Dear Arnold Conrad…

Thanks to

Thanks to

Interim Pastor Ministries, P.O. Box 549, Walcott, IA  52773

Dear Arnie,

  Do you think I look fat in this robe?  Or… wait a minute… were you calling Me a weak sister?  Are you saying I couldn’t take another deity in a stand-up fight?  Dude, do you know who I Am?  I squashed Samson.  I levelled Sodom and Gomorrah.  I turned Aaron’s “rod” into a snake.  (Heh, that was a good one; he screamed like a little girl.)

  Buddy, I made Balaam’s ass talk – without peanut butter.  I made an axe-head swim the Jordan River.  I’m so powerful I made a virgin pregnant!  Hell, I killed a guy for touching My stuff.  Not only that, I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.  So don’t tell Me that if John McCain loses some stupid popularity contest I’m not the baddest mofo in the Deity Club.

  In fact, I can lick 30 deities today.  Well… maybe twenty-nine.  You!  Down there.  With the curly hair.  Will You please step out of the line.  I can like twenty-nine deities today.

  Well… that’s sort of a mean thing to do.  I’ll cut down My list.  First group is dismissed.  I’ll beat up the next twenty-two.  I can lick twenty-two deities today.

  Well… maybe I’ll lick thirteen.  You!  In the front row.  You’re excused!  You may go.  Your fingernails aren’t very clean.  I can lick thirteen deities today.

  Well… quite a few of You seem underweight.  It’s not fair, after all.  To lick deities so small.  I think that I’ll only lick eight.  I can lick eight big deities today.

  Okay, look.  Let’s cut to the chase.  I’ll take on this “Hindu” and “buddha” you mentioned.  One at a time.  Marquess of Queensbury rules.  No hitting the Coelestial Orbes; no springs in the boots; no Foreign Objects… the whole schmeer.  Oh, and you’ve got to provide a good cut man.  Gawd don’t risk the face.

  So, to “Hindu” and “Buddha”, the toughest tag-team deities in this or any universe, I say, “Bring it on!  I have no fear!”

  But… you know, I have sort of a hunch that noontime is near.  They can wait for Me here.  I’ll beat ’em up right after lunch.

Wish You Were Here,



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