The only good piece of advice that my father ever told me was that the people in church aren’t any better than the people that reside outside of there. Rather than the lessons prescribed by the scriptures, I think that many just following the strictures think they are all perfectly fine — and not only that, but they are indeed furthermore the chosen ones/good. They’d walk over, or in fact quite coldly and callously step on, a man lying prostrate — in a sorry state of condition — just lying there on the street. To some such visages, undoubtedly, are nothing more than signposts of what they might have become: had they not worked hard, played by the rules, and dutifully attended that banal, dreary, boring and humdrum Sunday morning mass each week. Well, I’d suspect that quite a few have done that, and they ended up just like the aforementioned prostrate indigent, sick as a dog beggar that thur lying on the street. No doubt, this contemplation though, would never enter the pretty little unfiltered/unclouded heads, of many of those “angels” who envision themselves as divinely blessed just for the wages of attending a weekly service, and paying homage to a creator that there really isn’t even one shred of evidence out there that s/he even really ever does (or ever really has ever) lived, breathed or subsist.