Dear Pope Ratzi…

Somewhere In The Land of Evil Atheists

Dear Ratty,

  I was browsing the duty-free shop in Madrid Airport today and found Myself thinking of Nazis.  Then, for some reason, children.  The combination, naturally, made me think of child-rape; which, in turn, lead to you.  Then I thought how sort of ironic it was that thinking of Nazis, children and kiddy-rape would cause Me to think of My favorite Hitler Youth.  It was right then, and this is where it gets kind of spooky, that I spotted the attached music box.  I saw it and I couldn’t resist.

Wish You Were here,



Dear People of the Book…

Earth, Sol System, Milky Way

Dear Brand-Loyalists, Former Chosen People and Allah’s Misguided Hellbound Suckers,

  You may have recently heard a wild rumour that My immutable laws of physics vary from place to place in the universe.  This uncomfortable thought may leave you with niggling doubts that I created the entire thing solely for your pleasure and use.  In fact, some of you may have been wondering why I would create something for you which you can’t use the vast majority of, can’t physically reach or even see.  Let Me assure you that nothing could be farther from the truth… as far as you know.

  Further, let Me categorically state that you were not a mistake I made in a lab class in Deity School.  Any idea that the 14 billion year old universe I whipped up in six days 6,000 years ago was not entirely so that you would have a place to live while you sing songs about how great I am and give Me money on a weekly basis is pure poppycock.

  I assure you that all those wars you’ve fought in My name have not only been at My ultimate behest and for the best of all those other people you killed, but also an integral part of My over-all ineffable universal plan.  Which, by the way, is, as I say, ineffable.  So don’t try to understand it.  You are not equipped to eff it.

  Also, those of you who have been scratching your heads about My omnipotence might want to ponder this little thought.  Could it be that I have created different parts of the universe with different physics so that somewhere in the Gamma-Zed-& quadrant I can make a rock that’s too heavy for Me to lift?  I think you and I both know the answer to that question.

  Any of you who have inadvertently begun thinking and are wondering, “If Gawd created this universe, then who created Gawd,” can shut your mental pieholes.    There are some things you’re not allowed to think about.  Actually, there are a lot of things you’re not allowed to think about, but this is right up there in the top five.  Besides, that’s a personal question that only someone rude and ill-bred would ask.

  Some of you by now, (though I hope not), have let your imaginations get the better of you and are beginning to wonder why a loving and perfect deity, (Me, in this case), would allow so much, (or, indeed, any), suffering and evil to exist.  Well, since you seem to like exercising your brains, let’s play a game of word-jumble.  Make a coherent sentence of this:  cakehole whinging your shut so again plan fucking ineffable My to down it’s.

  These answers may have led a few of you to wonder why I, a perfect deity, would need humans to constantly sing My praises and give Me money.  First of all, what’s the use of being perfect if no one knows?  Second, there are only two other ways to get money.  I could magic it into existence, just like the entire universe, but that would cause rampant inflation and I’d have to magic more and more and more until the economy could no longer support five-star hotels, first class travel and filet mignon avec sauce bernaise.  I think you and I would both be very sad to see that happen.  Conversely, I could do like you and work for it, (this includes stealing), but I don’t think anyone would like to see the omnipotent creator of everything lower Himself to that level.

  A number of you may still be mulling over questions like, “If Gawd knows everything, then how can there be such a thing as free will,” or “Why would an all-knowing, all-loving, all-powerful Gawd design me with a bad back, bum knees, a dodgey ticker, weak bladder, acne, a susceptibility to syphilis and male-pattern baldness?”  The first answer is simple.  There just is.  Don’t think about it.  The second might be a little hard for you to follow, but try to keep up.

  The reason you, specifically and generally, are a fucking mess is as follows:  My original design was perfect, (and not, as I’ve pointed out, an unfortunate lab accident).  But then the first woman sinned… which I totally knew was going to happen.  It was not in any way a surprise, (and not just because this is a woman We’re talking about here), which I did not have to suss out by spotting the apple core at Eve’s feet.  Because, as I may have mentioned; omniscience.  Anyway, sin was not part of the original blueprints, though, as I say, I absolutely knew it was going to happen.  So I was so angry about this sin I unequivocally knew about beforehand and I, naturally, introduced a number of purposeful flaws in order to remind all humans past and present how much this particular part of My ineffable plan pissed Me off.  In fact, this thing I knew about beforehand, inserted into My Big Plan and completely expected pissed Me off so much that I put retroactive design flaws into every single living thing, whether they had anything to do with the fruit fiasco or not.

  There.  I’m glad you and I could have this frank and open discussion.  If any of you have any further doubts or questions, please feel free to reference this final comment.

  Don’t you worry your tithing little heads about it.

Wish You Were Here,


Dear Physicists…

In Some Secret Laboratory Somewhere

Dear Weekend Supervillians,

  I heard, recently, about how you’re trying to play down the incontrovertible proof that I made the universe from scratch 6,000 years ago.  You’ve been trying to hide the fact that atomic decay rates are seasonal by stashing the story with that crazy, left-wing “news” agency, NBC.  Well, it’s not going to work.

  I admit, I almost didn’t notice until I went bowling with My old school chums, Geb & Nut.  We played ten frames and They both beat Me, but I noticed that some of Their pins were falling when they shouldn’t.  Now, it’s an unspoken rule that We never use Our omnipotence when We bowl, so I was ready to call shenanigans when I noticed that the pins all had strings attached to them.  On further investigation, I realized that it must be you, physicists, who were messing with My game.  You’ve been fucking with Me ever since that whole “the Earth is round” bullshit you started spreading about 20 years before I created the universe.

  This time, I’m going to nip it in the bud.  I’m telling you right now that the .001% yearly difference, or whatever this seasonal decay rate thing shows, proves once and for all that I am the one and only Gawd*, who created everything** and science, reason and all their pals can suck My big, fat nob.  So quit messing with My game and I won’t be forced to turn you into pillars of salt.

Wish You Were Here,


*  All other deities excluded.

** Give or take.

Dear Science Thumpers…

Where You’re Not Wanted

Dear Annoying Atheist Proselytizers,

  I was visiting one of My top-tier tithers this weekend at his little 40-room bungalow and as we sat on the front porch Saturday morning, smoking a couple of nice Cohibas, what I can only assume were a couple of science nuts tried to get in the front gate to tell us “the good news”.  They were at the end of a 1/4 mile driveway, so I didn’t see them too well, but they were holding a book and shouting about this “good news” of theirs.  Presumably, it was that Darwin book and the good news was some drivel about genetics or some such.  It nearly ruined My morning; until the butler released the dogs.

  When will you atheists stop annoying people with information that they don’t want?  Look, I know you’re My New Chosen People and all, but that doesn’t give you any special prerogatives.  Just ask My old Chosen People, the Jews.  Sometimes I can’t wait for the atheist ghettos to open up.  Why can’t you be more like My brand loyalists?  You never see them out ruining My saturday morning.  I’ll bet they were all at home doing… well, whatever it is they do.  Preparing the Sunday morning tithe or boning up on My rules.  I can tell you where they weren’t.  They weren’t at the end of a certain driveway, embarrassing Me in front of one of My biggest donaters.

  You know, I’m as big a fan of science as the next deity.  Science is directly or indirectly responsible for some of My favorite things.  First class cabins in airplanes.  Solid gold toilets.  Electronic funds transfers.  Hell, I’m even pretty sure that science had something to do with limousines.  Just, why do you have to shove it in everyone’s faces?  I mean, really, you’re just making yourselves look ridiculous and you’re not making any friends.

  So here’s a little advice from your favorite deity.  If you really want to get your message across, just shut up and do whatever you can to make Me and My brand loyalists comfortable.  There.  Now I guess you can see where Solomon got his wisdom, eh?

Wish You Were Here,


Dear Scientists and Muslims…

In Your Secret Underground Lairs

Dear Nerds and Rugbutters,

  I’ll bet you never thought you’d get a joint postcard, did you?  I mean, you’re not exactly peanut butter and chocolate, are you?  In this instance, though, you do have something in common.  You’re both getting dangerously close to a smiting by meddling in things which are not your concern.

  First and foremost; scientists.  You will be the death of Me yet, (Oh, I crack Me up!)  But seriously, you have been naughty, naughty.  When I closed down the Garden of Eden Amusement Park™ I did so for a good reason and for good.  But just because it’s abandoned doesn’t mean you can trespass.  And syrup-chugger scientists don’t get a pass just because it happens to be in Canada.  I know you’re all socialized up there, but private property is still private property.  No one can say that I’m not a compassionate deity, but how could I look My old school chum, Invisible Hand of Capitalism, in the [invisible] eye if I let you use something I own, even if I’m not using it anymore?  As I’m sure you’ll agree, the very thought is sickening.

   So here is what I propose.  I’ll let you take isotope samples and what-have-you from the oldest place on Earth and I’ll charge a special scientist rate.  I believe surgeons fall under the heading of “scientists”, right?  At least, that’s what Asclepius told Me once, and if you can’t trust your doctor, who can you trust?  So I’ll charge you at the same rate He charges Me when I get a dose of “Cupid’s Itch”; $500 per hour.  Just think of yourselves as My little social disease bank from now on.

  Right.  That’s you taken care of.  Now for the Muslims.

  The reason I’m using the same postcard for you and for the scientists is that I’m hoping, even though you’re somebody else’s, (Hack!  Hack!), brand-loyalists, that maybe some of the scientific method will rub off on you.  Not too much, of course.  Me knows, I’m not exactly an advocate of science, except where it intersects with first-class travel and accommodation.  However, you’re really making asses of yourselves.  Normally, I’d just drop Allah, (hack thief of My intellectual property that He is), an elegantly hand-written letter simply saying “Ha Ha!!!”  Unfortunately, you’ve kind of jumped the shark this time and it begins to put all deities in a bad light.  As I am a subset of “all deities”, (there’s a little science talk for you), I’m taking this unprecedented step to rectify the situation.

  I don’t, usually, have a problem with tacky crap.  An extra big “Big Ben” in a gravitational dead zone, in “perfect alignment with magnetic north”, where you can get “charged with energy” is alright.  A little wooey, but alright.  On the other hand… two million LED lights?  Really Muslims?  Now I’m just starting to think that you’re compensating for something.

  So do us all a favor and scrap that thing.  If not, at the very least be sure to keep insisting that Allah, (Hack!), is the One True Gawd.

Wish You Were Here,


Dear Humanity…

On My Earth that I made for Me!!1!

All you humans who treat Me with no consideration,

  Keep reading this postcard and don’t you dare throw it away!  If you don’t read this I will come down there and tsunami your asses!  I have plenty of energy to do it, even if I am on vacation, so just listen to Me!  Listen to what you do to Me!  You make My life so fucking difficult!  Why can’t you be a people who fucking support me instead of fucking sucking Me dry?!  Has any supernatural relationship ever worked with you?!  NO!  It’s no wonder all the other deities have quit!  I’m the only one who loves you!  Just think of all I’ve done for you!!1  Who let you discover fire and caves after you got yourself kicked out of Eden?!  Who saved Noah and his immediate family from that flood?!  Who tortured and killed His own son so some of you wouldn’t burn in Hell?!  Me, that’s who!  But you rejected Me!  You will never be happy!  Fuck you!  And if you don’t like My fucking language, you can fuck off!!1!

  Don’t you dare crumple this card up and throw it away!!!  I can tell you’re thinking about it!!1  You should be on your knees begging Me to forgive you and giving Me money ’cause I deserve it1111!!  But everything you do insults Me!  You insult Me, you insult My friends and you’re always fucking flirting with science!!  If you get raped by a pack of scientists it will be your fault!!1!

  I am sick of your bullshit!!!  You can stay on the earth, but it’s not yours!!  I’m not giving it to you!!!

Wish You Were Here,


P.S. – Whichever one of you is in charge of reservations at the Hotel Le St-James, I’ll be arriving Saturday night.  This time, please don’t put chocolates on the pillows in the Royal Suite.  I woke up with it in My beard last time.

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,