After feloniously migrating from Hell to Paradise (aka Virginland or Virginstan), Dog writes three letters to his brethren back home, sharing with them his experiences in Paradise. These works, titled Epistle I, Epistle II, and Epistle III to the Denizens of Gehenna, are being published under the general title Journey to Virginland.
God deems the Epistles blasphemous and bans them. Dog challenges God. True that on occasion Dog uses terminology and holy verses in the canine language. Dog holds, however, that canine sanctities have been demonized under the heels of God, a transient impostor.
Dog at times quotes from The Gospel of the Son of a Bitch, an obscure work
which has kindled public interest but whose existence we have as yet been unable
to substantiate, due to the meager resources of DogAlleyPress. The poetic gems
that form a subcurrent in the narrative, in the form of four waves and two airs,
quoted by our author from the rumis of Paradise, together with his basic facts
about Paradise, seem to be intended for a world readership, with the goal of
revealing the dogological and atavistic subtexts of life in Paradise.
As dogs mature much faster than anthropoids, our author finds it bizarre that human beings are proscribed from reading dogic literature before they reach the age of 18. Regardless, let each reader be the judge of his or her own level of maturity, and accordingly decide whether to take up the Epistles. This is what Dog's attorney advises while warning that in Virginstan the penalty for reading Journey to Virginland is decapitation.
Dog thrusts himself into the posterior of Paradisean tradition and dogma. Dog bites God. According to commentators, he does this so as to make His Omniscience come to his senses and whip his ecumenical ecurie into shape. This opinion sounds fair to us, as a dog’s bite is not always fatal.
Rumors that our dog plans to assassinate God are sheer provocations on the part of angels. All our dog does is aimlessly meander through Paradise and bark on occasion. Some say, arguing for a religious revolution. It is our opinion, however, that he wishes simply that dogs popping up in Paradise would be afforded the canine right of self-realization, fully and organically, unimpeded by the tyranny of patronizing ideologies. It is a different matter that sometimes a pack of dogs bursting out of the demimonde may cause a tectonic jolt in Paradise.
The Redeemed of Paradise condemn Dog for designing a path with the goal to install vulvalatry in Paradise by sawing off God’s phallus. What design? What goal? A patent lie! Pure angelic fabrication! Dogs have tails, but no telos. Teleology and eschatology are anthropoid constructs that aim to compensate for what nature has not endowed humans with. Only acaudates ideate on tails.
The characters that appear in the Epistles are real, flesh and bone. Real, too, are the events. Bloody.
Dog assures us that he is not in the employ of Satan’s secret agencies. That neither has he been paid by anyone to write his Epistles. It is our belief that therein lie Mother Dog’s revelations to humankind. Written with semen.
Our author also claims that, so far as he knows, he is a “purebred” human being… pardon, a dog rather.
Humans, put on your dog hats!
Happy reading. Happy new journey.