The Divinity Behind “Moe’s Trollys:” a Tufts Zamboni Investigative Report

Features | April 14, 2017

The Lord God is in all mind and matter, subtle and manifest.”

-Guru Granth Sahib

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The first time I visited Moe’s, I ordered a barbecue rib sandwich, a bag of potato chips, and a can of Fanta.  I enjoyed both the sandwich and soda greatly, and, like a cleric distributing alms, gave the potato chips to my roommate, who told me that they were “decent.”  Scrolling through Facebook while attempting to keep the barbecue sauce from getting on my computer, I happened upon a page entitled “Moe’s Trollys.”  Thinking that this page would contain mundane news about available late-night ground meat, I sent a friend request and soon fell asleep, thinking nothing of it.

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These six words changed my life.  They appeared innocuous; two weren’t even real words.  When I scrolled down and saw exactly what had been written, however, I was inexorably pulled into a universe that I could not comprehend.  

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That’s funny, I thought.  I wonder why he would comment something like that on a perfectly normal profile picture.  Was he typing in tongues?  Slightly curious, I clicked for the first time on the Moe’s Trollys page.  I never got a last look at the earthly realm I was leaving.  Scrolling down a bit, I saw this post, from November 22, 2016:

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I briefly laughed, but the the cap-locked words stirred up an indescribable feeling deep inside me.  There was something off about this writing.  My interest now piqued, I next saw another comment on a different profile picture from December 19:

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At this point, I could not deny the bizarre way in which these posts were affecting me.  Each apostrophe seemed to be drilling a tiny hole in my skull, as disparate emotions ran through me, from shame to lust to awe.  My fingers seemingly moved of their own accord, scrolling all the way back to May 12…

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As my eyes passed over the final period in the ellipses, a cold shock engulfed me and everything went black.  When I awoke, my entire dorm room was covered in printed out posts from the page, and my roommate was angrily tearing down the reams of paper that coated his half of the room.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I took ‘em down, asshole,” he replied.  Confused as I was, I would not allow that stab at my dignity to go unmolested.

“I’m an asshole because I want to know the truth?”

“It’s clearly a copy/paste mistake!” he yelled.  “This isn’t Spotlight!  Rachel McAdams isn’t going to play you in the movie!” (Author’s note: for more on how this comment in particular caused me to question so much about both society and myself, please see my article “The Time Traveler’s HUSBAND?” in an upcoming edition of the Tufts Observer).

I had to get out; my oaf of a roommate didn’t understand the kind of power that I was dealing with.  Once again, I felt like I had lost control of my body as I sprinted out onto the Green and, finally, into Goddard Chapel.  Exhausted, I threw myself to the floor, interrupting the weekly Humanist Small Group Reflection.  Luckily, they are a tolerant bunch, and so with a scream I plunged my hand into the pocket of my jeans and retrieved my phone.  When I unlocked it, a post of Moe’s was already on the screen:

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The words sang to me like nothing before ever had.  All of my troubles melted away, as I was engulfed in enlightenment.  I had finally achieved the truth—the Moe’s Trollys Facebook page is run by none other than the Lord God Himself.  We are all His children, and He will be at all of our weddings, in one way or another.  

The first time I visited Moe’s, I ordered a barbecue rib sandwich, a bag of potato chips, and a can of Fanta.  However, I came away with something else; something that couldn’t be wrapped in aluminum foil.  Somewhere in that meal I ingested the true order of the universe;  I had eaten of His barbecued flesh and drank of His artificially flavored blood.  It was now Friday evening, and the next couple hours couldn’t go by quick enough.  I wanted a sandwich from God.

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Moe bless you all.