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June 15, 2007
The Jogger's Prayer
Almighty God, as we sail with pure aerobic grace and striped orthotic feet past the blind portals of our fellow citizens, past their chuckroast lives and their necrotic cardiovascular systems and rusting hips and slipped discs and desiccated lungs, past their implacable inertia and inability to rise above the fully pensioned world they live in and to push themselves to the limits of their capacity and achieve the White Moment of slipping through The Wall, past their cruisomatic cars and upholstered lawn mowers and their gummy-sweet children already at work like little fat factories producing arterial plaque, the more quickly to join their parents in their joyless bucket-seat landau ride toward the grave--help us, dear Lord, we beseech Thee as we sail past this cold-lard desolation, to be big about it.
I ran across this in Russell Baker's Book of American Humor.
Posted by joke du jour at June 15, 2007 08:01 PM
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