Monthly Archives: March 2010

Dear Consumers…

Dear Brand-Loyalists Not Currently in Bankruptcy or Foreclosure,

  Passing through Athens International Airport recently, I was waiting in the Swissport Executive Lounge and came across a book some other, (but obviously lesser), VIP had left behind.  The title didn’t seem to make much sense, but I had an hour to kill, so I thumbed through it.

  People, it changed My life.  Not by what the book had to say, so much.  For one thing, it was sadly lacking in smiting, freaky sex and, above all, Me.  On the other hand, the entire idea of the book was like a lightbulb switching on in My Holy Brain.  It was almost enough to convince Me to leave the omniscience on all the time, just so I could constantly have these kinds of amazing ideas.

  So, here’s My genius idea.  I’m going to write a book and call it Gawd Is Your Thing You Really Want at the Moment You Read This Book Title.  The book I pinched found was titled [somebody or other] Is Your New Bicycle, which is pretty good, but I think Mine covers a lot more ground, thus tempting more of you to buy it.  Of course, when I say “write” I mean “inspire someone else to write”.  And when I say “inspire”, I mean “promise to pay”.

  Each page will point out something I’ve done for you which will make you feel as if you owe Me even more than the obligatory tithe.  For instance, page one might say:

Gawd made His son, who is also Him, sacrifice Himself in a really painful way to appease Himself for your sins.

  Possibly, that can be trimmed a little, but you get the idea.  The genius of it is that the truth or untruth of the statement is immaterial.  It’s all about how guilty or grateful or warm & fuzzy it makes you feel.

Gawd helped you move a sofa.

  Or maybe,

Gawd created the US of A to be a Christian nation.

  How about,

Gawd helped your Gramma across a busy street.


Gawd flooded a major city to save it from The Gay.

Gawd gave you a lift from the airport in His limousine.

Gawd found your lost car keys.

Gawd wiped out the [fill in the blank]ites so you could have a little lebensraum.

Gawd rinsed out your breakfast bowl.

  Sounds like just the sort of thing you’d be happy to pay $19.95 for, doesn’t it?  Just think of it.  Any time you’re faced with something uncomfortable, like reality, for instance, you could just flip your copy open to a random page and get a little psychological comfort.  The beauty is that it simply doesn’t matter if what you read in My book is “true” or “real” or “helpful in any concrete way” or “nothing but word salad”.  As long s you believe it, (And why wouldn’t you?  It says so right there in the book.), as long as you punch anyone who denies it in the eye and scream, “Help!  I’m being persecuted,” it might as well be true, right?

  So keep an eye on your local brand-loyalist bookstore for the leather-bound collector’s edition.

Wish You Were Here,



Dear Pet Owners…

Dear Pet-Owning Brand-Loyalists,

  Hi, it’s your Lord & Saviour, Jesus H. Christ.  (The real one, that is, not My hippy brother.)  It’s come to My attention that you have been keeping animals for reasons that Dad and Me have never condonedI recently had to remind a couple of slacking brand loyalists what animals are for, but I don’t have the time to appear in every grilled cheese sandwich in the world.  So I’m sending out this mimeographed postcard.

  There have ever only been four uses for animals of any kind and I’m a little pissed off that I have to spell it out for you.

  1. Sacrificing.  That was the original reason Dad made them in the first place.  While they may not smell so great when wet, once you pop ’em on the barbecue the aroma is intoxicating.  Addictive, really.  Just ask my stoner brother.  It’s because of His slacker ass We’ve all had to cut back.  Which doesn’t mean you can’t light up Mister Frisky as long as you sacrifice it to Dad and/or Me.  We’re not supposed to enable old patchouli breath.
  2. Hunting.  It’s perfectly acceptable to stalk them, terrorize them, kill them and mount their heads above your fireplaces.  Dad always said that, because of a slight design flaw, the only way to stop you from wiping each other out, (thus ruining His planned vacation), was to give you something else to destroy.  So, when your wife just won’t shut up and can’t get it through her blond noggin that you are the head of the house, it’s part of Dad’s Grand Design™ for you to haul off and kick Bandit right in the ribs, chase him through the neighborhood and plug him with a .30-06.
  3. Eating.  Don’t be confused.  This is not related to hunting in any way.  Dad invented restaurants and grocery stores for a reason.  I hope I don’t have to explain this one.
  4. Temporary demon receptacles.  This wasn’t in the original design specs, but I found out how great they are for this while doing an old demon buddy a solid once.  So if you’re unlucky enough to have a gay son or something like that, you can always stuff it in your schnauzer.

  These are the only reasons to have anything at all to do with… Oh, wait.  They’re also good for dressing up in crazy costumes and making dance on YouTube.  So, these are the only five reasons condoned by Me, your Lord & Saviour, and Dad, Lord Gawd Almighty.

  If you’ve got a little baby kitten or a golden retriever or something and you’re not cooking it, chasing it, eating it, injecting it with Pure Evil or giving it a tutu, you’d better be on the way to the shelter to put it down.  It’s not like it’s going to create more tithing brand loyalists or convince an atheist to come over from the dark side.

Your Best Pal,

Republican Jesus

Dear Sarah Palin…

C/O Fox News, 1211 Ave. of the Americas, NY, NY 10036

Sarah, Sarah, Sarah,

  I thought we were compadres.  I thought we were pals.  I thought we had an understanding.  You don’t make a fuss about Me using the Gawd-O-Prompter 1.0 and I won’t tell the full story about your retard unfortunate child.  But you didn’t stick to your promise.  You, in effect, broke a covenant with Gawd.  Do you have any idea what happens to people who do that?  They lose their car keys!  They sometimes have flat tires!  At some point in their lives, lightening will strike within a three-mile radius!  The full-on Job treatment!  Chaos!  Ruin!  Dogs and cats living together!  Mass hysteria!

  Don’t imagine that, just because I’m in semi-retirement, I won’t open up a can of Old Testament Whoop Ass™ on you.  Don’t imagine that, just because I and My favorite son are admirers of the Teabagger movement, I won’t make your life a living Abilene, TX and sentence you to an eternity on a US Airways flight.  Believe Me, the Philistines didn’t call Me “that vindictive bastard” for nothing.  Just ask the dinosaurs, (and, by the way, don’t believe any anti-flood propoganda you hear about them).

  My point, Sarah, is – “You don’t mess with Me and I won’t send a couple of she-bears around to rough you up.”

  Now that we’ve gotten all the unpleasantness out of the way, how’s your new job treating you?  Number One Son, Republican Jesus, tells Me that if you want to get to the top there, your best bet is to shout, shout and shout again.  I should keep that in mind if I were you.

  I’m going to cut this short, Sarah.  Not just because it’s a strain to pretend I care about your, (or anyone’s), life, but also because the limo is pulling up to My hotel.  Just remember My threat suggestion and things should go as well for you and yours as anyone else, statistically speaking.

Wish You Were Here,


God Can’t Come to the Internets Right Now…

  Gawd is in the middle of a particularly intricate stage of His vacation at the moment.  By this, of course, I mean the 9th hole at Augusta.  On top of that, due to personal and professional situations which, I’m certain, wouldn’t interest you in the least, Gawd’s Postman simply couldn’t be bothered to deliver mail, even if Gawd were writing any.  Which He’s not, so the point is moot.

  However, here are a few things that Gawd has mentioned He might fire off a postcard about.