Cardboard Box, Down by the Railroad Tracks
Dear Sam,
I saw on the news the other day that you outed Me as your campaign advisor. I thought we had decided not to make that public. In fact, as I recall, the deal was I would give you some much-needed advice on the conditions that you never tell a soul and that you fix My clogged crapper. You know that, being a deity, I am one of the universe’s leading sources of excrement and thus I need a crapper of truly Biblical proportions. But, and correct Me if I’m wrong here, you haven’t kept your end of the bargain. Not only couldn’t you keep your trap shut, it turns out you haven’t worked in years.
On top of being a lying liar who lied to Me, you misquoted Me! When you asked if you should run for office I was not “like, ‘No.’” I was not “like” anything. What I said, and you know you remember this, was, “Ha, ha! Good one, Sam… wait. You’re not kidding? have you been disregarding the ‘Do Not Ingest’ warnings on those little packages that came with your new shoes? Not only No, but Hell No. Fuck No! The Younger Bush has already damaged My vacation fund enough by giving My brand-loyalists a piss-poor reputation and causing many of them to think for the first time in their lives. Every minute you spend in the public eye costs Me money!”
What I suggested would be a good idea, and don’t pretend it slipped your mind, was for you to move to an uncharted island in the Pacific, sew your mouth shut and spend the rest of your days trying to pet sea urchins.
So, look. Forget about fixing My crapper. It’s probably best I get a licensed plumber, anyway. Just call a (Final!) press conference and read the following, verbatim.
Ladies and gentlemen of the press,
A few days ago I announced that Gawd advised me not to run for public office. I would like to clear up that statement, if I may. While it is true that He does not want me to run for office, or, in fact, show my face in public, Gawd is not and has never been a member of my personal staff. To be precise, Gawd finds me to be an annoying little tit whom He would gladly smite if He were not so busy with His gruelling vacation schedule. Furthermore, Gawd has made it perfectly clear to me that when Theocracy finally comes to America, as you’ve all been clamoring for, I will still not be able to get a job as dog catcher. Gawd is tired, tired, tired of seeing my blank-eyed stare on the TV every time He flips around for soft-core porn in His hotel room. So, once I leave public life to “spend more time with my family”, I will devote most of my time to taking three-hour cruises on the SS Minnow. Thank you and goodbye.
If you can accomplish that, I won’t give the plumbers’ union your home address.
Wish You Were Here,
~Gawd
That was a comprehensive trashing of my not-friend Joe the Plumber. Gawd was in a true literary mood when He wrote that. That postcard was almost worthy of my hero, Grandma Helen.
He obliterated Joe so well that Wish You Were Here never sounded more hypocritical. Gawd should’ve said, “Wish you were in my crapper.”
But hey, honesty isn’t Gawd’s greatest virtue, is it?
Well, no. Honesty isn’t really a virtue in His line of work. Imagine what would happen to His vacation fund if He went around telling the truth.
ROFLOL!
Couple of questions:
1. Why is the plumber up at the top using a toilet plunger in a sink? Did he and Joe go to the same plumbing school?
2. Where, exactly, is the “crapper of truly Biblical proportions?” I have some suspicions (Kansas City, maybe), but would like to know the specifics so I can stay away from there!
3. What makes Gawd think that Joe the Plumber can actually, like, read that announcement? Much less read it verbatim? Much less know what ‘verbatim’ means?
Good questions.
1. Sometimes you can’t quite make it to the toilet.
2. 32°26′47″N 99°44′44″W
3. Good point. Gawd must not have had His omniscience turned on.
Abilene? Don’t you need water for a toilet? Or is that the hot and wet part of Texas?
It’s the part where Abilene Christian University is.
You remember in the Army, those latrines at, (for instance), the rifle range? As far as I remember, there was no water involved in those things.
Ah. Now I understand.
Personally, I’d say it was in Happy Camp, CA. Hot, humid, and, when there are forest fires, lots of smoke. And nowhere for the smoke to go. And lots of poison ivy, poison oak and poison sumac to add flavour to the smoke.
To each his own, I guess.
Well, sure. I guess if you’ve never spent a couple of semesters at a Xian college you’d think a picnic spot like that would be bad.
Gawd finds me to be an annoying little tit
Gawd damn! Why’d you have to go and insult the womenfolks like that?
While Gawd would be the first to tell you that He’s a dyed-in-the-wool misogynist, I think that’s one of those foreign insults.
…On the other hand – He is a dyed-in-the-wool misogynist.
Chappie: Maybe he was making a comparison to this.
Brilliant post.
((((Billy)))))
I think it’s a sink plunger.
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Hilarious!