In responsum to a recent Silverwolf blog in favor of a strict “wall of separation” between church and state, Blue Dawg brought up the criticism that government and the private sector were so mixed in our current culture that it was hard to sometimes distinguish the two. Well, Silverwolf didn’t think that was quite a sufficient reason to invalidate his arguments on this issue, but, in his penchant for playing Devil’s Advocate, he tried to think up several situations where it might apply. And soon, after a cup of “Wolfmen’s” Brand Wolfbane (“The No.1 Choice Amongst Discriminating Wolves Throughout North America and the Artic Ice Shelf”), he came up with the situation of: You’re driving in your Wolfwagon on a public road. You say a prayer inside the car. Since the road was paid for with public funds, and you wouldn’t be on that spot if not for the public funds paying for that road, then when you mumble a prayer, or even a say something like, “Oh, G-d, don’t let me be late for the appointment.”, since you are situated on the road and could be said to be “established”, you have violated the separation of church and state.
Or howzabout: your standing on the public sidewalk, mending your picket fence. While smashing a nail, you manage to smash your own nail, and exclaim aloud so that the neighbors may hear it, “G-d damn it!”. Now, as this may be viewed as a prayer, or supplication to the Supreme Deity, one of the neighbors, overhearing this oath, picks up the phone and calls the anti-Religious police. And, in the end, you are jailed for praying on a public street, since you used the sidewalk to “establish” yourself in religious activity.
And there Silverwolf has given his opponents on this issue all the ammunition they may need to engage him on the forensic battlefield of debate. Commenceth to fire!
But enough of this levity. It’s time to relate to you a serious dream Silverwolf had, a couchmar, a nightmare, in which he was dragged into the “Anti-Religious Court”. It went thusly:
After closing his eyes, Silverwolf suddenly found himself in the County Anti-Religious Court, where cases of attempted overthrow of separation of church and state were tried. Handcuffed and shackled, Silverwolf stood before Judge Thyck, and heard the accusation: “Silverwolf you have been charged with using the religious exclamation “Land o’ Goshen”, taken directly from the King James Version, on a public thoroughfare. How do you plead, guilty or not guilty, and excuse me a second Silverwolf while I get my black hood which I need in Capital cases.”
“Oh, sure, Judge Thyck, take your time, I know you suffer from gout due to the excessive quantities of port you consume every night while signing Death Warrants. Please don’t rush on my behalf.” (The Judge returns.)
“Now, how do you plead, Silverwolf, and remember, your fate may depend on it?”
“Oh, sure, I’ll keep it in mind. Well, what really happened was this Your Honor:
Silverwolf found himself wandering on the public streets of town, paid for by the taxpayers. He encountered Blue Dawg, who told him he was thinking of swimming to Roumania, to work some extra weight off, and stock up on their remarkable lettuces. And then Blue Dawg asked him what body of water he’d have to cross to get there. And Silverwolf told him. It’s that simple. The four undercover anti-Religious Police who overheard him, misunderstood what he said. So, Silverwolf, he pleads Not Guilty, Your Honor Judge Thyck.”
Judge Thyck’s brow creased. He wrinkled his nose, and raised his upper lip in indecision. Something contractionary seemed to be working furiously behind his eyes. He lowered his head, then raised it, then formed the crease of a smile, which then promptly disappeared. The brows moved from vertical to horizontal indentures. The judge lowered his head again. A silence of thirty seconds ensued. Silverwolf’s heart beat a savage tattoo. And then the judge raised his head, one saw the crease of the smile, spread, grow, and finally engulf the well-fed chubby cheeks of jurisprudence.
“Oh I get it!” Judge Thyck broke into mirthful laughter. “Case dismissed.”
Silverwolf awoke with the sweat pouring off his muzzle, which takes some doing, since Wolves never sweat.
Hoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwww! — Silverwolf