I was once told by a man of the cloth, one of the old-fashioned kind who still believed the Red Letters were more than just a stylistic choice by the printer, that the quickest way to lose your soul is to find a way to sell it at a profit. Now, I’ve seen many a curious thing in my travels, but nothing quite so peculiar as the modern American spectacle where a man can be convinced that the path to the Pearly Gates is paved with high-interest newsletters and a healthy dose of loathing for his neighbor.