Monthly Archives: June 2009

Dear Gawd [Postcard From Baal]…


(Postcard delivered by Yunshui of “Right To Think“.)

C/O Ritz-Carlton Hotel, 2 West St., New York, NY 10004
Dear Gawd,

Well, thank You so very freaking much. You didn’t waste any time, did You? Asherah and I pop off for a round of drinks at the Groucho, and barely a couple of millennia later, all our brand-loyalists have been converted – into corpses. You’ve got a real sadistic streak, You know that? We were doing fine in Canaan, just minding our own business, the odd child sacrifice here and there, a bit of temple prostitution (man, that was such a good idea – every ugly bloke for hundreds of miles suddenly wanted to get on the Baal/Asherah bandwagon when we thought that one up), all in a nice simple agricultural milieu; and then suddenly there’s a shitload of Hebrews with pointy things wandering in out of the desert. And You piled in with them! Knocking down walls, stopping the sun, fiery rain – the “hands-off” approach really wasn’t an option for You, was it, Gawd? Now I’m as keen to smite the unbeliever as the next deity, but there’s such a thing as subtlety, You know? A minor outbreak of the pox, a touch of famine, a little spot of inter-doctrinal strife – something with a touch of class, that would have been appropriate, not a full-on invasion with a side-order of genocide, backed by divine firepower. After Ra told me about the shit You pulled in Egypt (ten plagues!? Somebody’s overcompensating…) a couple of generations back I suppose I should have expected a bit of a spat, but did You have to side quite so openly with Your team?

I guess it’s My own fault in many ways. I just assumed that You were planning to play by the rules – silly of me, after all the crap that Abraham kid put up with. Divine intervention was supposed to be a prickling of the conscience, something that came from inside the humans, but You actually went down there and talked to the audience! It was a pretty revolutionary idea, I grant You, and maybe as a one-off it would have looked rather cool, but You just couldn’t let the idea go, could You? Abraham, Jacob, Joseph, Moses – I hear You even mooned that poor Moses bloke! Asherah and I thought that was a great bit of slapstick, but You can’t pull that sort of schtick so often and expect to be taken seriously. Look, I know we’ve never been best mates, but let me give You a bit of advice, as one deity to another – people are starting to snigger behind Your back, and worse. I’m not mentioning any names, but there are certain pantheons out there who think You’re throwing your weight about a bit too much, and they’re getting antsy – does the word “jihad” mean anything to You? I’m just saying…

Anyway, the real reason I’m writing is because I’m really ticked off about that whole business with Your poster-boy Elijah and my Brand-Loyalists. You knew I was in the bathroom at that point – I’m never eating paella again – and You completely took advantage. I especially take issue with the level of overkill. You could have done the business nice and quietly, just a little flicker of flame that might have been of divine origin but could just as easily have been a clever sleight of hand on Elijah’s part, but no, You insisted on showing me up in the worst way possible. It was crass, and uncalled for, and I demand a rematch! I’ve just about had it with Your bullying; and when we next meet I’m inclined to take a leaf out of Your book and just start smiting left, right and centre, hang the consequences. Before that, though, I’m taking this one opportunity to extend an olive branch – all I’m asking is that You rein in the direct intervention, and behave like a reasonable, grown-up deity. Is that really so much? Everyone else here seems able to control their urge to dive in and get their hands dirty – if You could just stick to vague prophecies delivered by obvious nutters like the rest of us, we’d all be able to get along much better.

Give my best to the Jesii, hope they’re well. Tell Hippy Jesus to stand up to his brother once in a while!

Exasperatedly Yours,


PS. I bumped into Quetzalcoatl just before sending this, and he (she? it? I’m never really sure) tells me You’ve decided to take a bit of a vacation. I think that’s a very wise decision, it will help everyone to settle down a bit. I hope You’ll give some thought to what I’ve said – let’s talk when You get back. Enjoy your trip! B.


Postal Notices


Dear Brand-Loyalists and Gawd’s Chosen People,

  Your friendly, atheistical Postman is extra busy at the day job today, so I won’t be delivering any mail from Gawd.  Here are a few things that Gawd has been contemplating, which I’m sure He’d write about if His vacation schedule weren’t so gruelling.

  And speaking of vacation, I’ll be taking a much-deserved vacation of my own next week.  Never fear, though.  (((Billy))) The Atheist and Yunshui have agreed to deliver mail in my absence.  So I’ll be back after July 8 and in the meantime, here are some things Gawd has been mulling over.

Dear Jesii…

Hideous Tie 2C/O Hotel Preston, 733 Briley Pkwy, Nashville, TN 37217

Hideous Tie

Dear Boys,

  Thanks for the Father’s Day ties.  They’re very… unique.  I shall put them in a very safe place, you can count on that.

  Thanks, also, for the book.  I liked it, even if some people say it was kind of a rip-off of those Harry Potter stories.  But, and I don’t mean to shoot down your thoughtful gift, do You think it’s a good idea to contribute to Poseidon’s big PR blitz?

  I’m not saying the book wasn’t enjoyable.  That’s just the problem, actually.  Poseidon has always been a sneaky son of a titan.  Like when We were in school.  He used to pull dirty, underhand tricks like telling Me there was free beer in someones dorm-room and when I went through the door a bucket of water would fall on My head.  You see what I mean?  Not only sneaky, but sharp as a razor.  Eventually, I saw through His tricks and that’s why I’m leery of this series of PR pamphlets He’s published.  Sure, they seem enjoyable, (if a bit derivative). Sure, they’re page-turners that kept Me busy the whole flight from Nova Scotia to Sydney, but where’s the bucket, eh?  That’s what I want to know.

  Does He expect to siphon away some of My vacation fund with these books?  Is He trying to woo away My brand-loyalists with tales of adventure and deities who actually talk to them?  Is He subtly appealing to My most fundagelical brand-loyalists by showing how much cooler His monsters are than plain old Democrats and atheists?

  Well, two can play at that game.  Right.  Boys, drop what you’re doing and find us a ghost-writer who can spin a yarn about your adolescence being chased by evil atheists and heathens with… er… with… bulls heads!  Yes!  Atheist heathens with the heads of bulls.  And your days at Young Deity School learning to turn water into wine with your best friend… Jagrid.  Jagrid the… friendly giant!  Right.  Ha!  This isn’t so hard.  I’ll leave the rest up to the ghost-writer, but that ought to be enough to give him the idea.  Tell him to give it the usual twists.  Young Mary Magdeline as the proto love-interest and throw in Your Uncle Beelzebub as the bad guy.  He won’t mind.

  So, look; get on that right away.  We can’t let Poseidon get the jump on Us.

  Oh, and thanks again for the… the… whatchacallits… the ties.  Great gift.  I’m really touched.

Wish You Were Here,


P.S. – When are one or both of You going to get married?  Tick, tick, tick, boys.  I’m starting to get worried about You.

Dear Allah…

rock and a hard place

Enchantment Resort, 525 Boynton Canyon Rd., Sedona, AZ 86336

Dear Al,

  Far be it for Me to tell You how to handle your own brand-loyalists, but Your boy, the Ayatollah, seems to be in a tough spot.  You know I’ve always had the greatest respect for You and the good work Your brand-loyalists do, so…

  Oh, Hell!  I can’t keep a straight face while I write that drivel!  Even You’re not stupid enough to believe that, anyway, right?  What I’m really writing to say is – “Ha, Ha!

  Oh, that felt good.  You know, normally I’m all for theocracy.  It’s got a good beat and you can dance to it.  I’ve got high hopes for the United States, one day soon.  But Iran is Your theocracy… and it’s left a bad taste in My mouth for years.  There’s not much I hate worse than seeing You get away with something, You hack.  That’s why I’ve been laughing so hard I nearly pooped My Holy Drawers.

  The Jesii have been following this “Twitter Revolution” going on there.  I can’t say that I understand it or see the difference between a twit and a telephone, but the boys tell Me it’s been giving the Ayatollah fits and that’s good enough for Me.  And just so You know, (but really to make You queasy), I’m having a cargo ship full of Chick Tracts diverted from Singapore to Iran.  Nothing would make Me laugh harder than converting a country full of Your brand-loyalists over to My brand.

  Oh, Me!  I’m laughing so hard I’m crying over here.  People are starting to stare at Me and they’re about to call My flight, anyway.  So I’ll wrap this up.

Wish You Were here,


P.S. – We’re still on for golf this weekend, right?

Dear Wiley Drake…


In a Van Down by the River, Buena Park, CA  90620

Dear Puny Mortal,

  IT IS I, THOR, GOD OF THUNDER, GOD OF RAIN AND GOD OF… farming.  Tough, muscular, American Gladiator-type farming, so don’t you dare snicker!

  Right.  You’re probably wondering why I’m writing you.  The fact is, with the economy in such a shambles, a deity’s got to take work where He can get it.  Gawd owed Me a favor from way back, so when your postcard asking Him to kill the president of the United States showed up in His mailbox, He passed it along to Me.

  But before we get into the particulars of your smiting request, there’s the not-so-small matter of payment.  As My old Dad, Odin, used to say, “There’s no such thing as a free lunch or a free smiting.”  First of all, you need to know that you’re not only hiring Me, but also renting Mjolnir and I’ll tell you up front – magic hammers don’t come cheap.  There are also incidentals like goat feed for My chariot steeds, leather polish and validated parking.  So we’re looking at a minimum of two oxen, three hares and a bag of reindeer jerky.  And that’s if the Secret Service doesn’t put up a fuss.

  This may seem a little pricey, runty human, but you should take into consideration that you’re hiring a professional.  I checked up on you and I know that you’re used to asking for things and then sitting back and waiting for some crazed brand-loyalist of Gawd to get it done for you.  I admit that I’ve used bully-boys to do a little of My smiting, as well.  But, while they’re perfectly adequate for dealing with an Anglo-Saxon warlord, a 67 year-old doctor or a building devoted to peace, to deal with the most powerful man on earth, (scrawny descendant of apes though he be), you need the First Team.

  Now that I think about it, My original estimate may have been a little low.  If I have to deal with limousine’s with hammer-proof glass and a bunch of trained guys with guns I think you’ll need to throw in a virgin.  Actually, make it two.  Gawd tells Me you’re a big cheerleader for something called “abstinence only”, so you must be up to your ears in virgins.

  So that only leaves the method of the president’s demise.  Traditionally, I’m a thunderbolt-and-wind kind of guy, with the odd freak drowning thrown in.  But the Hel & Ragnarok-damned brand-loyalists are a little thin on the ground right now and only a handful of deities have the juice to whip up a really theatrical smiting these days.  It’s kind of ironic, really.  Gawd could do it, but He’s been on vacation as long as I’ve known Him, (besides that, He’s a notoriously bad shot with a thunderbolt).  Allah’s followers give Him the stuff for some pretty flashy miracleing, but He and Muhammad never seem to do anything but cruise for pre-pubescent girls.  That Hindu bunch could really lay some waste, if they weren’t always laying each other, researching Kama Sutra II, The Second Coming.  And, of course, there’s Buddha, but like His bumper sticker says, “Buddha Don’t Smite.”

  So you’ve got two choices of smite and I’ll get started as soon as you’ve chosen.  If you’re a traditionalist and want to go with thunderbolts, if I get a good run-up on a shag carpet I could give him a really nasty static shock… which I may have to repeat a number of times to actually kill him.  Patience would be key in that scenario and I don’t think you’re any more patient than I am.  Or, I could go with a farm-related smiting.  I might be able to pull off an exploding cow, but it’s more likely to work if I leave a rake lying on the  White House lawn and wait for him to step on it.  Let Me know.



Dear “Reserve A Spot In Heaven™”…

Retail Sales

Portable Merchandise Booth, Foot of Stairway to Heaven

Dear Sirs,

  I find Myself conflicted.  I can’t decide whether to be wrathful or not, or, if so, how wrathful to be.  When I started getting flooded with postcards asking for reservation confirmations I was, at first, confused – but then just about as wrathful as I was that time I sent Jeremiah around with a goblet full of wrath for all the nations I didn’t like to take a big ol’ gulp from.  “Jeremiah”, I said, “Take from My hand this cup filled with the wine of My wrath unto all the nations who piss Me off – and make the bitches drink.”

  You, sirs, came this close to getting a Super Big Gulp cup full to the brim with Divine Whoop-Ass.

  But then I thought, “Hey… these frickin’ guys must be making pots of cash off this deal.”  At which point you again came very, very close to “Having a drink with Jeremiah”.  But My Divine Nature reasserted itself just in the nick of time and it occurred to Me that your operation could very well be a force for good.

  By “force for good”, of course, I mean “few extra spondoolicks in My pocket”.

  So, unless you want to have that “drink with Jeremiah” in the form of My solicitors, (Fire, Brimstome & Wrath, LLC), with the biggest, fattest lawsuit you could possibly imagine, I propose a little business deal.  Gawd, Inc. hereby tenders an offer for 51% of your company stock in exchange for one Widow’s Mite and your continued habitation of this plane of existence.

  All in favor?  Aye.

  All opposed?  …  Anyone?  I thought not.  The ayes have it.

  Now, as your new majority shareholder, I think a few minor changes are in order.  First, your disclaimer needs to tone down on the “we in no way can guarantee entry into Heaven” stuff.  Obviously, it needs to be in there – I’m no liar* and I’m sure as Hell not letting anyone onto My property – but it doesn’t have to be so obtrusive.  Let the poor SOB’s dream a little.

  Second, I don’t know where you got your price points from, but they’re all out of whack.  $12.95 for the basic package?  Get real.  I don’t get out of bed for less than $1,000… and then I may not even bother to put on a bathrobe.  What you need to do is make it 12 Easy Payments of $95.  That way, the customer is certain they’re getting something valuable and I’m certain I can pay My bar tab.

  Also, your website needs testimonials.  The only people who have ever been to Heaven are Me, My boys and assorted Cherubim and Seraphim who do the gardening… oh, and the ex-wife.  (But forget about her; there’s no telling what kind of unhelpful crap that bitch would say.)  So start with this one – (ahem):

  “The rooms are spacious and well-appointed, the service is first-rate and it’s convenient to the shops in the Orion Nebula.  I give it five halos!”

~An influential and well-known deity

  It’s been good doing business with you and remember, as the new effective head of Reserve &tc., My door is always open.**

Wish You Were Here,


*For a given definition of “liar”.

**Presuming you don’t try to enter it or speak to Me through it.

Dear Homosexual Pagan Penguins…

Pagan PenguinSomewhere on the Front Lines of the War On America

Dear Dastardly Deviants,

  For eons I have been getting postcards begging Me to smite homosexuals.  For nearly 2,000 years I’ve been getting postcards begging Me to smite Pagans.  And for about 9 years I’ve been getting postcards begging Me to smite penguins.  But now, what with Newt Gingrich alerting Me and My brand-loyalists to the imminent takeover of the US by Pagans and Focus on the Family making everyone aware of the dire threat that gay penguins pose, My mailbox has been flooded with smiting requests for you.

  I know you’re wondering, “What the hell did I do to deserve that?  WACK!  WACK!”  And the answer is, of course, “nothing”.  You’re just sort of in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Every once in a while I take ten minutes from My vacation and toss My brand-loyalists a bone in the form of an ambiguous smiting.  Most of the time, My boys, who are responsible for the daily operation of Gawd, Inc. these days, will do a quick food-related sighting like the recent Marmite Miracle, (though I have My suspicions that They subcontracted it out to Frank Zappa).  Awesome miraculous feats of that type are usually enough to keep everyone tithing at acceptable levels.

  However, with this global recession, tithing has been tailing off alarmingly.  So I’m going to have to whip up a major, super-duper, miraculous smiting of what some might call Biblical Proportions… while waiting for My flight out of Frankfurt International Airport.

  Now, before you start crying “Fowl,” and whining that you never hurt anyone, or pointing out that in any one time and place there are never more than a third of you who are gay, or that only about a dozen of you would characterize yourselves as truly Pagan; let Me just make a couple of points.

  First, it’s classic Darwinianism, (which I know you all believe in – don’t deny it).  I’m an all-powerful deity and thus much stronger, (or “fitter”), than you.  Therefore, I must survive.  It’s the law.  Survival, for Me, means constant, generous tithing from My brand-loyalists.  To make that happen, there must be occasional miraculous smitings.  So, like it or not, I’m going to have to miracle your asses something awful.

  Second, the fact that a flightless, polar waterfowl even exists causes My Chosen People, the Atheists, to chuckle behind My back.  If you look at My history with Chosen Peoples you’ll see that I’m never very comfortable with them being happy or amused for long.  So, as I’m sure you’ll agree, you have to go.  But, if it makes you feel any better, the platypus is next.

  However, never let it be said that Gawd doesn’t have a twisted sense of humor.  In order to fill My brand-loyalist miracle expectations I’m going to smite you with – (and I think you’ll get a kick out of the elegant irony) – Global Warming.  Yeah.  I’m going to melt the glaciers and flood your islands.  You won’t know whether you’re coming or going.  But neither will My brand-loyalists.  They generally don’t believe in all this “so-called ‘global warming’ stuff”.  So they won’t know whether to keep begging for your smiting or to beg for Global Warming to be a hoax.

  In the end, it’s all the same for Me.  Miracle delivered.  Collection plates full.

Wish You Were Here,