To partake or not to partakeI

regulars a new explanation everyday, each new one more outrageous than the last one.
I have apparently been the victim of untreatable embarrassing ailments, domestic abandonment, forced lodging at the pleasure of the state and evasion of some unpleasant fellows whose wealth I have unfairly redistributed to myself.
The truth is nothing so sensational. It is totally mundane. Even so, great a liver as the one that yours truly has been lucky enough to be born with sometimes just reaches a point when it needs a break. Besides, believe it or not, I was brought up in a church that observes lent and that habit has proved hard to break even as I rail against some of the shenanigans that go on in the house.
That is all folks; I have not been ill, divorced, arrested or evading creditors. I have simply been resting my liver in preparation for George’s memorial service which his daughter has faithfully arranged for this long weekend as promised.
I have been in charge of the preparations and I can assure you that our favourite brewer has delivered a whole truckload of mixed brews while a few good beasts ranging from chickens to a whole mombe are ready for the braai stands. And even better, there will be no sermons from sinners masquerading as saints.
I am certainly looking forward to this great memorial feast and there is something to be said for the habit of Lent. Abstinence certainly makes the heart fonder and I am sure that each sip will produce double the pleasure than if I were to get into the party with a hangover.
But before we get to that, I feel that I owe it to you my fellow drinkers to explain how I have been spending the past few weeks without the pleasure of your company. And with a religious holiday upon us it a most apt time even though for some of us it is just a welcome long break period.
I have been accused of hating the Christian community, blasphemy, heresy and have been condemned to burn in hell by self-appointed keepers of the gates of heaven. So I thought what better to do with my period of non-indulgence than revisit the church grounds and examine my convictions against some of the doctrines that proceed from there.
It will be well for me to state my unequivocal faith in God. That is not questionable. What is debatable for me and other like-minded fellows is the human interpretations that I have problems with.
And to prove that I am not the only one who doubts the validity of the human element, then just take a look at the amazing ambiguity called the Christian community. There is a new church born everyday and each adherent says they have the right spiritual key.
They cannot agree on which day should be reserved for worship and the Sabbath and other immaterial things like how many wives a man should keep and so forth.
But when I state that I am drinker and I question these man-made pronouncements that purportedly come from the mouth of God, I am reviled and abused.
I will take the Bible into account. Somewhere in there it says Jesus founded a church, I think you will agree. So how come many of those who profess to believe in the book have broken from the original church that brought the Bible and form their own churches?
This is not the only example of people adopting only the portions of the book and to hell with the sections they do not care for.
Even the issue of alcohol is another point. There are churches that expressly avoid indulgence therein but it is indisputable that in the Bible Jesus himself partook of wine. So whose law are they following, God or man?
So my crime is to ask how it can be the unquestioned word of God when those who claim to follow it walk such diverse paths.
This past week I really thought about it as I had a to socialise with a group of people that I find quite convivial and likeable even though they do not subscribe to the notion that the process of fermentation is a great improvement on nature.
So there we were having some of the wittiest conversations that it has ever been my pleasure to take part in while having food and drink. The first part I had no problem with, it was the second item that almost made me cry.
Having been offered a choice of fizzy drinks, fruit juices and water, I opted for red grape juice as the closest port to home and alas, I learnt the bitter lesson that a lizard is not a crocodile!
I took a gulp instead of a sip and must have presented a sight to the body that I was chatting to at that point. She politely asked if there was something wrong.
I could hardly explain to the dear lady that the taste of grapes unfermented had caused a system shock and I was in danger of going into acute shock. I believe any uninitiated person taking a gulp of undiluted whisky would experience exactly the same reaction.
There comes a point, as has just happened to me in the past few weeks, in every drinker’s life when the body demands that you get on the wagon.
When that happens, take my advice, stick to water, just plain water. It really does taste better than most liquids sold in various containers under the all-encompassing umbrella term beverages.
So meanwhile happy Easter, whatever it may mean to you.
For Bra Gee and the regulars, it is one long memorial service for the departed George who has proved an improved drinking mate in death than in life, for now he provides the drinks without the necessity of having to listen to his beliefs, troubles, aches or whatever topic drinkers inflict upon each other with in the name of conversation.
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