I got your postcard asking for, (some might say “demanding”), an explanation of your recent death and resurrection. The death bit wasn’t Me. I can only assume that gang violence is on the rise in Slough. It’s possible that it might have been a few rogue brand-loyalists, though. You know how they are if I’m not standing right there enforcing their moral code. However, the resurrection trick was all Me… well, more a kind of clerical error. We haven’t fired quite all of the Guardian Angels yet. If you like, you can think of it as a sort of “Welcome to My new Chosen People” gift.
Understand, please, that this is just a one-off. I’m on vacation and don’t have the time, resources or inclination to do that sort of thing regularly. From here on out you only get the perquisites and gratuities that come with being one of My Chosen People.
As to your question about rumours of magical powers, viz; dihydrogen monoxide perambulatory ability or supernormal induction of incremental precipitation, I’m afraid that’s just bollocks. It may be true that there are temporary side effects, but they’re nothing to worry about. They should disappear within a matter of days… however, if you experience an erection lasting more than four hours, you should either call your doctor or borrow the address book of any Republican Congressman. (That’s just a little joke. They don’t loan those to anyone.)
It sure is lucky you didn’t get hit by a bus. I mean, the de facto, if not de jure, high priest of My Chosen People getting his Eternal Reward from a bus that had “There’s probably no Gawd” written on it and then being resurrected, well, that would have been embarrassing. By the way, as you’ve probably noticed, I let Lottie, over the objections of The Chaplain, talk Me into including even the atheists who don’t believe in Me in My Chosen.
No, no; there’s no need to thank Me. Most Jews don’t believe in Me, anyway. Besides, I’m sick and tired of Halakhah. I long to reap the entire field, put a Jew to shame and to withhold food, clothing and conjugal rights from My ex-wife, Mary, (may she grow boils on her gigantic tuchus). Just do Me one favor. Don’t rub it in the faces of My boys’ followers, the brand-loyalists, or as Republican Jesus calls them, “The Base”. That’s where My vacation fund comes from.
Wish You Were Here,