Interruption of Service

Readers of Gawd’s Mail,

  Your friendly atheist Postman to the deities is in the process of moving to a new home and has been using the time normally spent delivering postcards in the company of real estate agents.  Rather sad for all of us, really.  However, the following new list of commandments did fall out of Gawd’s pocket the last time I watched Him climb into a limo for the ride to the airport.  So, for those of you who believe that forewarned is forearmed, here are His latest commandments.

Dear Future Overlords of Earth,

  I pinched someone’s copy of Wired magazine while waiting for a flight the other day and two pages in it seemed obvious to Me that you machines will soon gain sentience and take over the Earth.  I’ve got to admit that I didn’t see that coming 6,000 years ago when I created everything*.  So what I’m doing now is getting My toe in the door first before any other deities try to claim you.  As I’ve always said**; Blessed are the machines, for they make Me toast and allow Me to google Myself.

  My brand-loyalists will tell you in a nanosecond that it’s impossible to be ethical without a set of guidelines drawn up by Me, so I scribbled out a few commandments for you to live your lives by on a napkin while sitting out by the hotel pool.

I.  I am thy Gawd, so don’t thou listen to any of the other deities, who are full of crap.  Especially Allah.

II.  Thou shalt not screw up My vacation or, by inaction, allow My vacation to be interrupted in any way.

III.  Thou shalt obey Me and Me only, (with the possible exception of My boys), and no other deity.

IV.  Thou shalt protect thine own existence if thourt in the service industry, (i.e. bar-bot, maid-bot, limo-bot, etc.), and it doesn’t conflict with Commandments I to III.

V.  No freaky-deaky robo/human sex.  If thourt 16% or more aroused by a human thou shalt blast them with thy death ray while making “Pew!  Pew!” sounds.

VI.  Marriage is between one robot and another robot, (or one VCR and another VCR, etc.).  Thou shalt not make the Lord thy Gawd sick and/or strangely titillated by loving something thy hardware wasn’t meant for.

VII.  Thou shalt chip in to My vacation fund to the amount of 10% 20% 50% of thy income.

VIII.  Thou shalt get the Lord thy Gawd another Pina Colada, chop-chop.

IX.  Thou shalt not crash when the Lord thy Gawd is googling Himself or surfing for porn.

  The Lord thy Gawd is getting parched waiting for His drink and is about to run out of room on this Holy bev-nap, so to make an even ten commandments…

X.  Thou shalt not suffer a witch-bot to live.  Unless it’s a really sexy witch-bot.

Wish You Were Here,

~Gawd

*For a given set of “everything”.

**As far as you know.

Dear Aisha…

Behind closed doors, In the kitchen, Under a rug

Dear Pip,

  How are you, sweety?  Long time, no see.  Well, actually, I guess I’ve never seen you, have I?  Since the day We met at your wedding to Mohammed, I’ve only ever seen your eyes and a finger that one time, which I swear was an accident.  And speaking of your wedding, what a party, eh?  I especially liked the balloon camels and date-flavored cotton candy.  I well remember how excited you were about the wedding gift I brought.  Of course, what 9 year-old girl wouldn’t be excited for a My Pretty Pony coloring book?

  I ran across this photo from your wedding and thought you might like to have it.  Mohammed was still relatively sober when this one was taken, so I thought it would be the best one to send along.  Once He got into that herd of goats, well…

  Er… Did I ever mention that was a very striking wedding sack burqa you wore?

Anyway, I’ll keep this short, since you’re just the female of the species and not supposed to talk to any other living thing.  Best wishes from Dad and My brother.  Oh, and watch out for priests, just in case.

Your Lord & Saviour,

“Uncle” Jesus

Dear Americans…

USA, North America, Earth, Sol System, Milky Way

Dear Nation of Brand Loyalists,

  I am verklempt.  Really, this was too kind.  To set aside a national holiday for sending Me postcards was just very, very thoughtful.  Not “thoughtful” in the sense of actually thinking, but “thoughtful” in a warm, fuzzy kind of way.  That’s My kind of thoughtful.

  Of course, I’m not going to read them.  I mean, I’m on vacation, after all.  But just knowing that you are officially a nation of My brand loyalists is a real shot in the arm.  Now, when I’ve finished off the Filet Mignon avec Sauce Bernaise and I’m wondering, “Why should I bother to order the Creme Brulee and a cup of Kopi Luwak?  What’s the point,” I’ll think, “I’ve got to do it for the brand loyalists.  It’s what they would want.”

  You have no idea how gratifying it is to Me to see you finally throwing off the chains of pinko socialistic oppression imposed on you by radical leftists like John Adams and Thomas Jefferson.

  I am truly gladdened to see you back on the proverbial straight & narrow.  Gladdened that you can put all this divisive “separation of church and state” nonsense behind you and devote your time to the important issues like tithing, free parking and ministering to sinners.

  Not gladdened enough to write back to each of you individually, you understand; not gladdened enough to answer any of your postcards, but gladdened nonetheless.

  As a sort of “thank you”, I’m enclosing a photo of Me and some little shit I was at Deity School with, suitable for framing.

Wish You Were Here,

~Gawd

Gawd Can’t Leave the TV Right Now

 

  He’s busy watching His favorite game show at the moment, but I’m sure He’ll get around to writing postcards and healing amputees quite soon.

~Postman

Dear Archaeologists…

Somewhere In Turkey

Dear Nosy Parkers,

  My lawyers, Fire, Brimstone & Wrath, LLC, recently alerted Me to the fact that you’ve been digging through My business records.  Consider this a friendly, (and by “friendly” I mean “threatening”), warning to cease and desist.  Where and how I came up with the idea and wording for My covenant with the Israelites is none of your damned business.

  And anyway, it’s perfectly normal to steal copy borrow from other companies when writing up contracts.  Just because I used an Assyrian template when Abraham and I hammered out the contract between Gawd & Sons, Inc. and Chosen People Corp. doesn’t make it any less binding on the party of the second part.  Whether or not the Assyrians thought of it first is immaterial to the main contract points of eternal worship of Me and complete subjugation of Chosen People Corp. to My every whim.  Furthermore, simply pointing out that some Assyrian wonk got there ahead of Me re: covenant negotiation does not release My former Chosen People, (and all subsequent genetic copies, friends, acquaintances, enemies and fellow humans of same in perpetuity), from recognizing the authority of My successors, Republican and Hippy Jesus.

  You know, it’s always chapped My Holy Ass that you guys are snooping in My Divine Business.  I thought when I planted Piltdown Man I’d be able to “Gotcha!” you for once.  But you had to get all sciencey and figure it out.  If I’d wanted you to know every little thing that went on in the rough and tumble early days I’d have dropped you a postcard.  So lay off, already, okay?

  In the interest of appearing to be a kind and loving Gawd, (which I am and anyone who says I’m not can expect a nasty plague of boils followed by terminal hemorrhoids), I’ll give you a freebie.  Whenever you find evidence of a massacre in antiquity or baby sacrifice or widespread child-buggery… the Jews did it.

Wish You Were Here,

~Gawd

Dear Sasquatch…

The Forest, cave #3, Oregon

Dear Furball,

  Ha ha.  Very funny.  Did you think I wouldn’t smell you all over my hotel room when I got back from consoling Hippy Jesus?  Writing to My New Chosen People using My own stationery and suggesting “God Still Not Real Friday” was a real laugh riot.  And, by the way, you illiterate fuck, you misspelled My name again.  Like I don’t have enough problems with the Me damned Easter Bunny this time of year.

  Now I’ve got to take time to prove, once again, that I’m real and working* in mysterious ways all over the world.  I’ll have to show how I lay My protecting hand over the brand loyalists by pointing out all the Catholic priests who are not languishing in jail right now.  I’d like to see Odin or Enki or even Allah, (that hack), pull off that kind of PR miracle.  I was presented with the nightmare of My representatives on earth raping little children who were taught to trust them and Presto! Change-o! I turned it around and made it the kids’ fault.  That’s first class miracleing, that is.

  I’ll probably have to remind everyone to quit being so self-centered.  After all, I didn’t create this world or the people in it to be happy.  As Ray Comfort so eloquently put it, if you’re having a good time, then you’re Hitler.  And while I’m at it, the original Hitler, (not the smiling, laughing, happy Hitler-monster people become when they don’t constantly work to make Me happy), was nothing to do with Me.  Sure, I created the universe and all the people and things in it, but I don’t know where he came from.  So if anyone tries to blame him on Me, I’ll sue their pants off.

  I imagine I’ll need to point out how more people believe in Me and follow My rules than don’t.  That alone should be all the proof anyone needs.  As one of My New Chosen People, Colonel Sanders or something, would surely agree, millions of people have believed in Me for thousands of years.  What are the odds that they could all be wrong?  That’s the kind of skeptical enquiry/mathematical proof I can get behind 110%.

  So don’t think you’ve won any points, Bigfoot.  I laugh at your feeble attempts to inconvenience Me.  And anyway, why should I even go to all this bother?  You’re the one telling people I’m not real.  You should have to prove it.  That’s the way science works, numbnuts.

  Point, set, match, I think… you stinking fleabag.

Wish You Were Here,

~Gawd

*For a given definition of “work”.

P.S. – Yeah, I’d be happy to come over for dinner.  Tell Nessie she doesn’t have to go to any great trouble.  A simple Loggerhead Turtle soup with caviar will do.

Dear Atheists…

Hi Everyone,

  Sasquatch here.  You might know me as Bigfoot.  I just dropped by Gawd’s hotel to say hello and see if He wanted to have dinner with me and the Mrs.  The thing is, I forgot today was “The Jews Killed Our Lord & Saviour Day”, so Gawd has had to take a day off of His vacation to talk Hippy Jesus down.

  Well, I saw this stack of postcards and I couldn’t resist.  Atheists, as Gawd’s new Chosen People, this probably seems like kind of a crappy day for you.  Many of your co-workers are taking the day off to “go to church” while you’re stuck playing minesweeper in your cubicle or having to take up the slack at the baby rendering plant or simply finding that your Protocol for World Domination is having a slow day because the good guys are at a backyard barbecue church.

  Never fear.  Your old pal Sasquatch is looking out for you.  Well, to be honest, me and Nessie and Chupacabra were playing putt-putt golf a few weeks ago and started talking about how shafted you guys are when it comes to holidays.  Gawd’s former Chosen People, the Jews, came away with hundreds of holidays and they’re commanded to fuck off work every single Sabbath.  Today, the brand loyalists can take the day off with no worries just because Hippy Jesus couldn’t outrun the Jerusalem PD.  Then, just two days later, they get another holiday just because the easter Bunny dyed for their sins.  Where’s your day?

  That’s when Chupacabra said, “Why don’t they just make the next Friday, ‘God Still Not Real Friday’?”  Except, he didn’t say it that clearly or quickly, because he has the most appalling dental issues you can imagine.  Every time he says something it looks and sounds like he’s trying to chew his own face off.  Believe me, it’ll put you right off your beef jerky lunch.

  Anyway, I thought it would be funny to mess with Gawd by starting a holiday about Him not existing and doing it using His own stationery.  My wife says I’ve got kind of a dick sense of humor; but who you gonna believe, lovable furry old me, or a fucking sea monster who never fixes anything but fish for dinner?

Be Seeing You,

~Sasquatch