Dialogue between two ships passing in the night. [Intended as humor, because so far as I know ships do not speak with one another]:
USS Saint: “I know the Church is true.”
HMS Midevil: “Beg pardon, how’s that?”
USS Saint: “I know the Church is true.”
HMS Midevil: “Which? .. or is it all?”
USS Saint: “The Latter-day Saints, of course.”
HMS: “By that do you mean to suggest that the Printing Services Division of the Materials Management Department is somehow ‘true’ as you say?”
USS: “Um, well, yes I suppose.”
HMS: “In what sense. ‘True’ meaning that it exists? or ‘True” in some other meaning of the word?”
USS: “I mean led by a Prophet of God, therefore imbued with the will of God Almighty in all respects.”
HMS: “So not that it is ‘True’ in a metaphysical sense of existence on a higher plane, or bearing some corporeality, but somehow inerrant. Is that what you are saying? And, if so, does that preclude printing errors? Because if it means avoidance of printing errors well, then they ought to take a larger role in the publishing industry than simply providing grist for the Materials Management Department.”
USS: “Since a prophet is only a prophet when acting as such, I would not attribute inerrancy to the truthfulness of the Printing Services Division of the Materials Management Department; but I would rather say that what they do is Inspired. I do suspect, however, there may be occasional printing errors.”
HMS: “Inspired in the sense of the word meaning that it’s output is somehow delightful and uplifting? Or in the sense of ‘perfection itself’? But, then again, you’ve conceded the possibility of printing errors, so ‘perfection itself’ seems not to be included then. So I presume that you mean when you read the output of the printing of this Division of that Department it somehow inspires you to be a better ship, then? Perhaps somewhat of a worShip?”
USS: “I can see that you are not prepared to grasp the truth of my testimony as yet. So let me just warn you that you’re going to hell.”
HMS: “Atlantic City, rather.”
USS: “What?”
HMS: “I’m sailing to Atlantic City. Though it might be called ‘hell’ with some validity I suppose.”