Perhaps you have heard (of course you have) that Brother Ethernan’s little twit brain decided to take up the art of public speaking, as though it were basket weaving. Public speaking! Little Ethy? Elocution? Why even when he is not stuffing mashed potatoes into his greasy hog face his lisp makes it so hard to understand anything at all he is blurting out that he may as well be a cable TV station after midnight, just gone to static.

OHHHHHH MY BAD, was that a sinful anachronism? Well then I’ll say seven Ave Marias later and God will fucking forgive my ass. Just so you know, God shows me the future in my dreams.

Elocution? My goddamn word. Brother Ethernan’s favorite word is ER! Errr, Hail err Maria, full of err grace!

Jesus fucking Christ I hate listening to people’s voices, but Brother Ethernan’s puerile little chipmunk (chipmonk! get it? no pun intended this time either) drone is my private version of hell. Ethy the Chipmonk!

Well look motherf*&kers, monotony is a sin, as expressly stated in Dale Carnagey’s exquisite 1915 monograph The Art of Public Speaking, right next to only partially wiping your ass with leaves.

Yes, God shows me entire libraries when I dream, don’t you worry your little head over it.

What about pitch, pace, pause, power, and most of all pathos? That is what your speechgiving, Brother Ethy, and in fact everything you do in this world lacks most: pathos! PEOPLE. SIMPLY. DO. NOT. CARE. BECAUSE YOU FAIL TO PROVOKE IN YOUR AUDIENCE EVEN THE SLIGHTEST. TREMOR. OF EMPATHY.

Everyone is just sitting with their robes on their hands to keep from strangling you.

Hear that, Brother Ethernan? THAT my young chipmonkish friend, is the sound of one-handed God applauding your oration.

That’s right, there would be no sound if one-handed God clapped. That is the exact fucking joke.

And as a matter of fact, there IS no sound.

Get thyself to a nunnery, Ethy, or if not then please at the very least try to stay out of the big monks’ way.

Shoo shoo, off you go now.

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