The New Year for Telemarketing Excellence

The year 2006 was one of personal growth for myself. Under the advice of counsel, reinforced by the stern admonitions of the judiciary, I forswore my taste and talents for revenge, spite, and vengence. This is a hard lesson for a telemarketer such as myself. The road was long, frequently uphill, and beset with tempting targets.

The priesthood of the Snake God Set aided me with a set of principles and supernatural laws of thermodynamics that made even a crude barbarian such as myself smile. I have, on three notable occasions, held back my hands from the throats of those that thwarted my ambitions. Being of Norman-Sicilian-Canadian heritage, such control is remarkable. Surely, few descendants of the bloodline of the House of Hauteville can claim such patience. My heirloom arsenal of Commando weapons has edged from frequent use to antique collectibles. My multi-cultural family of poisons, slow and quick, painful and serene, has gathered dust. But I have found a more satisfying form of vindication, as promised to all Capricorns who seek to evolve from Hungry Sales Wolf to the sublime degree of Hungry Sales Crocodile: patience.

Patience. Yes, I sat on my hands and let the anger of those infinite beings squish those I also wanted squished. And, to my delight, those infinite beings entertained me with cruelty and sophistication far beyond my mortal lust for revenge. I was delighted! Oh, how they suffered! It was great! And, completely without the possibility of prison or punishment! It made me smile. And who can smile best, but the toothy crocodile?

Pilgrimage to Crocodillyopolis. In honor of a vow I took when a certain individual took the fast exit down down down an elevator shaft, completely without physical encouragement from myself, I am taking myself on a spiritual journey to the mystical city of Crocodillyopolis. This is the holy city of the cult of the Snake God Set located on the waters of the River Styx here in Ontario. Founded by renegade Freemasons in the eighteenth century fleeing religious prosecution, the temple and adjoining monastary is devoted to pleasures of the flesh. There I will make an offering of those things most precious to the Snake God: Credit Cards; Visa, MasterCard, and American Express.

You also may share in my Good Fortune. Like a content village of Crocodile-Canadians, we can take turns eating the tasty bloated rotten carcasses that the happy Snake God Set sends down the river as a perpetual banquet of diversity to where we relax on the muddy bank, sunning our bellies under the hot sun. Send me your money. Come with me on a pilgrimage to the City of the Crocodile.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this.

crossposted at Dustmybroom, where Templars fear to tread.