Mr. Dollkin met a pollkin, going to the fair. Said Mr. Dollkin to the pollkin, “What sort of creature are you? And, please take me to your lair.” Said the pollkin to Mr. Dollkin, “Show me first your cash.” Said Mr. Dollkin to the pollkin, “Why must you be so brash? I have no jewels, nor worth of thought, nor gold, nor any quantity of cash.” “Up yours, then!” replied the pollkin.
Said Mr. Dollkin to the pollkin, “Give me the secrets of a Master Mason.” Said the pollkin to Mr. Dollkin, “My life but not the secrets!” So, Mr. Dollkin went a fishing to catch himself a heretic or two. For one must bend to materialist dogma, for all else isn’t true — as proven by the act of pure proclamation.
So, Mr. Dollkin went to look if converts grew on trees. He pricked his finger very badly, which made poor Dollkin sneeze. (God bless you!)
Screamed Mr. Dollkin to the world, “I have no need of faith! And stupid pollkins are hideous sorts; not more worthy than a wraith!” So, he tried to catch a dicky bird, and thought he would not fail, because he’d brought a little salt to place upon its tail. But, he was out of luck, you see — because his preaching was nothing new — having been practiced by others attempting to sell their own ideology since time immemorial. He was laboring, it turns out, under the misconception that his mode of thought was truly “the one, true religion” and, clearly, was the best. But in reality, the truth be told, it was no different than the rest.
So, Mr. Dollkin decided that he would shoot himself a duck. But, the duck flew away, and Mr. Dollkin asked himself, “Why will this duck not stay? If it would just stand still, I could shoot it! But, it appears to be able to actually think for itself. Dammit!” So, he went to ride a sacred cow, who had a golden calf. But, it threw him down upon the ground, and all the folks at the Star-Trek convention, and all the folks playing Dungeons & Dragons continued worshiping him anyway.
And now where is the pollkin? Still going about as it goes about, of course. And now where is Mr. Dollkin? The same.
As Mr. Dollkin was going to St. Ives, he met a Deist who embarrassed him with his sharp and pointy knives… Seven sacks, rats, cats, wives, and all that jazz.
Said the pollkin then, “I don’t despise materialists or atheists of any sort. I merely despise what it is they stand for– it’s their ideas I wish to thwart. We must, therefore, ridicule and show contempt for their beliefs, you know, lest they fester and do grow.” This made Mr. Dollkin cry, as he had said the exact same thing about pollkins many times before, but, through mere and unsubstantiated proclamatory self-confirmation, Mr. Dollkin believed his sentiments to be fair. He also subjectively believed the pollkin’s to be unfair. Mr. Dollkin also felt that this did not make him a hypocrite in any way.