They were cesspools. Some hadn’t the foggiest idea what massage therapy was, or bioenergetics. They were plain and simple whorehouses. Durga dear, you’ve become such a prude. You used to be fun. Aye, your kind of fun. Still, the staff were donating their services and shared their profits with the Treasury of Enlightenment, in exchange for using the Arhat’s image. And his inspiration, Polly. Don’t forget to parrot that. The example of his love. Quite so. Work was their worship and they were happy, as we all are. Why turn them off? You went around terrifying everybody, demanding more and more, a bigger and bigger cut, saying they should rob their parents, pretend to illnesses they didn’t have, smuggle dope— I never told them to smuggle dope. You told them to gather sweets where they could. The two sannyasins who were caught with cocaine down in Nogales said it was on divine orders and they had been brainwashed. Of course the little twats would say that. Anything to save their little skins.
