Failed religions, part 1

In the year 205, a goatherder, sleeping on a steep hillside above the village of Armpit, saw unto him an angel who said hark, go forth and preach the gospel of orange peel baby robes. Climb the heavenly pile of rotting donkeys and worn out tires and strum the golden notes of truth on the banjo. Or just forget it and herd your damn goats, you illiterate simpleton.

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