Dear Albert Mohler…

C/O BioLogos Foundation, 6549 Mission Gorge Rd., San Diego, CA  92120


  Don’t piss Me off, Mohler.  Just… don’t.  This universe I built just 6,000 years ago is ageing prematurely?  Groaning?  Are you saying that I can’t build a universe that won’t shrug off a little sin?  Mohler, you are trying the Lord thy Gawd’s patience and, bad for you, I don’t really have any.  I ought to give you a brain aneurism right now.  I really, really want to.  My trigger finger gets itchy every time I think of you.  Do you know how many people get away with insulting Me?  Not many, that’s how many.  But I promised Hippy Jesus I’d keep it down to statistically probable numbers and I’m right at the edge with 1.89999999 deaths per second and if I give you anal syphilis or sinus herpes or something it will put Me over.

  So you lucked out, you noisome little bug.  In a manner of speaking, that is.

  I’m not going to kill you.  I’m not even going to give you the Job treatment, (frankly, because that’s just more micro-managing than I want to do while on vacation).  I mean, who has the time to kill your children, then hang around and knock down your house and then come back twenty minutes later just to give you boils?  There are hotels all over the world just begging to pamper Me and I see no reason to disappoint them.  No; I’m going to use something a little more fire-and-forget.

  Albert Mohler, for the heinous sin of disparaging My handiwork, (which somebody’s going to be groaning under the weight of, I can tell you)… I curse you!

  How do you like that, eh?  You illegitimate son of a squashed cockroach, eunuchs will laugh at you!  May your pomegranates wither, thou bum-loving Gitite!  And I don’t mean “pomegranates” the fruit things, I mean your pomegranate things… you know, down there.  You get what I’m saying?  I’m talking about… oh, you know what I mean, you… pooface!

  Now fuck off, and the next time you lose your car keys, don’t come praying to Me.

Wish You Were Here,



5 responses to “Dear Albert Mohler…

  1. I’m not sure how a universe shows signs of premature aging.

    Does it suddenly develop liver spots and wrinkles? Can it go bald and suddenly have trouble peeing? Do its boobs begin to sag, and might it feel compelled to shoot its face full of Botox? Will it start to forget the names of some of its most distant planets, or drone on and on with the same old stories about its favorite stars.

    I’m so glad that our universe is still a teenager, a very young and vibrant 6,000. Keep an eye on it, though, Gawd. Remember: You can’t trust a universe over 30 (thousand years old). When it starts reminiscing about old TV shows, destroy it.

  2. Oh my Gawd! What on earth is sinus herpes?

    Is that some present day sinus leprosy? Can hippie Jesus heal it?

  3. Larry,
    It also learns to play botchi ball and yells, “You aliens get off my lawn!”

    Hippy Jesus can heal it, but Republican Jesus is going to make you pay for the treatment.

  4. Those New Atheists dudes have been blamed for everything from acne to shitty popular music. Now that Mohler has also saddled them with the universe’s premature aging, the list of their sins should be complete. One can only hope. Or smite, if smiting lies within one’s power.

    • If by “smite” you mean cause bad things to happen to them so that they fall within a bell curve of “statistically-probable bad things happening to people”, then relax. Gawd is on it.

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