The Partridge People Have Something To Say

This is a forum for the Partridge People. The Partridge People are You. The Partridge People are We. This is the place where Children of Shirley write down what the Eternal God TV has told them.

The Seven Rays of Kroc

October 27th, 1956. Fred Turner has just finished his shift at his new job at McDonalds. He sits down and sips from his orange drink. A door opens and Ray Kroc walks in. Fred gets up and says, “Good evening, Mr. Kroc.”

Ray smiles at him, then says, “Can I talk to you, Fred?”

Fred nervously says, “Yes, sure. In the basement?”

Ray shakes his head, “No, Fred. Let’s take a walk.”

They walk out into the parking lot. One of the employees waves at them as he picks up trash. Ray walks in silence. Fred’s stomach is turning summer saults. He thinks to himself, “Am I going to be fired? And if so, why doesn’t he just come right out and tell me?” Fred tries to make small talk but every time, Ray just smiles at him and shakes his head. Then Ray starts to whistle as he turns on to a side road that leads into a park.

They walk deep into the woods. The sun has set. Fred wishes that he’d brought his jacket; it’s a cold Autumn night. Ray turns around and says, “You’re probably wondering why I brought you out here, Fred. It’s because I like ya. But I need people who I can trust. Can I trust you, Fred?”

Fred says, “Sure, Mr. Kroc. You can trust me.”

All of a sudden Ray Kroc’s face loses all expression. There’s an emptiness to it as if one was made of a marble tomb. Ray takes his hand, grabs his head and yanks really hard. He pulls his skin and clothes off and standing before Fred Turner, is a being made of golden light. Ray doesn’t talk anymore, at least not in the normal sense. When he says something to Fred, a little bit of golden light flows from him and touches Fred on the forehead. Everything Ray says to him is overwhelming. It’s like as if someone forced you to read an entire library in one hour.

Fred falls to the ground. And when he looks up, Ray looks the same in his suit and skin. He strokes Fred’s hair and cheek and then asks, “Can I trust you?”Fred bursts into tears and falls to his hands and knees before Ray Kroc. “Yes, Sri Kroc. You can trust me forever.”

All is Larry David, Larry David is All

In 2005, Brother Physician Partridge picked up the plastic telephone and called me to tell me he was working on a Seinfeld/Curb Your Enthusiasm religion. He explained how you were either a Seinfeldian or an Enthusiast. At the time I told him that I dug the idea but I couldn’t wrap my head around the cosmic spiritual idea of a Seinfeld/Curb Your Enthusiasm religion. Then a couple of years ago, I was watching Seinfeld on the television who’s first name is G, middle name is O and last name is D.

As I was watching the gang eating lunch it flashed on me. Where do they always hang out? At the diner named Monk’s. The monad, the Eternal One; everything comes from it and everything returns. Even though Seinfeld and Curb Your Enthusiasm seem like hilarious, jaded and critical comedy the main thing that happens in the Seinfeld/Curb universe is that everything is connected. And that’s why they eat at Monk’s. All is one, one is all. And of course, monks are servants of God.

Then you have Curb Your Enthusiasm. The word “enthusiasm” originally was a word used by an ancient sect of people called Enthusiasts who went around in ancient Greece preaching their constant enthusiasm for God and all things Divine. We at the Partridge Family Temple are Enthusiasts but the world would try to curb our enthusiasm. We understand that all the unpleasant people and things that happen are simply comic material to transform into Comedy Gold.

The Reuben Kincaid Sandwich of God with Extra Thousand Island and Pickle on the Side

Reuben wakes up naked on his shag carpet living room floor. He smells the puke in his hair and realizes as he stretches his legs that they’re coated with dried shit. He groans. Then hears loud squeals of joy coming from his bedroom. His fuzzy, foggy brain starts to put the pieces together from the night before. He remembers going to his favorite bar and picking up two gorgeous stewardesses. One with a short, brown pixie hairdo. The other with long, delicious honey-blonde hair down to her shoulders. He remembers coming back to his apartment and then more drinking. The last thing he remembers, is remembering that he had some quaaludes on him. His head throbs.

He slowly pulls himself to his feet and stumbles to his bedroom door which is half open. He freezes. On his bed are the two stewardesses from last night, naked and sweat gleaming. Fucking both of them is a ten-year-old, freckle-faced red head. The boy has his right hand up the blonde’s pussy and he is fucking the brunette from behind. Their eyes are glazed and rolling in the back of their head. Reuben thinks to himself, “I’ve never seen a chick do that before.”

At that moment, the red-headed imp stops and slowly turns and stares at him. Reuben croaks, “Who are you? How’d you get in my apartment?”

The red-freckled creature smiles. Loud, slurpy sucking sounds fill the air as he withdrawals his hand and shaft from the stewardesses. His freckled brilliance gleams wet with hot fuck sweat. Reuben takes note of the disturbing red pubic hair and freckles at the base of his penis. “Hi. My name’s Danny. Danny Partridge. Me and my family have a band and I think you’re the guy to manage us. You know booking gigs, media, money. Lots and lots of money. And things like this.” He nods his head towards the stewardesses.

Reuben is confused. “How did you even find my house? Who do you think you are even coming in here?”

Danny smiles. “I’m Danny Partridge. I chose you specifically. Mom’s not sure, Keith’s flaky and my sister Laurie is probably balling some biker right now. But you’re the one. So anyway, here’s the address. Come by our house and watch us practice and we’ll discuss your fee.”

Reuben bellows, “You have a hell of a lot of nerve, kid. I’m calling the cops right now.”

Danny laughs and says, “I don’t think you should do that.”

Reuben counters, “Why? What are you going to do?”

Danny closes his eyes, clenches his hands and his head rolls back as black, thick smoke pours from his mouth. Reuben smells something burning. It’s coming from his bedroom. He turns around and looks into the room and sees two piles of burning and twisting corpses slowly lighting the bed on fire as they collapse into it. Their disembodied shrieks fill the air. Danny turns back to Rueben and says, “Oh, by the way. Did I mention I’m a God?”

Saturday afternoon, Reuben Kincaid sits in the Partridge’s living room talking to Shirley. As they drink coffee and eat coffee cake Shirley asks, “So how did you come to hear about us? We haven’t played any shows yet. To be quite honest with you, I’m a little nervous.”

Reuben replies, “I’ve an ear for talent. I was driving down the street, heard you guys practicing and I kept driving around the street. I’m in the entertainment industry and I can tell talent when I hear it.”

Danny slowly walks in from the den. “Who’s this, Mom?”

Shirley turns and smiles. “Oh, I believe this is our new manager. Reuben Kincaid, this is my son Danny.”