“I clearly see now, for, as you have so eloquently put it, ‘We do have Gods for everything,’” said Yoki.
“Yes, we have Gods for YES, and CLARITY, too. And I like it, it teaches us to respect and be grateful for everything. Memphis mud, Nebraska sod, and Mannahattas wow: these name gods, spirits– spirits of the land. Spirits from erosion and drainage, distillery and brewery. Spirits of YES and CLARITY. A yes and clarity in Memphis mud, Nebraska sod, and Mannahattas wow,” Jokie muttered, muddily.
Yoki paused thoughtfully and then added, “But praying to the same God in different ways is good for business? Sure. Memphis mud is a beer, as dark as a Guinness. Nebraska sod– that’s whiskey, for the sod is a form of peat, and peat is important in whiskey, witness. Mannahattas wow– a mixed drink, or martini, the mixed drink known as a Mannhattan, not known for fitness.”
Yoki and Jokie serve up the above low key conversation while serving out their sentences, in Reading Gaol. Had they been wordsmiths, in other words lawyers, perhaps their sentences could have been reduced, avoided, a taxi unhailed. Yet lots and lots of prisoners unnecessarily serve sentences because of wordsmiths who exhale. Sometimes a wordsmith has caused the book to be thrown at a prisoner, hitting the prisoner smack dab in the head’s nose’s hook. Then the sentence is dizziness, for sentenced prisoners have spirits, along with regrets. Regret is a spirit. A God? A mixed drink? Squeezin’s?
Spam of Human Affection 
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