Dear Jesus H. Christ…

C/O The Kings Arms Hotel 147 High Street

Berkhamsted, Hertforshire (Charles II Suite), HP4 3HL



  I just heard about Your early retirement and I couldn’t be more happy for You.  Personally, I was never very serious about the family business.  I was only ever in it for the wars, the smiting and the practical jokes, anyway.

  I made sure from the get-go that there would be plenty of cash for vacationing once I called it quits.  That’s where I worry that You may have made a mistake.  Son, there’s nothing more important to a deity than His Golden Parachute.  Without the Tithe Clause, (and the gullible little old ladies), you’ll end up wandering the earth like Kane from Kung Fu.  Now, I don’t know if You publicly snubbed the Republicans as a dramatic gesture or simply to piss off Your brother.  Either way, You’re breaking the oldest rule in business:  Don’t shit on the cow that lays the magic beans.

  Where, exactly, do You think the money comes from to put you up in the Charles II Suite?  And by the way, don’t forget what happened to his father.  If You think the money from this book You’re writing will get You by, think again.  Remember what happened before We could get Our joint memoirs published?  That’s right; the unauthorized biography.  I’m still trying to get My fair share of royalties from the hacks who wrote that Bible thing.

  The point here, Son, is that You’re going to need money, and the people who give the most money are the ones who are both excited and scared about war, smiting and slapstick comedy.  That means that, especially with You stepping down, Your cash flow depends on kissing the asses of Your brother and His people.

  I suggest you pick up some pointers from the media.  They’ve made kissing ass while pretending not to into a true art form.  The best advice I can give you about it is just what My old mentor, Obatala, told Me.

  “When You kiss that first ass, You may feel a slight sting.  That’s pride fucking with You.  Fuck pride.  Pride only hurts.  It never helps.”

  So, look; kick Your pride to the curb, tell John McCain You don’t think he’s a doddering, old, useless shill and act impressed that Palin once took an overseas trip.  Then come on down and meet Me in Kentucky, where I’ll show You that ass-kissing can sometimes go both ways.

Wish You Were Here,


P.S. – Thank Me the universe dodged a bullet when they switched on that collider thingy today.


4 responses to “Dear Jesus H. Christ…

  1. Congrats to the Kid!

    Yeah money is a big worry these days. Not for you or for the other Son but well, thats how it goes.

  2. I feel better now. Nothing like reading the words of Gawd to brighten my day!

  3. This has nothing to do with anything but all the kids who got expelled from my school then went on to board at Berkhamsted School. Oh, happy memories.

  4. Frogspond,
    Gawd’s just glad to see Him following in His footsteps.

    Yea, it is written: “And Gawd went forth into 1st Class and drank Bruadar Scotch Liqueur for medicinal purposes. And it came to pass that the squiffiness was upon Him.”

    Gawd saw that hotel in a movie and fell in love with it. The hoodlum-filled boarding school notwithstanding, it would be a sweet place to take Sister-of-Postman.

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