter (frowning) Why, I never heard of such a scandalous sin as


failing to find time to make liver loaf! And the kids obsessing over
Superman and Green Lantern! All this iniquity transpiring while you
were laid up and in excruciating pain! So why do you think you
suffered that terrible mishap?

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.

Dr. Whipple: Undoubtedly. Read all through the books of Moses.


Proper priests always had to wear proper attire and do their job
according to Gods specifications, or theyd get bumped off in a hurry.
I had plenty of time to reflect on the errors of my ways as I laid on
that bed, writhing in agony. Thats why I designed the Punitive
Paternal Priestly Vestments, and wrote a proper ceremony to observe
while conducting this sacred ritual for the cleansing and mending of a
childs soul.

Ghostwriter: So you think spanking is as sacred as the Seven


Sacraments of the Catholic Church?

Dr. Whipple (grinning): Most definitely. Actually, our branch of


Christendom sprang from a 403-year-old quibble King Harold the Aged
had with the Roman Pontiff 421 years ago. Old King Harold couldnt
cut the mustard anymore, so he needed a new wife to recharge his
batteries. The Pope wouldnt rubberstamp his divorce, so Harold
proclaimed himself pope over his very own reconstituted Catholic
Church. But Harold was an innovator. He added an eighth sacrament to
the basic seven, which was modeled on First Communion, only he
called it First Correction. The first time a rug rat commits some
noteworthy sin, such as spilling his spaghetti on his best bib, you must
initiate him into the faith with a candlelit ceremony, wearing
appropriate processional vestments, amid the sorrowful sound of
Gregorian Groans, processing down to the Inner Spanktum. Once
there, the Punitive Paternal Priest must chant a sacred Invocation,
consecrate the paddle with salt water to represent tears of repentance,
and only then lay on the pain. Failure to follow Gods prescribed
punishment procedure will give satan the power to wreck your life.

Ghostwriter: Sidestepping satan, you really think King Harold believed


God requires all these rigamarole rites to formalize First Correction?

Dr. Whipple: According to the sacrosanct solemnities of the


Epistlepaddle faith, no reconciliation is possible between a naughty
child and God without them, and I paid the consequences for swatting
my tiny toddlers with a flyswatter before I remembered to first initiate
them into the lords wonderful world of whipping whippersnappers.

Ghostwriter: Which lord? King Harold the Horrible or Solomon?


Dr. Whipple: Both. Harold the Horrible hacked off a few heads, but he
did know his Bible. Ordinary Joe Blows are ordered in Titus 3:1 to
render unconditional obedience to kings and other govt. officials. If
King Harold reinterpreted, revised and paraphrased Solomons
spanking proverbs for the enlightenment of his sinful subjects, so be it.

Ghostwriter: Funny, but the word unconditional appears nowhere in


scripture. And Peter did say hed rather obey God than some man.
But, seriously, Dr. Whipple, do you really think you should promote the
propaganda of an unrepentant idolater and a philandering king who
executed most of his ten wives on trumped-up charges?

Dr. Whipple: Nonsense, Ghostwriter. Even if those ladies were


innocent, they sacrificed their lives to submit to their husband, and
good wives always make it to heaven. So what did they lose?

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.

How do you argue with willful ignorance? I thought. Always resort to


religion to cover your can and cover up the real reasons.

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.

Ghostwriter: So you really do believe God broke Spankys arm?

Dr. Whipple (with a glassy-eyed smile): I wonder why the ball bearing
on his left skate was warped. Those skates were brand new.

Ghostwriter: If you knew why before Spanky fell, no wonder hes


estranged from you. Do unto others before they do it unto you, thats
what you seem to believe.

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: I certainly got a poor bargain when I married Willow.

Ghostwriter: Have you grown through the pain youve experienced?

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.

Ghostwriter: Try not to dwell on it too much. Id best be going now.


Dont overdo the self-sacrifice.

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.

Ghostwriter: Cant wait, lifes full of surprises, seven days a week.


Session Seven

Friends with Fester

Fester Krueger Bobcat, Pastor of Woodshed Worship Center

Thursday, August 20, 1:56 p.m.

Maria met me out on the porch and said, Glad to see you again,
Ghostwriter, youre early today.

Ghostwriter: Yeah, he cant complain about me being late.

Maria: Wait till you see who came to join your little powwow. Like
some coffee, tea, or something cold to drink?

Ghostwriter: Coke if you have it, thanks.

Maria: Ill get you a fresh can, on the rocks.

Ghostwriter: Thank you, Maria. Hows Jose?


Maria: Dont tell Dr. Whipple what I said, but Jose saw Dr. Whipple
clobber the crabapple tree and yell at it for bearing bad fruit. Jose
said: Ay caramba! El es muy loco in la cabeza!

Ghostwriter: When your dearest dreams go down in the toilet instead


of coming true, it can drive you crazy, Maria.

Dr. Whipple (greeting me in the vestibule): Ah, right on schedule,


Ghostwriter. Id like to introduce you to my friend and colleague,
Brother Fester Bobcat, senior pastor of Woodshed Worship Center in
Buckaroo, Texas. Im affiliated with his network, Pay & Pray TV. Brother
Bobcat is hosting a seminar in Butte and decided hed like to stop by
and meet you in person. Seems hes heard all about you.

Ghostwriter: Nothing bad, I hope.

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: Pleased to meet you, Brother Bobcat. Ive watched your


show on Pay & Pray TV, Way of the Woodshed.

Bro. Bobcat: Well, I hope youve learned something from it,


Ghostwriter. Are you still heresy-hunting?

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.

Dr. Whipple: Ghostwriter has been conducting a series of personal


interviews to learn more about my ministry, Brother Fester. It does
help to get the word out to warn this evil generation about the hell
that awaits them if they dont repent and return to Gods truth.

Bro. Bobcat (frowning): As long as you know whos trustworthy


enough to spread the word, Dr. Whipple, I guess its your own
beeswax. Ghostwriter, those two men standing over there are my two
trusted sidekicks, B.J. and J.B. People call these terrifying twins The
Two Suits. They dont let a fly in my office till theyve checked it out
with a fine-tooth comb.

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?

Dr. Whipple: Go ahead, if Bro. Bobcat has no objections.

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?

Bro. Bobcat: Sure as shootin he did. He taught me to say Yes sir, No


sir, Yes maam, No maam, and if I got out of bounds he got out his
belt. Hed beat my seat till I felt the heat, and hed teach my
gluttonous maximus to mind my Ps and Qs.
Ghostwriter (choking on chuckles): Pardon the pun-ish, but what a tale
your tail could tell about your chastised childhood.

He stared daggers at me. After five eternal seconds I broke the leaden
silence.

Ghostwriter: On a more serious note, care to share one or two


incidents?

Bro. Bobcat: One day Daddy caught me at my favorite fishing hole


instead of out in the cotton patch where I was supposed to be workin
till suppertime. He started unbuckling his belt but stopped when I
showed him the catfish jumping in the water. I said, Daddy, wouldnt
it be nice to have fried fish for supper instead of just pinto beans and
cornbread?
Daddy grabbed my fishing rod and told me to go sit down and pray
that hed catch a big mess of catfish. If he didnt catch enough for his
own supper, hed beat my britches for wasting so much work time.
Maybe I didnt choose my words right, but I prayed real hard under my
breath that Daddy wouldnt feel like giving me a whipping when we got
home. At that moment, he swung the pole way back over his shoulder
so he could cast the line way out in the water. But instead of flying out
to the pond, the hook caught in the seat of his britches. Id never
heard Daddy holler so loud in all my life.
Then this stranger happened by. Hed watched the whole thing and
offered to drive Daddy to the emergency room. I rode up front with
the man while my Daddy, who couldnt sit up, laid in the truck bed
howlin so loud the hound dog he rode next to howled too.
Poor Daddy. The doctors and nurses could barely dig the hook out,
they were laughing so hard. Daddy told Mama it wasnt fair, that it
oughta be me who had the sore butt after the cotton didnt get picked
and the fish didnt get caught.
My daddy, he had arthur-itis in his right hand, but sometimes he got
so mad he forgot all about it and laid into me anyhow. One day, I
forgot to slop the hogs and my daddy disciplined me. He swung a
switch but it broke. Then he hit my hiney with his hand, but my big
backside was hard as a rock from all the stoop work I did, so Daddy
broke two bones in that hand.
On the way to the doctors my daddy said to me, Son, since youre big
enough to split your britches, youre big enough to mind me without
me having to cut a hickory. Next time them hogs go hungry, Ill make
you eat and sleep out in the pigpen for a month, and I dont think
youd like that too much.
Little Fester gets too big for his britches

Ghostwriter (laughing): Man, you know how to tell a funny story. Im


just glad you got out of a whipping when all that happened!

An awkward silence. The atmosphere was getting toxic. Finally Fester


said, I meant that story as a sober ammunition to godly living,
Ghostwriter. I was a thorn in my daddys side and got away with a lot
of things. But I didnt make the same mistake with my own children.
They learned to respect me or take the consequences.

Ghostwriter: Mind if I ask just one personal question, Bro. Bobcat?

Bro. Bobcat: Shoot.

Ghostwriter: Most Christians arent aware that you had a relationship


with Sugar, a younger woman in your church, and divorced your first
wife, Minerva. But you continually yell on TV about rotten moral
standards in modern America and damn the destruction of the
American home. After the way you cheated on and divorced their
mother, how can the children of your first family still respect you?

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.

Ghostwriter (staring at the worlds broadest breadbasket): But what if


the man spreads out a little? Is that as big of a sin?

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?

Dr. Whipple: Yes. Definitely. As I said before, the husband is the


priest, provider and protector of his home. All remaining
responsibilities are the domain of the wife, and among them is her
responsibility to adapt herself to his desires and wishes. Any personal
ambitions she had for her own life before marriage must die as she
serves her husband, submerges her own identity into his and
complements his ministry. The woman was created for the man, not
man for the woman. She, in effect, becomes a part of him and
sacrifices her own separateness to make his life complete.

Ghostwriter: Do you believe in absolute submission, Dr. Whipple?


Dr. Whipple: Yes. Partial submission is as oxymoronic as partial
virginity. Paul commanded women to obey their husbands in all
things, not some things.

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.

Dr. Whipple: The Bible is unequivocal in its support for divinely


appointed authority. Paul teaches believers to submit themselves to
the rulers of the land. He teaches slaves to obey their masters in all
things, not just some things.

Ghostwriter: If you gentlemen will bear patiently with me, Im going to


share a few reservations I have about slavery passages. When Im
done, maybe one of you can help clear up things I dont understand.

Both men eagerly offered to help and asked me what was on my mind.

Ghostwriter (referring to submission notes): I see quite a few verses


that clash, but then again, you and Brother Bobcat are the ones who
went to Bible school, and Im humbly grateful for any input you can
give to help dispel my profound ignorance. In Acts 5:29 Peter said, We
ought to obey God rather than men. And in I Corinthians 7:20 Paul
commands everyone, including slaves, to stay in the same place in
society where God called them, not to run away from it. Pro-slavery
preachers of the 1800s had something in common with Christian
spanking advocates: They appealed to favorite scriptures to justify
inflicting pain on others. Pro-slavery preachers used Pauls abide in the
same calling exhortation to reassure white masters that it was
morally justifiable for a disciple of Jesus Christ to enslave another
human being created in Gods own image. But, as was argued in the
novel Uncle Toms Cabin, what if a white man were kidnapped by
some Indians and ordered to hoe corn for them the rest of his life?
Would Paul have ordered that white man to abide in that condition of
servitude for the rest of his life, or would God want him to jump on the
first horse that came along and flee to freedom because good Christian
white folks considered Indians inferior savages?

Brother Bobcat: As bad as it must have been for Southern slaves, at


least they didnt have to live out in the boondocks with skunks and
rattlesnakes like my Waddawampum ancestors.

Ghostwriter: Waddawampum? What ethnicity is that?

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.

I took his fire water with a pinch of salt.

Ghostwriter: Shades of St. Patrick! But we should continue our


discussion on the spiritual evils of slavery. The very essence of Christs
Gospel message is liberation from satans bondage. Christ came to set
people free, but a lot of religious folk didnt agree with that, and
ttheres a lot of puzzling theological knots to untie in Scripture.

Bro. Bobcat: Such as?

Ghostwriter: In I Corinthians 7:23, just three verses after Paul


admonishes converts, including slaves, to stay in their place, he
teaches, Ye are bought with a price. Be not ye the servants of men.
Well, how can a man serve a human master without being the servant
of some man? If you serve someone, youre functioning as a servant,
by sheer definition.
Again, Ephesians 6:6 and Colossians 2:22 teaches Christian slaves not
to be menpleasers. But other verses of Ephesians 6 teach slaves to
obey their masters. So how can you obey them without pleasing
them, which makes you a menpleaser? In Titus 2:9 Paul teaches
slaves to please their masters in all things, with no exceptions
mentioned. Keep in mind Paul, a free male, was writing these things.
The obligation to please her master in all things could have made
some poor Christian slave girl wonder if she had to commit fornication
with her married master whenever he required this of her. Obviously if
she had to refuse his advances to stay true to Christ, she wouldnt
have been pleasing her master in all things. To complicate matters
further, Paul teaches that fornicators will not inherit the Kingdom of
God. So does that poor slave girl have to break one of Pauls
commandments to keep another, so she wont be shut out of heaven?

Bro. Bobcat (evasively): That was Roman slavery, Ghostwriter. They


were heathens who worshipped false gods. A lot of Southern slave
owners went to church and taught their slaves about the Lord. Not
that Im defending slavery, cause a lot of my most dedicated church
members are black. Thats just the way it was back then.

Ghostwriter: Roman slavery was awful, but only in America were


slaves taught that they werent members of the human race. American
slavery was so harsh and cruel, families and marriages were split up.
Many women and girls were brutally raped by churchgoing masters or
sold in New Orleans to be prostitutes. Black men were forced to breed
children for the slave market like cattle. If a white tortured a black
slave or even killed him, he didnt expect to go to jail for doing what
he liked with property hed bought and paid for. When Paul wrote these
pro-slavery verses, could he look down through the corridors of time
and foresee all the spiritually destructive horrors of Southern slavery
in America, and all the atrocities committed by alleged followers of
Christ against other races? But back to this burning question: How
could Paul teach slaves to do everything their master said without
protest, then tell believers not to be servants of men? No wonder
Christians get confused and frustrated when unbelievers point out
Bible contradictions in the inerrant Word of God. Too many mixed
messages make readers mixed-up about their beliefs. Talk about the
trumpet blowing an uncertain sound!

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.

Bro. Bobcat: So those submission scriptures bother you that much? If


you really loved Jesus you wouldnt even think Paul was unqualified
to teach poor white trash to shout for joy when they chopped cotton
for the uppercrust and went home to their tar paper shacks. Paul got
more whippins than them slaves he wrote to, and you know it! And,
he wore himself out night and day makin pup tents for the army.

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.

Bro. Bobcat: That Deuteronomy verse was written under Law,


Ghostwriter, thats why Southern preachers didnt preach it.

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: For the most part, professional ministers, if they


condescended to visit slave row at all, would merely counsel the poor
longsuffering blacks to rest content with the condition of servitude God
graciously had, in His divine providence, foreordained to be their
temporal lot. This, from a pompous parson provided with a lavish
living, whose hands were soft as silk from toiling with his tongue.

Bro. Bobcat: Youre so rebellious and stubborn all you want to do is


rock the boat that keeps you from falling in and drowning.

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?

Dr. Whipple: Amen! Full, unconditional forgiveness is always required


any time the guilty party feels like asking for it. Real forgiveness
restores relationships to what they were before the sin was committed.

Ghostwriter: God forgives, but sometimes sinners have to pay the


piper after theyve had their fun, like King David did after his sin with
Bathsheba. Not all sins are created equal. Running a cathouse is a
slightly bigger sin than chewing bubblegum in church. So what if a
cheating husband has been prowling around with hookers who had
Aids, then came down with it, and still wanted to have sex with his
wife after asking her forgiveness? Should the woman let him? Should
she sacrifice her own health, her own life, to submit to such a
husband, even if her own children will end up without a mother to care
for them? Whats more important, to keep some law or protect
human life? Jesus asked that question when the Pharisees rebuked
Him for breaking Sabbath Day rules and regulations.
Dr. Whipple (glaring impatiently at his watch): Dont you think its
about time you hit the road, Ghostwriter?

Ghostwriter: Yep, its about that time. But how are you feeling, Dr.
Whipple? Are you still on your slow fast?

Dr. Whipple: Not much longer. Brother Bobcat invited me out to


Bubbas Barbecue for their early bird all-you-can-eat feast. Thats why
you need to be on your way.

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.

Ghostwriter: So its God, not Bubbas Barbecue, leading you to finish


this fast?

Dr. Whipple: What do you take me for, Ghostwriter, an Esau who sells
my own precious soul for a bowl of crawdad bisque?

Ghostwriter: No, no. What I meant, Dr. Whipple, is Im sorry our


interviews have been such a trial of affliction for you, and we werent
always on the same wavelength. We could cancel our final meeting
tomorrow if you prefer. I dont travel so far to make people miserable.

Dr. Whipple: Nonsense, I insist you come tomorrow. Theres an awful


lot left that needs to be said. I want the whole wide world to know
how greatly I grieve for the sins of those who should have supported
me in my ministry but betrayed me like Judas. I anticipate our final
interview with a great deal of enthusiasm.

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: I understand. Some Christians dont believe in TV, the


Internet, even cassette players. I dont have a web site for my
ministry or e-mail, because that sphere is being infiltrated by
Communist spies who report on high-profile people to the New World
Order. But as for your question about Willow, yes, I still sell her book.

Dr. Whipple (gruffly): And I suppose she still continues to use my


name on the front cover.

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.

Rather, the depressing life she led with you, I thought.

Ghostwriter: Uhbefore I go, could I take a quick peek at Willows


book, Dr. Whipple, if you happen to have a copy on hand?

Dr. Whipple: Of course, its in that book shelf over there. Ill go fetch it
for you.

The cover was absolutely stunning.


Ghostwriter: She really believes that, Dr. Whipple?

Dr. Whipple: Chances are, she doesnt anymore. If Sherwood cant


keep his dirty paws off other women, theres no incentive for her to
torture her body to stay skinny for him.

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.

Ghostwriter: Dr. Whipple, you gave me the impression that Sherwood


was a poor drifter driving a hippie van, not some millionaire who could
hire maids to pamper Willow.
Dr. Whipple: Correction, Ghostwriter. Add three more zeros to the sum.
Sherwood was the eccentric heir to a billionaire, Barnicus Onesimus
Fatwood, CEO of Rumpledump Caustic Conglomerates. Fatwood Sr.
died shortly after Sherwood ran away with my wife and kids.
Apparently B.O. Fatwood was highly impressed by the elegant, well-
mannered lady his son had won and thought she might straighten him
out. So father and son reconciled, Sherwood was made sole heir, and
the rotten rat was set up for life. After he hit the jackpot, S***wood,
er, I mean, Sherwood, hired the slimiest lawyers in the universe to kick
my buns in divorce court.

Karma strikes again. What goes around comes around, I thought.

Ghostwriter: Im deeply touched by your story, Dr. Whipple, and I


found you very fascinating as well, Bro. Bobcat. Perhaps well meet
again some other day.

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.

Ghostwriter: Aw, thats okay. Dont wanna get chastened nohow.

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!

Ghostwriter: At least the kids wont get chastened at Chasens, even if


the grownups will get grilled over by your spanking speech.

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!

Ghostwriter: Maybe Ill go catch me some catfish instead. No hard


feelings, Brother Bobcat. Oh, Dr. Whipple, I really do look forward to
another thrilling session tomorrow afternoon, and a thousand thanks
for squeezing me into your busy schedule today.
Dr. Whipple: Glad to oblige. Have a safe trip back to wherever you
came from. So long.

As I passed The Two Suits, I tried to avoid eye contact with them. I
felt their dagger-like stares behind my back.

Thank God tomorrow would be my last visit to the lions den!


Session Eight

Friday, August 21, 1:59 p.m.

I hope youre hungry today, Maria said as she met me out on the
porch. Theres a surprise waiting for you.

Ghostwriter: Well, I havent had lunch yet, and breakfast was a


cinnamon bun on the run.

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.

Ghostwriter (blushing): You writing a sex manual? Im shocked!

Dr. Whipple: Yes, I do believe itll be a hot item in Christian bookstores


all over the land: Daddys Bun in the Oven. And none of that plant a
watermelon seed in the potato patch nonsense. Ill start with the FUN-
damentals of the prospective bridegroom meeting the girls folks,
escorting her to the church social, treating her to ice cream, pulling
taffy at Grandmas house, strolling through the cow pasture. Gradually
Ill push the limits of a childs comfort zone as I progress to hand-
holding, letter-writing, miniature golf, skating parties, then the
proposal on bended knee.

Ghostwriter (facetiously): Wow, Ive never heard anything so risqu in


all my borned days! Sounds like a torrid sizzler already, but I suppose
youll eventually have to bite the bullet and describe the delights of the
wild wedding night.
Dr. Whipple: Thats my favorite part. Tammy, the fictional bride, is in
the motel bathroom getting ready while Ted, her new hubby, waits
expectantly in bed, reading his Sunday School quarterly. Timidly,
Tammy emerges through the bathroom door, wearing pink flannel P.J.s
and curlers. Ted almost passes out, because hes never seen any
woman in such a disgraceful state of undress except his own sisters.
Ted gets so immobilized from shock, nothing much happens for three
more chapters of cold showers. After striking out in bed, Ted goes to
his friend Fred for advice, a man who has six kids.

Ghostwriter (tartly): So how does Romeos bun baking pan out?

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: Ghostwriter, Im a preacher, not a pimp. God instilled


instincts in lovers to guide them. Just like that old tom cat in the
alleyway. My mission is to warn folks about hell and the horrible
punishment theyll suffer if they dont figure out the right answers for
themselves.

Ghostwriter: Ahem! Mind if I ask a pointed question?

Dr. Whipple: Fire away.

Ghostwriter: AhI get the impression you found it rather


embarrassing to write that particular book.

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.

Ghostwriter: In all seriousness, Dr. Whipple, thats supposed to be a


kids book youre writing. Do you have the knack for sensitively
teaching children how they came into existence? In order to write a
book, you should tailor your material to the maturity level of your
potential market, and research your material inside and out. Forgive
my frankness, but do you remember how you made your own babies?

Dr. Whipple: Admittedly, I barely remember the good old days. My


memorys getting foggier every day, Ghostwriter. I am 86. Theres a
lot I dont remember. Ive forgotten the names of half my relatives.
Ive forgotten where they all live. I dont even remember if some of
them are still alive. When I go into a room to get something, chances
are Ill forget what it was by the time I get there. Now what did you
just ask me?

Ghostwriter: I was wondering why small children needed to learn


about baking the birds and bees before they even got over their first
fixation with dinosaurs. But Im just curious about your birds and
bees. Did you and your honey make that bedroom tweet and buzz?
Dr. Whipple (scratching his chin, in deep thought): That was far away
and long ago in my recollection. The less I think about Willow and
what happened between us, the happier I am. Thats why Ive got this
memory block. All I can say is it wasnt as straightforward as baking a
batch of prune pancakes. It was a fiddly, fussy bother, and Ive
forgotten nine-tenths of it. My favorite part of the process was going
down to the kitchen for a great big peanut butter sandwich afterward.

Ghostwriter: Tastes better than a cigarette, I guess. Ahdid you feel a


twinge of guilt, even though the two of you were married?

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.

Ghostwriter: You have a fresh approach to presenting this topic, so I


cant wait to see Daddys Bun in the Oven in print. If that books half
as fascinating as its author, I wont be able to put it down till I finish it.
But as saucy as that book sounds, Ill wear a blindfold when I reach
that chapter where the fun hits the fan.

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.

Ghostwriter: Cant wait.

Dr. Whipple (gesturing toward a big spread): Before we left Bubbas


yesterday, we got some extra pork barbecue, along with their famous
cole slaw and ranch beans. As you can see, its nicely arranged on a
refreshment table so we can dig in as we chat. I do hope youre
hungry.

Ghostwriter: Smells delicious. But I was expecting a less cordial


reception today after yesterdays heated debate.

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: To put it succinctly, it was extremely stimulating. Keep in


mind I hardly ever leave these premises except to attend church or
speaking engagements. Maria and Jose run all my errands to spare
me having to leave my peaceful haven of rest.

Ghostwriter: Sounds like your life is lived in relative seclusion.

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.

Ghostwriter: Jesus didnt cloister Himself in a monastery. He touched


lepers who werent clean enough to go to church. And he ate with the
seediest sinners in society.

Dr. Whipple said nothing but his mouth twitched peculiarly and his
eyes twinkled at me. I could read his thoughts.

Dr. Whipple: Before we partake of this bounty, we ought to thank the


Lord. Bow your head and keep your hands folded on your lap.

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!

Ghostwriters unspoken impression: Once the exalted High Priest of


Punitive Paddles had finished commissioning the devil to carry out his
corrective curse, I detected a strong smell of sulfur from the bowels of
hell. Or, maybe Roscoes.

Dr. Whipple (switching gears): O Lord, lift Your hedge of protection


from this adulterous couple who have ruined all my hope of earthly
happiness and forced me to wait till heaven to receive the bliss I so
richly deserve. Let the devil make mincemeat out of Willow and
Sherwood. Let the darkest principalities and powers of the infernal
nether regions unleash all their fury against them, sparing only their
lives, as Jobs life was spared by the skin of his teeth. Let this guilty
couple be cast on a bed of sickness, unable to further indulge their
unholy passions. And when Your chastening hand falls heavily upon
these stubborn backsliders and theyre wracked with agony on that
bed of affliction, help Willow remember all the loving lessons I taught
her in the Christian home we once shared. Amen.

He MUST be reincarnated from the Grand Inquisitor, I thought.


By the time Dr. Whipple finished blessing his enemies, our food was as
icy as the preachers heart, but I didnt mention that. The cole slaw
had wilted from the weird vibes emanating from this spiritual sorcerer.
But I didnt want to offend my host. I had dined in locations far more
bizarre than this maniac mausoleum. Cautiously I piled pork barbecue
on a bun and bit down. With a cheesy smile I told Dr. Whipple it was
better than any Id enjoyed down South.

Dr. Whipple: Brother Bobcat is a gastronome with a trained palate, and


the first thing he does when he visits an area is investigate the local
barbecue. Speaking of barbecue, I did mention yesterdays excursion
was very stimulating.

Ghostwriter: Please tell me all about it. Im all ears.

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.

God grant him the humility he just prayed for, I thought.

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.

Ghostwriter: So how did the devil disturb your tranquility?

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.

Or perhaps you should get out of the butt business, I thought.

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.

Yeah, effective enough to get em on Prozac! I thought.

Dr. Whipple: Miraculously, I calmed the fellow down enough to hold a


coherent conversation with him, though the food was getting cold.
Apparently he got the wrong idea after I showed him my catalogue of
Woody Woodshed punitive products and described the spiritual
benefits of the Punitive Priesthood Ceremony, and the scriptural
significance of the Paddling Priest leading the child down to the Inner
Spanktum for spiritual restoration.

Ghostwriter: So was the man impressed by your sales pitch?

Dr. Whipple: Hardly. He called me a deranged deviate, and said it was


none of my blankety-blank beeswax how he raised his own kids! Then
his wife verbally abused me. She called me a crazy crackpot who
needed to be locked up! I told the man that as priest over his own
home, it was his duty to bring his own wife under subjection, and if
necessary, to mete out loving discipline to her as well, in order to
sanctify her soul. The man looked boiling mad and said, Id chasten
your chops for telling me to slug my own wife, but Ill let you off cause
youre a sad old man who wants everybody else to be miserable.
Youre just a flea-brained flake! A brainwashed Bible junkie who needs
to go get a life!
One of the toddlers laughed at me and threw my book on the floor.
His big brother swung his elbow, spilled Coke all over it and swore it
was an accident. I said I didnt believe him, and he should get a
spanking for desecrating holy things. Well, the dad got up, all 300
pounds of him and said, You callin my son a liar for desecratin a
Coke?
At that moment The Two Suits came to my rescue. Both of them
together must weigh at least 900 pounds, so needless to say, they
struck the fear of god in that rude gentleman. Before they could say
much, Bro. Bobcat appeared and chewed the man and his wife out for
being rotten parents on their way to hell, and what was wrong with
America today that kids are allowed to talk back to their parents and
make fun of Gospel preachers who are trying to save their souls?
Many folks in the crowd watched Bro. Bobcat on Pay & Pray TV, and
they cheered him on. The family got up to leave. The manager
rushed out of the kitchen and begged us to leave, as we were
upsetting his customers. He said hed give us our meal free of charge
if they could just box it up to go. But Bro. Bobcat drove a hard
bargain. He only agreed to go if the manager threw in, free of charge,
five extra pounds of pork barbecue, plus cole slaw, buns and beans.
Thats what youre eating today.

Ghostwriter: As someone whos experienced poverty, Ive learned the


value of a cheap meal, and it always tastes better when you dont have
to pay for it!

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?

Ghostwriter: Horrific calories, but it does take energy to carry on a


conversation. Cant resist it.
As I savored sinful billows of creamy delight, Dr. Whipple poured out
his heart to me, blissfully unaware that carefully concealed robotic
bugs were recording every facial expression, every word.

Dr. Whipple: Just like youre enjoying that pie, my ex is luxuriating in


the pleasures of sin for a season.

Ghostwriter: I doubt this heavenly pie will send me to hell, though.

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.

Just like the Pharisee in Jesus parable, I thought.

Ghostwriter: Well, on to other forbidden appetites. Before Willow ran


away with Sherwood, was she aware that he was a billionaires son?

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!

Ghostwriter (coughing): It must have been done for Sherwood, so he


could love-tap them. As you said, love is willing to suffer all things.
Dr. Whipple: Yeah, and all her suffering paid off. When Sherwood saw
that rejuvenated Jezebel prancing around his pew, he couldnt get
enough of discussing the weather with her. But he wasnt looking up
at the sky. He was feasting his eyes on flesh! Id begged Willow to
wear her skirts at least one inch below the knee and a little looser, but
she made sure all her outfits clearly defined her figure. I guess she
figured shed suffered so much to lose weight shed earned the right to
strut her stuff. Whenever Willow knew he would be at church, shed
lure him into the vestibule to flash her legs at him. Plastic surgery
had eliminated the cartilage callouses on her knees, caused by years of
floor scrubbing. She had full body tanning treatment to hide stretch
marks from having herI mean, our, babies. Id have been happy to
live with her wrinkles, lumps and bumps the rest of our lives, so long
as she was beautiful on the inside, where it really counts.

Ghostwriter: Up to a point, caring for personal appearance helps build


proper self-esteem, which was obviously lacking in Willows life. But
when people hate their own bodies, they set out to destroy the way
God made them. They wage war on the enemy they see in their mirror,
through calorie cutting, obsessive surgery, excessive exercise, vile
vitamin shakes and a host of other self-improvement tortures. As
you said, you learned to make peace with the perceived imperfections
of Willows body. However, you might have softened that harsh image
of her in your mind, similar to the way an artist gently smoothes over
the blemishes of a person he paints. The eye of faith sees beauty in
Gods children at any age.

Dr. Whipple: But God doesnt want us to lie to ourselves. If


somethings ugly, its ugly. End of story.

Ghostwriter: Youre contradicting yourself! You just said youd have


been happy if Willow hadnt changed her looks. Would you have
wanted Whipple to reject you for your physical imperfections, or would
you have wanted her to focus on the inner qualities which persuaded
her to marry you?

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.

Little wonder, I thought.

Ghostwriter: So where would Willow deposit her royalty money?

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.

Ghostwriter: And did you often tap Willows phone calls?

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: So what was your response to that allegation?


Dr. Whipple: Id smile and say its easier to cave in to the crowd than
carry your cross. And Willows wicked family was thrilled to see her
waste all that money on so-called self-improvement. Although flashing
her flesh in church was a bit much even for her liberal parents. I heard
rumors they threw a big party to celebrate after Willow left me. Then,
after Sherwood struck it rich and he proposed to her even before we
started divorce proceedings, the confetti really flew.

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.

Ghostwriter: Perhaps Willow was tired of morning sickness, weight


gain, labor pains, night feedings followed by early rising, dirty diapers,
and feeling like a baby machine, and she just needed a little space to
develop as a person?

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: No need to be sarcastic now. Youre acting just like


Willow when she yelled back at me that the only reason I wanted more
babies was so I would, and I quote: have more backsides to blister. I
ran out of the bathroom in tears, devastated that she could ever make
such an abominable accusation against her holy husband.

Or an accurate accusation against her horrible husband, I thought.


Ghostwriter: So a deep chasm grew between you. She thought you
were being too strict a disciplinarian and she resented having no voice
in the rearing of her own children.

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: Some years later, I traced Spankys unlisted phone


number. He said he was getting treated for PTSD because of me, so he
never wanted to see me again. What on earth does PTSD stand for?

Ghostwriter (facetiously): Post-Torture Severe Depression. Now tell


me beating kids teaches them about the love of that same Jesus Who
didnt take a stick to tax collectors and prostitutes!

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.

Ghostwriter (laconically): A pain in the brain?

Dr. Whipple: Close enough. But how could that kid badmouth me like
that! After all those years I blessed him!

With a belt, I thought.

Dr. Whipple: I wept, I cried, I pleaded with those children to repent of


their cruelty and disrespect toward their own dad. But Spanky called
me a hypocrite for complaining about cruelty after I allegedly rear-
ended him with Woody Woodshed until he had to go to the emergency
room for internal hemorrhaging. Even the doctors were mad at me!
Sherwood must have bribed those damned doctors to bear false
witness against me! Everything is against me!
Ghostwriter: Even God?

Dr. Whipple: I wonder sometimes. Every morning Id rise at five to


give glory to God and serve Him with tears, prayers and deeds of
kindness sixteen hours a day, seven days a week, every day of the
year! Every blow I ever inflicted with Woody Woodshed was for the
eternal good of those children! God told me to do it through His
faithful servant Solomon! I wanted to be as wise as Solomon so I
determined to obey all his wise counsel! Why does God subject His
own children to such heart-wracking trials! Oh, why did the Lord allow
such unjust persecution to destroy my life and ministry? Has he no
pity for His own children?

Probably more than you had for your own, I thought.

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: Theres no other explanation. Sherwood isnt half the


husband I was to her. After we married, I didnt force Willow out of our
home to work for even one day. And thats how she repaid me.

Ghostwriter: Did it leave a deep impression on the children to see how


different their mother looked after dieting and surgery?

Dr. Whipple: Although I had trained my children never to ridicule their


parents in any way or theyd suffer severe consequences, I detected
their disgust every now and then, in the shake of a shoulder, a roll of
the eye, a glum look. That wanton woman was no longer their beloved
mom. Speaking from hindsight, Id say what hurt me more than
anything is they all chose to live with her and Sherwood, not with me.

Well, it sure didnt hurt their hind ends, I thought.

Ghostwriter: Divorce is always a very sad business. Surely there must


have been a time when you and Willow were very much in love.

Dr. Whipple: No romance was ever sweeter than ours. Ill never forget
our favorite courtship song. Shine On, Shine On Harvest Moon.

Ghostwriter: Did you ever sing it to her?

Dr. Whipple: My singing voice sounds like a clogged kitchen pipe. It


was my winning smile that won her heart.

His Count Dracula grin, I thought.

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: Im going to be straight with you, Dr. Whipple. Im


gaining deeper insight into the inspiration behind your Spanking
ministry! Now Im fully aware of why your disciplinary doctrine
developed into a flagellation fetish! Middle-aged, stretch-marked flab
didnt fan your fires of desire. So you beat bouncier bongos to make
your kids sing a jarring noise unto the Lord. You wanted more
cabooses to correct. Thats why you wanted Willow to make more
babies. Did that compensate your insatiable libido for the gratification
missing from your marital bed? Did Woody Woodshed excite ecstasies
more sublime than nibbling on Willows chocolate negligee? Did the
Punitive Priest get what he needed when he proceeded to start that
march to his chastening chamber to fan a can? Besides the erotic rush
your gonads got out of chastening cheeks, what sort of spiritual
arousal PERV-aded your soul in your Inner Spanktum?

Dr. Whipple: What asinine allegations from a corrupt cranium crammed


with carnal crap! After all that free barbecue I fed you! Get your crude
keister out of here before I sick Roscoe on you!

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!

Dr. Whipple (choking on raw rage): You cant prove that!

Ghostwriter: Your malignant ministry is built on this foundation:

The seat of sin aint in the heart


Its in the part that sits and ****s
Its satans seat of authority
Where he creates his deviltry
So if youre smart and pure of heart
Youll chasten satans
Fudge factory.

Dr. Whipple: And it is a seat of sin! A part of the anatomy created to


sit and hear the Word of God rebels against authority and comes under
satans control! Every foul, stinking sin originates in the nether
regions of the body, and I can use this Bible to prove it!

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.

Dr. Whipple: Satan, I rebuke you in the name of Jesus!

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?

Dr. Whipple rapped Roscoes rump with a newspaper till he staggered


up and stretched. Apparently piqued, the pooch peed on the
preachers pants leg. Dr. Whipple got his Woody Woodshed Pet
Punisher out of a china cabinet. Panting with rage, he stumbled and
dropped it when Maria (apparently) tripped on the rug and bumped
into him, leaking lemonade all over the punitive preacher, who couldnt
reach the taser torturer before the dog grabbed it and ran out the
open door. Out on the porch, Roscoe ceremoniously inflicted the most
undignified punishment possible on the Pet Punisher.

Roscoe, Maria, and I high-fived each other on a job well done.

Ghostwriter: Sorry I had to be so rough on him, Maria.

Maria (whispering): He had it coming, Ghostwriter. And dont worry. I


know where all the bugs are in that room. I planted em while the big
boss was at church. Ill send em off to you real soon so you can show
the whole wide world what bad religion does to kids.

Ghostwriter: Thank you, Maria, for being such an awesome agent.

I left the morose old minister moping in the disciplinary darkness hed
designed for himself.

The End

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