Picture this:  I was drinking a brew and channel-surfing on the couch after work.  As I switched to the community access channel, a familiar voice created a stir within my bowels, causing my skin to goose-pimple and my crown chakra to blow up.

There, in my own livingroom, Maharaji's image, albeit split in two, manifested miraculously.  Perhaps, thought I, 'twas due to my blaspheming participation on the ex-premie forums that the top of his head down to his nonexistent brows appeared to be cut off and placed below his chin throughout the broadcast.  Nevermind; his message rang out loudly and clearly, and interminably.

I gleaned the following from his motivational speech:

1.  Breathe.
2.  No two grains of sand are alike; all are unique.
3.  God would get rid of a parallel universe.
4.  Raising children should be effortless since everything else in nature happens effortlessly.
5.  Durga Ji ain't serving him tea no more.

Several times the camera panned the audience (whilst the master picked his nose, I'm told).  In the familiar faces, I saw rapt attention and nectar-sucking.  Peals of laughter responded to insipid jokes; hushed adoration and worship weighed heavy during long, pregnant silences.  The anticipated wisdom never spilled forth, however, and the miracle that is life actually seemed cheapened when described by Maharaji.

Knowing what I now know about his lifestyle, I listened to him with my eyes open.  (Oh, btw he did indicate that closing one's eyes is the Way to see the Truth, or something along those lines).  I saw a phony, pathetic excuse for a teacher.  But what else, thought I, could he do for a living?  Perhaps he was destined to be lamest incarnation of the Lord ever to walk the earth just so I could understand the Zen saying:  "If you Meet the Buddha on the Road, Kill Him!".  In that case, thank you Maharaji