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Not long ago I decided to form a Great Institution of Man. I chose to make it an organized religion. I began by electing myself God. The vote was one to zero. Unanimous.

Next I appointed disciples. At first, they were reluctant to leave their old established religions for my fledgling faith, but when they realized they were being recruited by God Himself, they could hardly refuse the honor.

It was time now to issue Commandments. I was determined to make mine a fun religion, one that does not overtax the moral fiber of the faithful.

The Judeo-Christian Ten Commandments are so discouraging. The first time you see them, you know you are going to have trouble. Oh, you can probably avoid killing, but the other nine are going to be a drag. Somewhere along the line you know you are going to covet something you shouldn't, or commit something you oughtn't.

I decided to have only one Commandment. I would make it not only easy to follow, but hard to break. Carefully, I planned it so that a sinner would have to go far out of his way to violate my Commandment — and even then there wouldn't be any fun in doing so. It was the most absurd taboo my imagination could produce. I wrote it down, brought it to the local stonecutter and asked him to carve it on a great stone tablet.


"I'm sorry," the stonecutt