Today's textual quest into the most esoteric shriven soul of humanity embraces drink. This is not an apricot nectar jaunt, nor a Pepsi battery acid plus treacle sip, nor will we quaff Lagavulin single malt uisge beatha. We are not brewing coffee or tea. We revile grievously overpriced half-liters of covert tap water. We disdain otter piss alcoholic Coors or Budweiser swills wrested from sprouted rice, violating Duke Wilhelm IV of Bavaria's 1516 Reinheitsgebot specifying solely barley, hops, and water (yeast later added, after discovered). We disavow "Harridan with a Hatchet" Kansan Carrie Nation and her peculiar antipathy toward applejack.

Jesus said: "If you believe in me, you will never thirst.... Rivers of living water will flow from your bellies" (John 4:14, deftly cribbed from Proverbs 5:15). Diuretic disciples aside, the Bible has been hackneyed through untold political intrigues and translations. We summon a more authoritative source: the 107 slokas (verses) of the Ayurveda in the Damar Tantra. East Indians were fabricating sacred texts before the date of Bishop Ussher's genesis. Their 330 million gods exercise both seniority and majority vote.

Forget the Juicy Juice. We are talking shivambu kalpa vidhi (drinking of Shiva's fountain to rejuvenate), and a Western practice christened amaroli. Those of you who want to pursue this obscure subject should fire up your Web browsers and surf and immerse yourselves in tinkling waterfalls of doctrine. Morarji Ranchhodji Desai of the Janata People's Party (i.e., Democrats), Indian prime Minister from 1977-1979, drank a liter each day of his "golden nectar of immortality." It was a splendid therapy popularized amongst Indian laity as "Morarji cola." He lived to be 99 years old (1896-1995).

"Diagnosis plays no practical part in disease treatment," John W. Armstrong wrote, "since most every known disease can be cured by this means." We are talking about the joys of urolagnia. Prime Minister Desai each day drank two pounds and more of his own urine. It is quite the New Age nearer my god to thee thing to do,, or enjoy it as an international dead tree edition, The Golden Fountain: The Complete Guide to Urine Therapy (Scottsdale, AZ: TriMedica Inc., 1996) by Coen van der Kroon. The massages are charming.

Let us commence by stating drinking urine is a generically intensely stupid thing to do however fashionable its metaphoric dialectic may be. Three billion years of evolution quite explicitly itemized what stays, what goes, and how - like being evolutionarily clever with advanced anatomical options to OEM cloacas. Folks sloppy about the relative placement of their privies and wells encounter diseases that cannot be "cured by this means." Any craft or guild with Veronica Mosher as its avatar is best avoided unless you avow very lax standards of personal hygiene.

Even somebody raised on Kraft Velveeta or Libby's Potted Meat Food Product must question the organoleptic aesthetics. Did Desai take it straight up foaming warm from the spout or on the rocks with a twist? A liter is a long swallow born of two turgid bladders. Why is fanaticism always bereft of semi-sweet chocolate, creme brulee, tenderloin steaks, and Maine lobster?

Religion is a pig rooting in somebody else's garden, whether obsessed with an angry fat Black chick named Satan (enacting closure with the Hairy Thunderer's mildly retarded entourage of scrawny Caucasian obeisances) or with saving the Earth by whining about the environment. Religion forever threatens to say something. Religion specializes in embracing the absurd, simultaneously prohibiting and mandating it (both options being sinful). People happen upon stupid deeds and religion is their positive feedback loop. Reality is not a matter of moral judgment. Photocopiers are unconcerned whether the template is transcendent, parochial, or your naked bum snuggled to the glass.

What is hidden invariably becomes obsessive. What is forbidden enacts a challenge of clandestine implementation, then mystic sects, then public display in your face demanding operating rights and then active subsidy. It is a symptom of our times that we hesitate to laugh in righteous idiots' faces. Martin Luther, Halloween 1517, 95 Theses:

1) Our Lord and Master Jesus Christ said "Poenitentiam agite adpropinquavit enim regnum caelorum," willing that the whole life of believers should be repentance.


3) Yet it means not inward repentance only; nay, there is no inward repentance that does not outwardly work diverse mortifications of the flesh.

Uncle Al offers a simple, hearty cheer for urolagniacs, amaroli devotees, and those who forsake Ponce de Leon's 1513-1521 Florida search for the Fountain of Youth in favor of shivambu kalpa vidhi and Morarji cola: "The 1500s are long departed. Piss off!"

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