Monthly Archives: October 2009

Dear Atheist Foundation of Australia…

Denial of Service

Where Women Glow and Men Chunder

Dear Chosen Ozians,

  Are you trying to make the Baby Jesii cry?  If you go through with your planned… er… plan of Divine Denial of Service, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.  I know you mean to put Me, personally, offline because of something one of My brand-loyalists did to you, which I can understand.  Believe Me, I know what it’s like to attack someone for something someone else did.  Been there; done that; designed the t-shirt.

  However, I’m not sure you understand how this prayer thing works.  That’s understandable, as you tend to think along the lines of reality-based actions, whereas My brand-loyalists fully grasp the ways of the meta-natural, super-physicality that is My domain.  It’s ineffable.  You wouldn’t get it.  My old pal Cthulhu’s minion, PZ Myers, almost has it right.

“[A]ll modern prayers are first funneled through a 110 baud modem, then passed further upstairs by telegraph, then pony express riders gallop it over to the Pearly Gates, and then a rewritten version is passed on to a team of long-dead Sumerian scribes for transcription into cuneiform on wax plates, and then and only then is it in a format that a bronze age patriarchal deity can understand.”

  But, the crucial bit of the chain he is missing is that those wax plates are then stored in a warehouse complex outside of Santa Fe, NM for safekeeping. I never actually look at them.  To be honest, I got a C- in Cuneiform in school.  If it hadn’t been for cheating off of Enki, I probably would have failed the class.   The only prayers that I actually receive are those which are handwritten on postcards and mailed to Me at whichever hotel I happen to be staying in at the time.  So all you’re going to do is make extra work for the telegraphers, riders, scribes and forklift operators.

  Normally, this wouldn’t bother Me, since I don’t pay those guys, anyway.  The problem here is with My boys, the Jesii.  That 110 baud modem is what They use to access the interwebs.  You can take it from Me that if Republican Jesus can’t get on to and Hippy Jesus can’t download Peter, Paul & Mary mp3’s, there will be some weeping and gnashing of teeth.

  Actually, the real problem is that if the Jesii start calling Me up while I’m on vacation, whingeing away about no access to blogs, music and porn, I’m liable to start smiting.  As you are a subset of My Chosen People, the atheists, I know you understand the way I deal with problems.  I won’t take out My annoyance on the Jesii, who will actually be bothering Me, I’ll take it out on you by causing a hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico next hurricane season.  I’ll take it out on you by smiting a telephone repairman in Sweden with lightning.  I’ll take it out on you by causing a statistically insignificant rise in the number of miscarriages in Alabama.  If I’m really cheesed off I’ll take it out on you by not helping some of My brand-loyalists find their missing car keys.

  By now, I know that you’re literally quaking in your cork-festooned hats.  You can thank your lucky stars, (and by “your lucky stars”, I mean “Me”), that you didn’t come up with a Divine Denial of Service that would have inconvenienced Me, personally.  In that case, you would have had a lawsuit from Fire, Brimstone & Wrath, LLC in your hands faster than you could say “G’day”.

Wish You Were Here,



Dear Large Hadron Collider Science Guys…

higgs_bosonBig Hole in the Ground, Geneva, Switzerland

Dear Sciencers,

  This morning, when the hotel sent up My breakfast Filet Mignon avec Sauce Bernaise, they included a newspaper – which I don’t normally have any use for – and I nearly choked on the Chateau Rotschild.

  It seems My old nemesis, the Higgs boson, is up to his old tricks.  Oh, I hate that particle!  As two of your colleagues, Nielsen and Ninomiya, pointed out, I abhor a Gawd particle.  I mean, it just makes My teeth itch!  Why, you may ask, do I hate it so?  Well, far be it for a classy deity such as Myself to drag personal issues onto a public stage, so I’ll just say that the Higgs boson knows what it did.  I can take a joke as well as the next deity, but some things simply aren’t funny.

  Now it’s practicing its singularly un-funny brand of practical joking on you.

  Actually, just between you and Me, it does seem a bit funnier when it’s happening to someone else.  But that’s beside the point.  The point is that no one and nothing gets away with putting a whoopee cushion on My seat in the Deity Club dining room playing crass and tasteless “jokes” on an important and serious deity.  That will not stand.

  In fact, I’m often appalled at what passes for humor these days.  I shouldn’t be at all surprised if Higgs boson has been giving ideas to Sarah Silverman.  Her spectacularly not-at-all-funny proposal to sell off all of My bank’s assets just to buy lunch for a bunch of people who will only be hungry again later, leaves Me cold.  Well, I say “cold”, but “Fucking Flaming” might be a better description.  I mean, where does she get off trying to stick Me with the bill for feeding the world?  Like it’s somehow My responsibility.  If people are hungry, they can buy their own Filet Mignon avec Sauce Bernaise.  Jesii!  Peckish?  Let them eat steak, I say.  I’m not stopping them – but I’m not picking up the tab, either.

  So, look.  The best way to show Higgs boson that serious people like you and I don’t appreciate school-yard humour, is for you to get back to work finding it and for Me to go about My usual vacation activities as if no sophomoric pranks had reared their ugly heads.  As one of My favorite U.S. presidents said, “Something something something just keep shopping something something.”

Wish You Were Here,


Dear Conservapedia…

Conservative Bible

Somewhere On the Front Lines of the Culture War

Dear True Americans,

  I am verklempt.  It’s so seldom that someone gets Me.  I mean, really gets Me.  I’ve been complaining about that frickin’ unauthorized biography for nearly 6,000 years.  Well before the advent of the written word in the Middle East, in fact.  And now, finally, someone is doing something about it.

  You have no idea how many times that namby-pamby, non-revenue-generating collection of crap has made Republican Jesus cry… and not just when He was a baby.  The problem, as I see you’ve noticed, is that the one of My two idiot much-beloved sons people are most familiar with is Hippy Jesus.  And Hippy Jesus, although I love Him, (I guess), He can come off as a bit of a weak sister.  Thankfully, you’ve addressed that in point number 2, or as I like to think of it, “Commandment The Second”.

2:  Not Emasculated: avoiding unisex, “gender inclusive” language, and other modern emasculation of Christianity

  As well as Commandments The Fourth, The Seventh, The Eight and The Tenth.

4:  Utilize Powerful Conservative Terms: using powerful new conservative terms as they develop;[4] defective translations use the word “comrade” three times as often as “volunteer”; similarly, updating words which have a change in meaning, such as “word”, “peace”, and “miracle”.

7:  Express Free Market Parables; explaining the numerous economic parables with their full free-market meaning

8:  Exclude Later-Inserted Liberal Passages: excluding the later-inserted liberal passages that are not authentic, such as the adulteress story

10:  Prefer Conciseness over Liberal Wordiness: preferring conciseness to the liberal style of high word-to-substance ratio; avoid compound negatives and unnecessary ambiguities; prefer concise, consistent use of the word “Lord” rather than “Jehovah” or “Yahweh” or “Lord God.”

  Especially Commandment The Fourth.  Boy, the stories I could tell you about how word meanings change.  You are so right about “peace”.  Most people today seem to think it means something about not fighting or, often, some drivel about finding non-violent solutions to problems.  If you look it up, (and usually I subscribe to your view that facts have a nasty, liberal bias), you’ll see that one of the definitions of the word is an absence of strife or hostility.  As far as that goes, it’s right.  But how do you arrive at that state?  By stomping the other guy into jelly.  By dashing the heads of [Fill In The Blank]ite women and children against any handy rocks.  By opening the old Windows of Heaven until the last gurgling screams of all those sinful, annoying people you created in your image are finally swallowed up by a world-spanning sea.  That’s how.

  At least, that’s what “peace” used to mean.  Now?  Tch.  I hardly recognize the word.

  Also, I’m glad to see that you’re taking logic back from scientists, skeptics, sane people, Aristotle and others of My New Chosen People, the atheists.

6:  Accept the Logic of Hell: applying logic with its full force and effect, as in not denying or downplaying the very real existence of Hell or the Devil.

  Hear, hear.  What could be more logical, I often ask the other deities over drinks, than locking the people who piss Me off in My basement for eternity with a professional sadist?  I challenge anyone to assail the logic of that.

  Mostly, though, it’s Commandment The Seventh that makes Me think that this whole Earth Project has been worthwhile.  “Full, free-market meaning.”  I like the way that rolls off the Almighty Tongue.  As you may know, ever since the unauthorized biography came out, someone else has been making a killing off of My intellectual property.  Actually, if you want to get technical – and I do – since I made everything, everything belongs to Me.  So anything anyone doesn’t turn over to My banker/collection agency, (The Church), is just filthy, socialist, communist thievery.

  As I know you and I are on the same page when it comes to socialism and socialists, (you know, like the Nazi Party and the Democrat Party), I can’t wait for you to finish your translation and start selling copies of the new, authorized, Free-Market version of My biography.  Frankly, I could use the cash.  My vacation schedule is gruelling and it soaks up an astonishing amount of money.

Wish You Were Here,


P.S. – I’m thinking a title change is in order, too.  “Bible” is so Bronze Age.  I’m thinking, Gawd Shrugged.  Catchy, eh?

Dear St. Eutychus…


Dear Yute,

  I hope you don’t mind the salutation.  I just like to have nicknames for everyone.  Easier to keep straight.  To be honest, though, I’m not sure I remember who you are.  Are you the one who gave half his cloak to a poor widow?  Or the patron saint of stomach aches?  Or just one of those tedious, “I got eaten by lions” type of saints?  I know you’re not the patron saint of beer brewers; that’s good old Boniface of Mainz.  One of only three I actually approved.

  Well, it doesn’t really matter.  I’ll just assume there was a perfectly valid reason to canonize you.  The Pope owed you money or you poked a hundred children without the church having to bail you out; whatever.

  I’ve dropped you this postcard not to find out who you are or what you did, but to congratulate you on an excellent bit of writing.  Your “Five Things That Would Make Atheists Seem Nicer” is a masterpiece of reasoned discourse and I couldn’t agree with you more.

  For starters, that bit about how smug they are?  Ha!  Don’t I know it.  For instance, I’ll be having a few drinks with some of My Chosen Atheists and it’ll be PZ’s roundand I’ll say, “Hey!  It’s your round.  Where’s My beer,” and he’ll be all, “You don’t exist.  People would think I was crazy if I spent money on a figment of someone else’s imagination.”  You know.  Then he’ll smirk in that smug, atheist way of his and I’ll end up paying not only for My own booze, but everyone else’s when My round comes up.  I try using their argument against them, but Dawkins always brings up Pascal and convinces me that, just in case I do exist, it wouldn’t be fair for Me to skip My round.  It’s almost like they’re taking the piss, you know?  It really chaps My Holy Fundament.

  And that second point of yours?  I’m always telling My Chosen People to relax and not be so paranoid.  Not every single bit of evangelism is about them.  Hell, some of it’s directed at different types of filthy, Gawdless sinners who are most probably going to spend all of eternity roasting in GitmoHell.  I mean, Hippy Jesus!  Get over yourselves, right?  You brand-loyalists have got plenty of other people to pester, like Druids and Muslims and fags.

  My favorite advice was your heartfelt urge for atheists to believe whatever you tell them, through the use of a subtle and complex argument about a hypothetical deity who meddles in people’s lives and communicates through a book of crazy stories and contradictory commandments.  Oh, snap!  That ought to shut ’em up.  of course, I don’t know any deities like that and I’ve pretty much met them all, but that’s not the point, is it?  The point is, they haven’t met all the deities, so what the hell do they know?  If they just agree with everything you say, they’ll certainly seem nicer.

  Obviously, they won’t be nicer.  A leopard can’t change his shorts, am I right?  Well, evolutionarily he can, but you and I don’t believe in that hogwash, do we?  never seen a dog have kittens, eh?

  Which reminds Me, your advice about the so-called “scientific method” is sure to make those filthy commies My Chosen People seem nicer.  If they’d just admit that their proven method of looking at the universe is a) not what they say it is, but what you say it is and b) wrong, wrong, wrong, abused by them and wrong, then they’d be able to successfully wear the facade of niceness.

  And then there’s the way My very own Chosen Atheists are always making Me out to be some sort of simplistic, two-dimensional absentee-landlord who never heals amputees.  I can’t recall, right off the top of My head, why I don’t call people on the phone or heal amputated legs or any of that sort of thing, but if they’d just ask you, or any other of My brand-loyalists, then I’m sure accepting whatever answer they get would make them seem almost human.  Then they’d stop with all the straw man nonsense.  ‘Cause, boy, do I hate straw men.  Just ask ray Bolger.  I smote the hell out of his bladder after I saw The Wizard of Oz.

  So, keep up the good work and do whatever it is that saints do, and if you ever need Me… well, you’re shit out of luck, actually.  I’m on vacation.  But remember, I loooooove you more than anything in the entire universe and, um, “a sparrow doesn’t fall” and all that stuff… as far as you know.

Wish You Were Here,