Dear Barack Obama…

1600 Pennsylvania Ave. NW, Washington, DC  20500

Dear Barry,

  I know you’re a good brand-loyalist.  I know it because I’ve heard you say so on numerous occasions.  I know it because, as far as I can make out, it’s illegal to be elected president of the US of A if you’re not.  When people said you were a secret brand-loyalist for that hack, Allah, I just tapped the side of My nose in a significant and knowing manner.

  Being such a good brand-loyalist, you must know what kind of Gawd I am.  The jealous kind.  The wrathful kind.  The kind who likes a nice bottle of scotch at the end of the day.  The loving kind?  Not so much… except when it comes to My boys.  I’ve got a real soft spot for the Jesii.

  They tell Me you’ve got kids of your own.  So maybe you can understand why I’m feeling a little smitey that you’re hogging Their limelight.  The folks over at the Harris Poll called to tell Me that I am now ranked number 11 in their “Hero Poll”… up from “Unranked:  less than 1%” in 2001.  Like every year, they were giving Me the list of respondents names and addresses so I could reward/smite appropriately, and they happened to mention your ranking – relative to My boys.

  I’ve never expected to top their poll, myself.  And that’s okay.  I mean, look at what Americans expect in their heroes:

•   “Doing what’s right regardless of personal consequences.”  Well, there are no consequences for Me.  I’m Gawd.
•   “Not giving up until the goal is accomplished.”  My only goal is vacation, and while it’s true that I won’t give up on vacationing until the last star in the sky winks out, people don’t usually understand the dedication that takes.
•   “Doing more than what other people expect from them.”  I’m kind of between a rock and a hard place on that one.  The brand-loyalists expect everything they can possibly imagine and more; and My Chosen People don’t expect anything at all, so I can’t do enough for most and only meet expectations for a few.  It’s a lose/lose.
•   “Overcoming adversity.”  Ditto criteria number one.  What adversity?  I’m Gawd.
•   “Staying level-headed in a crisis.”  You flood one little planet… sheesh.

  Anyway, like I say, I don’t expect to top the list.  As long as I beat Oprah, I’m okay.  But My boys… well, I like to see Them at the pole position every year.  It shows that My Deadbeat Dad approach worked.

  So I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse.  Take a dive.  No one’s asking you not to make a good showing, just not #1.  Take an extra long time to cl0se Gitmo or turn a blind eye to Rove skipping out on Congressional subpoenas.  Knuckle under a few times when the Republicans tell you “no”.  You get the idea.  Now, this first term, you may feel a slight sting.  That’s pride fucking with you.  Fuck pride.  Pride only hurts, it never helps.

  Take My advice.  You’ll be a hero to Me.

Wish You Were Here,

~Gawd

Dear McCain Campaign…

Rechristened: SS McCain

P.O. Box 16118, Arlington, VA  22215

Dear Mavericks,

  I got your letter begging for a miracle.  Really, don’t do that anymore.  It just embarrasses both of us.  And, this is the last time I’m going to tell you; I am not endorsing your boy man octogenarian candidate.  I’m on vacation.  So quit asking.  In fact, even though you’re big boosters of My vacation fund, this is the last favor of any kind I’m going to do for The Mav.  I had My boys write up a transcript of that debate thing he did tonight, but this is it.  No more.

  I knew you wouldn’t care what the other guy had to say, so instead of making one of My boys transcribe that other guy and one transcribe The Mav, I told Hippie Jesus He could give the whole thing a miss and watch Buffy on the other TV.  So, here goes.  Presidential debate as transcribed by Republican Jesus.

Maverick:

  My friends, you are hurting and angry and I have scars.  I also have a plumber friend and I am the champion of the little guy, on the edge of starvation and ruin, who only makes a quarter of a million dollars a year.

Moderator Guy:

  Something about spending and cutting money or something.

Maverick:

  I want to hit things with a hatchet.

Moderator Guy:

  Something about dirty politics or something.

Maverick:

  If Hussein Obama had just done what I wanted from the beginning I wouldn’t have been forced to call him a treasonous Muslim terrorist who kills babies.

Osama Obama:

  Something about shouldn’t we be talking about the economy or something.

Maverick:

  You see!?  Obama is a meany and I’m proud of the people who come to my rallies and call him a terrorist who should die.  Personally, I don’t care about his pal the terrorist or evil acorns(?)… BUT his pal is a terrorist and acorns(?) are evil.  So, my friends, as you can see, my campaign is about the economy.

Moderator Guy:

  Something about vice-presidents and maybe something about energy or something.  (Sorry Dad, that’s when the butler brought in dinner.)

Maverick:

  America knows Palin.  ‘Nuff said.  Oh, and if we drill for our 3% of the world’s oil supply America will be a Utopia.  Here’s the proof, my fellow prisoners; Hugo Chavez is a terrorist and Obama pals around with him.

Moderator Guy:

  Something about health care or something.

Obama bin Laden:

  Everyone gets health insurance or something.  (Dad, we’re sending socialists to Hell, right?)

Maverick:

  Canada and the UK are bad and it’s not the government’s job to help people.

Moderator Guy:

  Something about Supreme Court abortions or something.

Maverick:

  There will be no litmus test as long as the states do what I want.  The only thing I care about are the qualifications of the judges and wanting to keep Roe v. Wade is a disqualification.  So, my friends, I’ll change the culture of America to the good kind of culture that I approve of and you hippies and health-exception mothers can suck it!  Oh, and this one kills babies.

Moderator Guy:

  Something about education.

Barack Genghis Hitler:

  The children are the future or something.

Maverick:

  Yeah… I guess so, but no money – only vouchers.  Mothers can mud-wrestle for them.

Moderator Guy:

  Something about closing statements or something.

Maverick:

  Americans are hurting and angry.  I’m The Maverick.  You can trust me; my daddy was an admiral.

Stalin Obama Hussein bin Satan:

  Something about McCain being just like Bush.

 

  Alright.  There it is.  Now if you’ll excuse Me, this caviar won’t eat itself.

Wish You Were Here,

~Gawd

Dear John McGrumpybritches…

John McCain; Official Senate Photo

McCain Campaign Office, P.O. Box 16118, Arlington, VA 22215

Dear Maverick,

  I got your message asking Me to watch your debate thingy and to tell you what I thought of it.  Truthfully, though, Mav, My old pal Baugi was in town and I was really only watching with one eye.  That’s a trick Odin taught Me, by the way.  Funny story; that’s who introduced Me to Baugi in the first place… but you don’t want to hear about that.  It’s really kind of a tedious story.

  Oh, speaking of tedious stories, there were a couple or three things I did notice about your little televised grumpy spat.  See, Baugi and I always go to see They Might Be Giants when He’s in town, so we were pretty involved in making plans for the show the next night.  But, eventually, you succeeded in interrupting our chat by constantly invoking the name “Ronald Reagan”.  I mean, you must have called on St. Ronny ten-dozen times.  You do know he’s dead, right?  You can wish for it all you want, I guess, but Zombie Reagan is simply not going to rise from the grave and eat your opponent’s brain.  Secondly, out of the corner of My ear, as it were, I could have sworn I heard you say that you have been Little George’s toughest adversary.  Now Mav, that’s… well, that’s not exactly “Straight Talk”, now is it?  In fact, I can’t count the number of postcards from Junior thanking Me for your votes.  I will give you points for balls, though.  When you compared the other guy to Junior I thought, “There’s a Maverick who’s going to go far in American politics.”  The sheer, unmitigated ballsyness of that was breath-taking.  So, as I say, points for that.

  The next night, in the cab downtown to see The Giants, I got to thinking about your little TV scuffle, though.  I turned to Baugi and I said,

 ”I’m really an amazing Gawd, you know that?  Here I am, getting ready to move to Canada, dumping My soon-to-be-worthless dollars and hooking up with you and your backstage passes to the concert – all without turning on My omniscience.  All it took were the subtle clues of a stock market crash, a visiting Norse Giant and Maverick’s bald-faced lies on national television.”

  I amaze Myself, I really do.

  But look, Mav, I want you to do Me a favor now, okay?  Once the suckers vote you in I want you to have a little golden plaque made up to attach to the presidential telephone.  Then, every time you reach out to call Me for a favor, you’ll see this:

• Gawd is on fucking vacation!

Wish You Were Here,

~Gawd

P.S. – Sorry you missed They Might Be Giants.  Those guys really know how to make music unto the LORD.

Dear Conservative Voters…

The Red States

Dear Conservatives,

  This picture postcard notwithstanding, I don’t really kill people’s pets anymore.  That sort of thing tends to swamp My mailbox these days.  You’d be surprised how many more postcards I get about the family pet than about the thousands and thousands of dead, dying, starving and homeless people in Iraq right now.  Kind of funny, in a sick sort of way, eh?

  But that’s not why I’m writing.  I’m writing because you seem to have gotten the impression that John McCain is My candidate.  I don’t know why this always happens.  No one ever asks, they just assume; and you know what happens when you assume.  It’s almost as if you made up your mind who you wanted to vote for and then made up the part about Me.  You know, kind of like when a hurricane destroys a city and you make up something about Me doing it because I hate gay people.  Sometimes I think if I live to be 7,000 I’ll never understand you.

  One thing I think I do understand, though, is that this Obama fellow scares you pretty badly.  It’s the black thing, isn’t it?  Oh, I know you say it’s this thing or that thing, but I sometimes turn My omniscience on for a few seconds when I forget my gate number at the airport.  Let Me just say, it can make a deity kind of queasy.

  But there I go, letting My mind wander from the topic again.  A pretty beach and a rum daiquiri will do that to you.  I said all that to say this:  I don’t have a candidate.  I’m not even a naturalized citizen.  Besides, I’m on vacation!

Wish You Were Here,

~Gawd

Dear Tom Delay…

C/O Travis County, TX District Court Grand Jury

Dear Tom,

  As anyone who pays attention has noticed by now, I’m on vacation and don’t really answer the postcards that people have been sending me for as long as I remember.  However, since My slacker son recently got a job, I thought I’d have a go at answering one of yours.

  It seems to Me that making statements and then sending Me postcards asking to make the statements true is a little ass-backwards.  In fact, I’ve never really understood you and the other hooligans you run around with.  You make what are obviously meant to be derogatory comments about My boy’s new boss in one breath and the next you’re telling people you’re My new apprentice or something.  Keep it up and the only training you’ll get from me is how to take a boot up the keister.

  Of course, I’ve often wondered if this sort of thing is all My boy’s fault.  In one of His rebellious phases He went out and got piercings and, (don’t ask me how), He ended up releasing a bunch of brain-eating zombies.  It’s just the sort of thing that’s always happened around Him.  In fact, He once infected a herd of something or other with demons.  But I digress.  The point of this, which has become a bit of a family introspection, was to answer your postcard.  So, here goes.

  I’m on vacation.  Just do what you always do; make something up and pretend it’s real.

Wish You Were Here For That Boot-Keister Lesson,

~Gawd

Dear Jesus…

C/O Obama for America, Chicago, IL

Dear Son,

  Hi, how are you?  I know I don’t often write, but neither do You… I’m sorry, I promised Myself I wouldn’t say things like that.  I’m writing because I saw that You’ve announced Your support for Obama.  As a father, I can honestly say that I’m glad You finally seem to be buckling down and getting some kind of direction.  Me knows, I wasn’t too happy about the crowd You were hanging around with.  I didn’t want to say anything to You before, because, You know, a father’s got to let their son live their own life; but it always seemed to Me that they were making You take the blame for their actions.  Anyway, I just wanted to let You know that I’m glad you got a job.  Don’t let them underpay you – if you need salary advice You can call.  It wouldn’t hurt You to pick up the phone every now and then, just to say hello, You know?  I’ll be in Cawker City, KS, seeing the largest ball of twine in the universe until Thursday, if you need me.  And call Your mother, she’s been everywhere looking for You.

  Oh, by the way, You tell those Swift Boat Clergymen for Truth guys that if they run that ad calling me an absentee father, I’ll sue their ass.

Wish You Were Here,

~Gawd

Dear Barack Obama…

15 May, 2008

C/O Obama for America P.O. Box 8102, Chicago, IL

Dear Barack,

  I wasn’t sure how to address you.  There seems to be some confusion about your name, and your religion.  However, I see that you’re trying to put the religion question to rest.  I understand that pandering is very popular with politicians.  To tell you the truth, though, we deities don’t much care, (with the possible exception of Baal).  When we’re not bored by religion, we’re embarrassed.  The great majority of us spend more time on vacation than George Bush, anyway.  We mostly don’t care who’s president, either, as long as nothing screws up our frequent flyer miles.  In any case, we never vote, (except Hades, who gets a kick out of voting the dead).  So if this “Faith.  Hope.  Change.” thing is for our benefit, don’t bother.  Go ahead and talk about the stuff that actually matters.

Wish You Were Here,

~Gawd