Greetings, my fellow port swillers and happy Palm Sunday!

Yes, today we celebrate Jesus’s “triumphal” entry into Jerusalem amidst a cheering mob convinced that He was going to turn Pilate into a pumpkin and the Roman garrison into a bunch of white mice, and generally re-establish Israel as God’s Kingdom on Earth.  Less than a week from now, when He didn’t do any such thing, they were howling for his blood.   That’s why I say “triumphal”.  It’s really more tragic than anything else, as He knew perfectly well at the time.

At any rate, for all of ol’ Robbo’s supposed religiosity, today is one of those days on which he is caught out as the fraud that he really is, put to shame even by many small children in the pews.  Yes, the truth of the matter is that I have never learned how to fashion a cross out of a palm frond.

As a general rule, I am pretty clever with my hands.  But for some reason, knots and bows and things of that sort have always been hard for me.  Palm frond crosses go in that category.  Even when I look at step-by-step instructions complete with photographs, my braim tends just to seize up and my fingers go into digit-lock.

Ah, well.

We’re supposed to have a rayther nasty and raw afternoon here in the neighborhood of Port Swiller Manor, so I believe a fire later on today will be appropriate.  I will simply burn my frond (as is proper) in an untied state as I ponder the shallowness of my religious instruction.

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