Republic of Shalampax
An Inane Island in an Insane World


Rex, Canine be He, joyfully runs through the heavens. Rex has existed since the beginning of time. He will continue to exist for all eternity or until the celestial dog food runs out, whichever comes first.

The great and glorious Rex, holy be He, shits planets. After a meal of especially spicy celestial dog food, He shits stars. His digestive system is also responsible for copious quantities of gas. If he farts within the atmosphere of a planet, it is doomed to many millennia of devastating global warming.

The beings on his defecated planets — except dogs, which He created in his likeness — started as trivial organic compounds that are found throughout the universe. The beings evolved as a result of billions of random genetic mutations that occurred over billions of years. Favorable mutations have been sifted for survival by natural selection. Rex takes no responsibility for these beings — only for dogs.

Rex has a particular distaste for the species commonly referred to as human, too many of whom suffer from the arrogant delusion that they are the masters. However, He does appreciate those humans who honor Him by stooping, scooping and disposing of His earthly creations' droppings, thereby removing the holy shit from the sight of heathen eyes and preventing impious beings from enjoying its splendor.

Unfortunately, all is not running, jumping, glorious dog shit and happiness in Rex's universe. Satan and his equally diabolical siblings live in black holes. These evil fiends are filled with venom and hate, not to mention uncontrollable horniness that leads them to try to impregnate virgins. At least, that's the virgins' story and they're sticking to it.

Whenever Satan or one of his siblings ventures out of his or her lair to threaten Rex's feces worlds, Rex protects the corporeal dogs he created by barking loudly and chasing the devils back into their black holes. Other beings, humans included, are incidental beneficiaries of Rex's behavior.

For the most part, Rex is a merciful and benevolent God. Unfortunately, He is sometimes overcome by the urge to pick up a planet between His teeth, run with it across the heavens and deposit it somewhere else. This disconcerts any inhabitants who are on the planet at the time. However, the distress subsides when inertia overcomes gravity and the inhabitants are thrown off into space and die, which is a most horrible death. The lucky ones are the people who are fortunate enough to have been under Rex's teeth when He bit down. They die instantly.

Beyond the fear that Rex's playfulness engenders in mortal beings, many Rexian adherents are disgusted by the thought that He puts His own droppings in his mouth. But, he's our God and we love Him.


Rex is pleased to no end when, despite their knowing that He did not create them, humans worship Him. Thus, we curb our pious desire to honor him in this way. When Rex is happy, he wags his enormous tail vigorously. Several planets have been destroyed as a result. Worship is, therefore, definitely out.


Only dogs experience an afterlife.They become angels and frolic with Rex in the heavens.

Neither Rex nor the dog angels are pleased with this arrangement. Being minuscule compared to Rex, dog angels tend to get stepped on and killed when, with wild abandon, Rex plays fetch with planets. There is no afterlife after the afterlife, so that's it for the unfortunate squished angels. Their celestial crushing is usually exceptionally painful before the final end arrives. And the knowledge that Rex pays so little attention to them is exceptionally demeaning and bad for the dog angels' self-esteem. Consequently, most dogs wish they would, like humans and other animals, simply die when they die rather than sharing the heavens with Rex for all eternity or until he steps on them, which, because eternity is never-ending, is certain to happen some time.

Rex doesn't get anything out of having his angel dogs around either. To be honest, His eyesight has never been great, so He isn't even aware that these puny little creatures are up there with Him. And they make him sneeze when He accidentally snorts one up His nose — which is not pleasant for either Rex or the snorted angel.


Dietary Laws

Rexianity has only two dietary laws. We follow both very strictly. First, for obvious reasons, we are not allowed to eat dogs. Second, and less obvious, we must thoroughly wash all food in distilled water before eating it. Why? Think about it. All food ultimately comes from either plants that have grown in the soil or animals that have feasted on plants that have grown in the soil. And where did that soil come from? That's right, it's Rex's shit. You really want to rinse that off well.


Rexians believe that the dog days of summer are holy. Since nobody has precisely defined when the dog days of summer are, Rexians in the northern take all of June, July and August off. To be on the safe side, some orthodox people also avoid work throughout the shoulder months of May and September. We are unique among religions in not celebrating holidays in the southern hemisphere on the same dates as in the northern hemisphere. On the south half of the planet Rexians take off December, January and February, with orthodox Rexians also taking off November and March.

Some orthodox Rexians maintain households in both the northern and southern hemispheres to invoke a religious right to, without a loss of pay or job status, not come into work during any month except April and October. Many employers in a variety of countries are fighting these religious rights and freedoms claimed by Rexians. The cases are currently working their way up to the supreme courts of a number of nations.


There is a crisis in Rexianity. After billions of years of gamboling through empyrean leash-free zones, chasing after — but failing to catch — the occasional passing spaceship, and defecating planets, Rex is running out of celestial dog food. Without food Rex, our God, will die. This is a catastrophe in the making. If Rex were to die we would be on our own in the universe, with no one to blame for our problems but ourselves. That would be unthinkable. If you'll excuse the mixed metaphor, Rex makes an excellent scapegoat.

Rexian scientists and religious scholars perused the sacred texts and discerned from them the composition of celestial dog food. Our scientists know how to make Rex's food, but they do not have the funds necessary to ramp up production sufficiently to meet Rex's needs. In addition, the celestial dog food must be shot into space by rockets powerful enough to carry it far enough away from earth such that Rex won't inadvertently chomp down on Earth when he chows down his food. Those rockets are astronomically — no pun intended — expensive. What's more, as you can imagine, we need millions of them each year if we are to sate Rex's God-sized hunger.

The need is urgent. Send every dollar you possibly can to your nearest Rexian church to help fund this righteous, valiant effort. If you don't, you'll have only yourself to blame.

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© Copyright Klebanoff Associates, Inc. and Joel Klebanoff, 2007-2012. All rights reserved.
Shalampax and Shalampaxian are trademarks of Klebanoff Associates, Inc.