Imam of the Flying Spaghetti Monster
News Flash, Friends and Fiends of the Feathered Bastard: Though I've heretofore self-pigeonholed myself as an agnostic with pro-atheist leanings, I've recently received a vision, and am now declaring myself a holy Imam in the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Henceforth, before I board any airplane, dirigible or Greyhound bus, I will be loudly praying to the ginormous, invisible Pastafarian deity in the sky, praising his big meaty balls and his noodly appendage -- all while nattily attired as a pirate, as is instructed in the Pastafarian Gospel.
Initially I was going to hold out for the position of Bishop or Cardinal, as such prelates tend to have far better duds than Imams, but crikey, I can't wait all day, and I need to issue my first fatwa: Any plate of spaghetti not accompanied by huge veal meatballs and slathered in thick tomato sauce will be considered apostate and driven from the land. So let it be written. So let it be done.
Airport officials please further note that I will be boarding all flights with sheaves of holy Barilla wedged into my BVDs. Any cavity searches performed on my person may discover hidden stashes of same, though for the naughtier crevices, I prefer whole wheat pasta over semolina.
Lest the Christakooks out there think I've forgotten them, I'll forgo my Imamy-ism every Friday when I'll be down at Patriots Square Park doing the whole "street-preacher" shtick costumed like Captain Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean.
Beware unbelievers, Pastafarianism is a real religion. Just check out pasta-prophet Bobby Henderson's website at www.venganza.org, where you can read all about the Flying Spaghetti Monster and what his holiness has in store for you. Learn how FLM created the entire universe initially as a mountain, trees and a midget. Study pastafarian beliefs, like the fact every Friday is considered a religious holiday, and that Pastafarian heaven consists of beer volcanoes as far as the eye can see and at least one stripper factory.
I should note that I'm declaring my Pastafarianism totally independent of Mr. Henderson, and so could care less what he thinks of me. Unless he wants to make me an official FSM Cardinal, in which case I'll genuflect in his general direction.