Oh, dear people.  I believe that God, whoever and wherever He may be is becoming a little upset.  His perfection does not insure an even-tempered disposition.  We have all heard of "the wrath of God."  Listen, God can blow his top when need be.  Remember Noah and the flood?  And what about the money changers in the temple?  Their tables were turned over, money scattered all over the place.  When we mortals invade spiritual territory with egotistical arrogance in a drive for power, fame or riches, divine perfection, be it God, Allah or whomever, necessitates a show of indignation at wrong doing - boundaries that are over-stepped by we mere mortals.  We could be in a gunny sack of trouble.  You bet your sweet bippy we could be. 

            Now a bippy is that part of the anatomy we sit on.  Of course, there are other names for it:  backside, tush, or even if you want to be a little bit la-dee-dah, you could call it the derriere, as the French do.  But I don't want to talk just about bippies.  I need to include noses, cheeks, chins, tummies, eyes, and to be discreet - unmentionables.  What I am driving at is plastic surgery.  People are becoming who they aren't.  If you were the Almighty, wouldn't you be a trifle disgruntled?  If, for example, you were an artist and you had painted a picture and when you had finished, someone came along and changed it by adding more color here and there and perhaps another figure.  Wouldn't you be indignant?  Your work was no longer just your work.   

             Now let me tell you what prompted this subject, bippies:  plastic surgery and so on.  I happened upon a TV talk show (of which there are an over abundance).  The subject being discussed was plastic surgery.  Aside from the host, there was a plastic surgeon and two of his clients.  

            The first individual, a woman, was quite beautiful.  The camera zoomed in for a close-up.  There was an audible ripple of approval from the audience.  The woman smiled and you know what?  Nothing moved.  Nothing!  The smile looked as though it had been pasted on.  It occurred to me that woman's face was like a computer, and a "smile" key had been pressed.  The mechanics were there, the physical pretense of a smile, but no human warmth, no character lines, no brightness or color of personality.  Plastic surgery had given her a plastic smile. 

            The second patient, a man, had had layers of fat removed from his body and a chin lift.  He revealed candidly that he was 59 years old.  Again the audience rippled.  He looked to be no older than the late 30's or early 40's.  I started to get a spooky feeling, and the feeling intensified as faces, tummies and bippies flashed across the screen.  Saggy-baggy before surgery, sleek and thin after. 

             Well now, I want to tell you:  I have been sitting on my bippy for a long time now.  It has served me well.  So what if it has spread out a bit, taking up more space than it used to.  It goes with the rest of me - which isn't too terrific either.  And when I smile, heck, my face looks like corrugated cardboard:  laugh lines, worry lines, too-much-sun-in- the-face lines.  My face, just the way it is, is the story of my life.  It's a book of interesting pages.  Why would I have any of it erased and replaced by blank, vacuous pages?  And for my bippy - well, I don't need an over-stuffed chair anymore.  I have an over-stuffed bippy, and I am darned comfortable.