In the lavish and endless state funeral for the soul of Queen Elizabeth II of England, despite the fact that the show was measured and controlled down to the smallest detail, there in Westminster Abbey there was a double incontinence, one urinary and the other. verbal.
During the ceremony, the television did not stop grazing in a very greedy way on the apparently contrite faces of the British royal family, on the uniforms full of stripes, decorations and medals, on the morning suits, hats and dark suits of the 2,000 guests including that there were kings, heads of state and government of half the planet, but if the cameras had been able to sniff these characters from the inside, they would undoubtedly have discovered many probes, bottles and absorbent diapers between the legs of such high dignitaries.
In fact,
while from the altar the Archbishop of Canterbury invoked the choir of angels to take the soul of the deceased to heaven and promised eternal life to all those present, some of those hierarchs may have gladly left immortality aside, in exchange for having his bladder controlled at that time.
But this incontinence was nothing compared to that of the Archbishop of Canterbury himself, who, sifted by the light that came from the stained glass windows and covered with sacred ornaments, challenged the basis of science, affirming without blinking that one day we will come out of the grave. to be judged in the final judgment in the Valley of Jehoshaphat.
When the James Webb telescope is pulling the first entrails of the universe from the depths of more than 12,000 million years,
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