Dear Archaeologists…

Somewhere In Turkey

Dear Nosy Parkers,

  My lawyers, Fire, Brimstone & Wrath, LLC, recently alerted Me to the fact that you’ve been digging through My business records.  Consider this a friendly, (and by “friendly” I mean “threatening”), warning to cease and desist.  Where and how I came up with the idea and wording for My covenant with the Israelites is none of your damned business.

  And anyway, it’s perfectly normal to steal copy borrow from other companies when writing up contracts.  Just because I used an Assyrian template when Abraham and I hammered out the contract between Gawd & Sons, Inc. and Chosen People Corp. doesn’t make it any less binding on the party of the second part.  Whether or not the Assyrians thought of it first is immaterial to the main contract points of eternal worship of Me and complete subjugation of Chosen People Corp. to My every whim.  Furthermore, simply pointing out that some Assyrian wonk got there ahead of Me re: covenant negotiation does not release My former Chosen People, (and all subsequent genetic copies, friends, acquaintances, enemies and fellow humans of same in perpetuity), from recognizing the authority of My successors, Republican and Hippy Jesus.

  You know, it’s always chapped My Holy Ass that you guys are snooping in My Divine Business.  I thought when I planted Piltdown Man I’d be able to “Gotcha!” you for once.  But you had to get all sciencey and figure it out.  If I’d wanted you to know every little thing that went on in the rough and tumble early days I’d have dropped you a postcard.  So lay off, already, okay?

  In the interest of appearing to be a kind and loving Gawd, (which I am and anyone who says I’m not can expect a nasty plague of boils followed by terminal hemorrhoids), I’ll give you a freebie.  Whenever you find evidence of a massacre in antiquity or baby sacrifice or widespread child-buggery… the Jews did it.

Wish You Were Here,

~Gawd

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28 responses to “Dear Archaeologists…

  1. Somehow, Gawd, your negotiations with Abraham reminded me of this.

  2. I thought Gawd was going to say that He had revealed his laws to the Asyrians, too, and that there was no conflict at all. But I suppose He is just being honest.

  3. But if we go back as close as we can to the original source, or, at the very least, as close as we can to the way it was origionally written, don’t we come close to Gawds errant word? After all, every translation screws up the unalterable Truth; every tanscription error changes that which Gawd wrote (and wrot) which is unchanging, right?

    So which version of Gawd’s biography is the actual, unaltered, unbowdlerized Truth?

    • Actually, the ghostwriter hasn’t finished the authorized version. He ‘s still waiting on the check to clear.

      • As long as he’s not waiting for the Slovak to clear.

        • Oh, (((Billy)))… I expected better of you. But, looking on the bright side, I’m sure the world waits with baited breath on the comedy stylings of that classic duo of (((Billy))) Atheist & Fozzi Bear. “(((Billy))) & Fozzi”; “(((Billy))) & The Bear”; “Fozzi & The Atheist”. Whichever. I’m sure you’ll come up with a name that trips lightly off the tongue.

  4. If I’d wanted you to know every little thing that went on in the rough and tumble early days I’d have dropped you a postcard.

    In the olden days, postcards were made of stone, so it’s probably Gawd didn’t go around dropping them too freely. An awful lot of people would have been running around with broken heads. Just think what a terrible mess the world would be if that had happened.

    Then again, the world is a tad messy, so maybe Gawd sent more stones postcards than I realized.

  5. It’s probably good that Gawd didn’t drop stones more freely, etc., etc., etc….

    Damn. Leave town for a few days and completely forget how to write a coherent sentence. Perhaps I should have written it in Italian.

  6. Gawd, as one fisher, well, ‘entity’ (I suppose “fisherman” would be kind of unseemly) I must ask you a question: what do you use for bait?

    Or, do you simply zot the water causing some atomic thing to happen? You know, nuclear fishin’?

    NO! NOT THE ‘ROIDS! I TAKE IT BACK! I TAKE IT BAAAAAAAAK!! AAAUUGGH!

  7. Doh! There! You did it again! You did it again! If I didn’t know better, I’d think you weren’t taking this eternal-damnation-with-sulphurous-underpants thing seriously.

  8. Well, Gawd, what do you expect?

    You let some guy shoot me in the head, and give me “Witzlsucht”, that’s what happens.

    Then again, my geneologist mother is hot on the trail of this ancestor from the Rheinland, Ra PUN zel. So, maybe you’re off the hook…but if you knew me before I was formed (back during the era of proto-time?) surely you saw that coming?

    So, I shall have no mercy for you! NUN, I say, NUN! (Thanx, Billy ;-))

    • Getting shot in the head makes you a pathological punster?! (I did have to look that up.)
      Good thing you didn’t catch one in the tuchus.

      As for Gawd knowing you before you were formed, well, He says that’s mostly PR. And if that was a sort of double entendre, He may be the Catholics’ Gawd, too, but He’s never “known” anyone that young.

      • The head shot, along with one in the hip happened in 1968.
        Your followers in the army decided that since the head shot merely creased the helmet, broke the liner straps, and left me with a hue lump and external cut, all was well, they took it on faith that it wasn’t serious.
        Inside was a subdural hematoma which has caused a mixed seizure disorder, including the temporal lobe kind which include the “witzlsucht” syndrome, which does, indeed, cause one to pun inordinbately. But you already knew that, didn’t you?
        Actually, watching people writhe in discomfort when I start punning is kind of fun…thanks!

        And, as well you know, in 1971 I got a bullet in the shoulder, my face smashed and shredded, and DID a piece of shrapnel in my tuchus. All in the space of two minutes. It’s been lots of fun, thanks for the experience.

        On family nights when my sons were small, I used to read them stories, but they would say, “No Dad! Tell us about when ya got hit in the butt”! How those gay hours passed with hilarity. Well, not necessarily mine…

        I’m told that this was your doing to “bring me to the true path”.

        Still goin’ my own way…but then you knew that, bein’ omniscient and all…

        Thanks a lot

        • Sheesh, Sarge. That puts my search for a new apartment into perspective, doesn’t it?
          Also, in order not to seem like a wimp, I will say that Gawd allowed me to be bitten on the hand by a Brown Recluse spider while I was in basic training. So, quite a bit like Viet Nam, I should think.
          If nothing else, I would have thought that reading His postcards would have shown you that Gawd’s “true path” simply consists of “tithe, tithe and tithe again”.
          Personally speaking, I’m glad your own way brings you ’round here.

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