Then I go out to the pot patch and some squirrels have nibbled my smoking stash. They hang around looking at me funny for getting them high.

I go into the shack and then my ole lady starts in on me for being a lazy, no-good Coldplay fan.
Since my life sucks, maybe I should be an animal in my next life and just shit and eat pot plants all day long? Bless that, Chris.

I implore the Great Chris Martin to pray a blessing of exuberant compassion on me so that I may also acquire a hard-working fraulein to milk the cows and scatter the chicken feed. It would also be helpful that she be a good cook and do windows.

I can promise her a good life on the farm and chores from morning till dusk! No illegals or paperless refuges please! Bless ME, Chris! Viva!

Yet Nay-my flock is out of control.
I got so many baby ducks, hens, goats, & sheep and no one to help me tend them. The Cows in the meadow need milking; the pigs in the sty cry for more, more! I need a strong man to tame to horses!

Please Saintly Coldplayer-may you also Bless this poor woman of the earth, that I might find a righteous MAN to deliver me from my endless toil.

Might I be as fecund as the animals that bray and peck the ground for scraps? Is there a Coldplay match-making service (not those debaser wankers over at coldplaying.com-please!)that I might join to meet the magic man of my dreams?

Saint Chris: I pray that someday I may have my own Apples and Moses that I may search the Old Testament for equally obscure and wacky but creative names to call my own offspring. Much as you and dear Gwennie did! Oh Great Soul Master-I yearn to hear the cries of the babes-not the screechings of the roosters at dawn! I ask forbearance and blessings in abundance that you might placate a poor soul who loves your piano titterings and beautiful songs of love.

Saint Chris: Please send me a man right now! Thanks be to you! Amen.

please bless my household holy one. though the furniture is tattered and shredded; the rugs overrun with fleas + ticks; the health dept. constantly at the door-we seek out the peace that comes from our pet prayer to chris. please chris-i ask you to stop my cats from having any more cats-it is against my religion (catholic) to spay or neuter them. can you please tell the cats to stop having sex in my house?

god is great! saint chris walks on clouds with the angels. he blesses all the creatures from the creeping things to the biggest alligator in florida ready to eat you alive. sing praises of glory to our animal protector. amen. he is our christmas lights.

I shalll now recant the entire mystical experience I then had, in which the yet unborn St Martin of Assisi appeared in a vision. But first a few facts about St Francis. Supoosedely birds would actually land on his head and eat lunch! Hey St Chris of Assisi, did you know a flock of birds are eating your hat for lunch? And all Saint Chris did say is (it is said, by those who were there): Worry not, for it is all part of a plan.

Also, as a young St Fancis, he was deathly afraid of lepers as being a leper wasn’t considered a socially acceptable job back then (as it is now in certain Western Islamic Democracies / white people can be lepers too)). And the thought of him becomming one, posibley by maybe having sex with a lepper was just too horrible to contemplate.

As fatewood have it, one day long ago, in a place far away, around noon, on a hot summer day in Italy, St Francis turned a street corner and was confronted by his most unearthly nightmare fear he ever would feel. Panic set in as he realized he had unwittlingly walked straight into the middle of a large gathering of leppers holding protest about their lot in life.

At this moment though was when St Francis attained Nirvanahood when he realized that unless he learn to physically / emotionally embrace lepers as he might family, he would be bound to this world forever by his fear of lepers and this could really jam up his karmic cycle.

St Chris Of Martin had the same but similar experience of entering Nirvanahood when He realized (one night, alone at a bar) that all the women at the various concerts (he has performed for various and numerous pet welfare foundations) who gave him their phone number want to be his new friend (and he did not have to needlessly sit alone drinking cold tea). Thusly did St Chris of Assisi surely enter Nirvanahood.

And that’s about it. I almost forgot… in the vision, St Martin of Assis said that all living creatures are nothing more than the face of God in pet form. And my pet Lawrence likes to sleep on an unopend cd of Prospekts March, which greatly improves the quality of his dreams he claims.

The Church is righteous in it’s recognition of St Martin and The Great Works he has and continues to do for our best little friends ever. And In that spirit, Lawrence and I are going to the pound tomorrow to pick up a new pet female. Thank you for the inspiration St Chris.

May the Chris be with you as again we enter the month of John Lennon where the cold and deep snow of human miscalculation continues to blanket mankind as we pass from consciousness into a future unknwn.

Viva Los Critters.