Hotel Hamilton

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As Fryday’s regular readers know, this blog is hardly enamoured with Hamilton. It has even been known to be mildly critical of the city, though always with compassion and sympathy for those forced to live there. Last week I was there and whilst I met some lovely people I found little else to change my perception of the place. In fact there were two distinct occurrences that simply reinforced my view that Hamilton is both surreal and sinister. The first is that for only the second time since I acquired it my GPS gave up the ghost—giving me totally erratic, repetitive and inaccurate information. That may not sound like much to you, but consider: the only other time it behaved in such a manner was also while in Hamilton. If Google Maps cannot comprehend the place, how can I? The second occurrence (one perhaps of my own making, given that you get what you pay for) was that I stayed in the worst hotel I have ever experienced. Now, Fryday is not in the business of name and shame (unless of course you are Donald Trump) so I won’t name the hotel. But consider this: the receptionist, though pleasant, spoke very little english; though the hotel boasted a “restaurant” I was not allowed to sit in it—I was curtly instructed that: “Not possible. You go to room. Get room service there. Pay three dollar.” The only heating in the room was a very small fan heater that emitted little heat and a lot of noise. And the shower? A shower curtain in this day and age? And as for the water temperature? It took fully four minutes for it to rise to warm. Warm, mind you, not hot. Never hot. Not capable. And then it fluctuated, as if someone elsewhere had turned on their warm tap. And finally the fixed shower head—in itself an anomaly in modernity—was positioned barely above chest height. Hamilton is the BDSM—bondage and discipline, sadism and masochism—capital of New Zealand. It is where the real Fifty Shades of Grey is played out. It happens nightly in Hamilton. Don’t ask me how I know. I do. If that is your thing, go there. However, if you are not yet brave enough to indulge yourself in the full excess of BDSM, particularly masochism, and a simple sample of inflicted pain will suffice, then I suggest you simply stay at a Hamilton Hotel—if your GPS can find one.

As Cecil C. Sackrider Sees It: Laieth with the lambs

As we were lying in bed after last night’s consummation, Billy-Jo and I were talking about women’s role in the world. We are enlightened people—God be praised—we believe that women have a role. But it is troubling. Billy-Jo, so sweet and innocent, barely out of her teens and often barely, is confused, as I know that many young women whom I administer too are. For years women have held to the belief that Our Lord God’s edict is that their role is to revere men. No other role before that, after God, saith the Scriptures. And man shall come only after God. And man shall come often. Is the Scripture’s instruction to women. It is God’s word, women’s role. So ordained. Yet it is God’s will a woman shall be President, with domain over man. How can this be so, Billy-Jo asks, her eyes glistening in that way Satan tests me each night in the candle light. How can it be that a woman should be subjected to such a sin of pecuniary that she would forego her role to man and God and embrace naked ambition, she asks of me. I say unto her, in a most loving way, to think not of naked ambition. Not yet. Too soon. A minute more. And pecuniary is not the word she is looking for. So sweet. So innocent. But she is right to question. Has God turned His back on America? Or is Hillary Clinton His gift to America? I say unto Billy-Jo that it is the latter. For if it is not to be Hillary Clinton, it is to be Donald Trump—the demon’s bastard child. Cursed be the Profit. God shall have no demigod before Him. So he has sent us Hillary Clinton. Who is no god at all. Just a woman. And by placing before us a woman, God has reminded us of the strength of subservience. Obedience to His will. As he gave us his Son, he now gives us a woman—not to serve, but as a servant. And we will be a supplicant not to her but to God. For it is God saying to man, reminding man, through this woman, that man should devote himself only to the devotion of God and women the devotion of man. So it written. And Billy-Jo sees the light, under that candle-light. And shows her devotion.

•           For a list of God’s Gifts, as delivered personally by God to Pastor Cecil C. Sackrider (handwriting verified), send a check or money order (minimum US$99.99) to the Cecil C. Sackrider Ministry 1069E West 35 Street Montgomery Alabama United States of America, Zip Code 666.  Checks should be made out to CASH (Congregation Against Satan’s Handiwork). All donations over US$50,000 go into the draw to win a personal phone call from Our Lord, as delivered by Pastor Sackrider.