Bondage For Beginners

A few days after I arrived in Jesustan, Oppie di Mummy drew my attention to a wonderful catalogue offering a 'Bondage for Beginners' kit. I spent more time than a sane, well-adjusted adult ought to have trying to discover if there was an 'Intermediate Bondage' and 'Advanced Bondage' kit.

And then, an epiphany: Bondage for Beginners is not a toy. It is an epistomological tool.

Piety, central to the culture of Jesustan, expresses itself through the incessant collection of sacramental relics, objects of veneration, and sacred bric-a-brac. Of these, again against my better judgment, I already have several of these: a toothbrush powered by two batteries which spins around manically; advertisements for a gadget which enables the more efficient grilling of beer-butt chicken, made by roasting a chicken with a half-empty can of Miller Lite stuck up its innards; tea made by a California-based Sikh mystic which is claimed to cure depression; and, of course, a catalogue which contains a convenient toll-free number where I can, if I so choose, order the Bondage for Beginners kit.

Without knowing it, and just weeks into a subterranean life in Jesustan, I am a convert. Chosen. Or bonded. Take your pick.

A footnote on the toothbrush: it does have its redeeming features. My landlord is convinced by its loud whirring that I am a sexual deviant, and therefore best avoided; my parents, who visited some time ago, that I care for my teeth and can therefore be left alone to care for my life. All is well in Jesustan.