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quite dead, isn’t an ex-God, is only stunned or resting, you lose all. But if the dead God never was God, and you do have an immortal soul, then you don’t really know if you’ve gained or lost, since that really depends on whether God finds Monty Python funny—in short, if God is British, you’re okay—your laughter even counts as worship of such a God, you are among the elect, and will receive a fine German car in paradise (since it is paradise, it won’t be a British car). What I mean by “British” is that God is of the sort who not only can take a joke, but positively laugh at Himself. You have wagered your immortal soul, if you have one, on the chance that God is British. Does that make you worried or what?

Now you may have no immortal soul (I mean others, yes, but not you), and in that case the bet is really off. Might as well enjoy yourself—where was the Castle Anthrax exactly? But let’s suppose you have one, so it’s down to God being British. We need some way to decide. The evidence is a bit ambiguous. I mean, the sinking of the Spanish Armada and Trafalgar seem to suggest God may be British. But it’s hard to be sure. We only know He isn’t Spanish or French. God might still be German, but here Nietzsche helps, since the “madman” was unable to find him there. If God is German, He is hiding or afraid of us or has emigrated (in which case He might still be British by naturalization). Since God was drinking Two-Buck-Chuck with me, He isn’t Italian. If God is Russian, everyone is screwed, starting with the Russians. No point in worrying over that. We might go on by this process of elimination that philosophers call “induction” until the salmon goes bad, but let’s use a handier method. Philosophers call it “deduction,” which is induction for lazy, impatient people.

1. If God is not British, you are screwed (since you laughed at Brian).

2. If God is British, you’re saved.

3. God is either British or not British

This last proposition (3) is where the cheating occurs. It’s called the Law of Excluded Middle, which is a fancy name designed to distract you from it’s real nature, which is The Law of I Shall Finish this Thought by Tea Time. If (1) is true, indulge your mortal soul for whatever time it has left. I know you watched Monty Python’s Life of Brian and you laughed—this hasn’t actually been revealed to me, I’m doing induction. You’re still reading this. Only three possibilities present themselves: (a) you watched the movie and laughed (like a Roman soldier); (b) you are going to watch the movie and laugh (which amounts to the same as (a)); or (c) you have nefarious intentions toward me and everyone like me. In case you haven’t noticed, if a’s and b’s are screwed for watching Monty Python’s Life of Brian, imagine how it will be for me. So if you have evil intentions toward my lot, have a little faith in your cheerless God and let Him take care of me and my ilk. Your “God” has already fed Graham Chapman to Lucifer and the rest of us can’t be so far behind. Be patient and have the courage of your convictions. So I know the rest of you are A’s or B’s, which means either God is British or it’s too late for you.

I realize you want some modicum of hope that God is not only not French, but actually is British. Here is the hope. The strongest competitor for God’s nationality is, well, American. If ever a bunch of undeserving people was touched by divine favor, it’s the Americans—even luck seems eliminated as a competitor. Now, if God is an American, you’re a goner. And frankly, most of the evidence, with the exception of Viet Nam and Iraq, points to an American God. But consider: isn’t it right that only a British God could have thought up America? America is to Britain what Disneyworld is to, well, America. It’s an impossible gift, beyond human imagination, to be allowed to be British and to see what your entire culture would look like if it were a cartoon. It is true that America could never be as funny to the British as they are to themselves, but it runs a fair second. Yes, God is British and when the Britons had everything else God could give them, and became bored with it, the Supernatural Make-a-Wish Foundation for declining empires waved a wand. Poof. America. And here we are: watching Monty Python, not exactly getting it, but laughing at it just as cartoon characters would laugh at us if they could see us watching them on the telly. And if you must know, that is why the penguin was on top of it. The penguin was an American spy, not Burmese. It also explains the bomb.

You can get off your knees now. Brian’s saving work is done. You’ve been naughty, but God is not an American and your mortal soul is healthy. Your immortal soul, if you have one, has my assurance that God is not angry, and that your enemies will all die at some point. I could be wrong of course. Now go away, or I shall taunt you a second time.43

7

Monty Python and the Holy Grail: Philosophy, Gender, and Society

REBECCA HOUSEL

We’re Knights of the Round Table

We dance whene’er we’re able.

We do routines and chorus scenes

With footwork impeccable.

We dine well here in Camelot

We eat ham and jam and Spam a lot.

—Knights, Monty Python and the Holy Grail

Mynd You, Moose Bites Kan Be Pretty Nasti . . .

This chapter examines the historical and philosophical context and significance of Arthurian legend and Grail romances to uncover the serious roots of this very funny

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