"Who was it sent my name to those hair-restorer quacks?  Dorcas, maybe?  Whoever it was, God knows - and she had better keep a sharp eye out for bears.  I might turn pious in my dotage and start enjoying divine protection.  But I shan't give you any more samples.  The Bible is loaded with such stuff; read it and find out.  Crimes that would turn your stomach are asserted to be either divinely ordered or divinely condoned... along with, I must add, a lot of hard common sense and some pretty workable rules for social behavior.  I am not running down the Bible; it stacks up pretty well as sacred writings go.  It isn't a patch on the sadistic, pornographic trash that goes by the name of sacred writings among the Hindus.  Or a dozen other religions.  But I'm not singling out any of them for condemnation, either; it is entirely conceivable that some one of these mutually contradictory mythologies is the literal word of God... that God is in truth the sort of bloodthirsty paranoid who would rend to bits forty-two children for the crime of sassing one of his priests.  Don't ask me about the Front Office's policies; I just work here.  My point is that Foster's New Revelation that you're so contemptuous of is pure sweetness-and-light as scripture goes.  Bishop Digby's Patron is a pretty good Joe; He wants people to be happy-happy here on Earth plus guaranteed eternal bliss in Heaven.  He doesn't expect you to chastise the flesh here and now in order to reap rewards after you're dead.  Oh no! this is the modern giant economy package.  If you like to drink and gamble and dance and wench - and most people do - come to church and do it under holy auspices.  Do it with your conscience free of any trace of guilt.  Really have fun at it.  Live it up!  Get happy!"