h a l f b a k e r y
Not so much a thought experiment as a single neuron misfire.
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This idea popped up on an episode of NPR's game show
WAIT WAIT DON'T TELL ME - they were talking about a bus
where the driver will hear confessions... and one of the
contestants mentioned, "Well, what about a tanning bed? If
we're gonna double-task..."
And that struck me as a great half-baked
(no pun intended)
idea. After all, the tanning bed could serve as a good
motivator - a mild reminder of the eternal torments that
await the unrepentant. The confessor could adjust the
amount of heat as was appropriate to the conversation.
Penance could be extracted, or mercy shown, and the
penitent emerges with a nice rosy glow - or slightly
||So who exactly are you pouring your guts out to? Isn't that
the whole concept behind confessionals? Someone other than
God has to hear your sins. Uhmm, I ain't telling no tanning
bed attendant my dirtiest, darkest secrets. No way. Unless, of
course, there was a camera involved and we could make a
realty show out of it. And then I would become rich and
famous from it. Wow, do I sound shallow. Hmmm.
||Why stop at a tanning bed? Surely penitents would rather suffer now than in the afterlife. Let's expand it to all forms of self-flagellation. From dripping wax to boiling oil, from candles to branding irons. From needles to iron maidens. From wet noodles to horsewhips.
||// boiling oil, branding irons, horsewhips, et al //
||The resulting shrieks, curses and subsequent blaspheming
would add to the list of sins; the confession would feed on
itself. Vote for Pay Per View +
||Beautiful, tight-leather-clad confessors available for a small extra charge.
||"Whip me, Sister, for I have sinned...."?