Tag Archives: Miracles

Dear Chilean Miners…

Somewhere in Chili Con Carne or Sopapilla or Huevos Rancheros

Dear Third-World Collectors of My Metallic Vacation Fund,

  When your horrible ordeal began, I had no idea that this rescue craze would be so popular.  If I’d known, I would have sent more than a handful of brand-loyalists to take credit on My behalf.  Actually, I thought you guys were goners.  When Republican Jesus called to tell Me how very big the rescue ratings were, I thought; Okay, it’s popular, but is it popular like crack cocaine or like gay bashing?  Is it popular like incessantly running your tongue over a broken tooth or like bigotry?  Like a train wreck or like date rape?  Certainly those are popular things, but do they get the kind of press I want to be associated with?  I have enough trouble distancing Myself from Glenn Beck.  The last thing I need is headlines like “Gawd Snuffs 33 Miners“.

  That’s one of the main reasons I stay out of the rescue business.  They’re just potential PR disasters.  Also, I’m on vacation.  Besides, I can usually count on My brand-loyalists giving Me credit when the rescue comes off and keeping their traps shut when it doesn’t.  They’re always giving Me great, (unpaid), PR.  If you listen to the brand-loyalists, I’m like some kind of super hero who swoops in and saves the day at the last minute.  The best thing about it, (other than the fact that I don’t have to interrupt My vacation and come to the middle of nowhere to fix someone else’s problems), is that hardly anyone ever wonders, “Hey, if omniscient, omnipotent, omnibenevolent Gawd is rescuing miners and curing people’s cancer and finding their car keys; who’s causing all the problems in the first place?”  Of course, when some dickhole does ask uncomfortable questions, My, (again, unpaid), PR machine swings into gear and blames My professional scapegoat, Satan, or free will or something like that.  I can get the credit without doing anything, so why bother?

  So imagine My surprise when I found out I was trapped in that mine with you.  Like I say, I’m happy to take the credit for all the hard work the rescuers did, but unless that mine has room service, a spa and a top-notch concierge, I’m certain I wasn’t there.  In fact, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop telling people that.  What self-respecting deity would be caught dead down a dark, dangerous, boring hole in the ground?  Maybe Vulcan, but not This Guy.

  Anyway, glad you fellas made it out alright, thanks for the shout out and don’t forget to put a little something extra in the collection plate this week and a big something extra once your book deal comes through.

Wish You Were Here,



Dear Inquisition…


Vatican Hill, 3rd Dungeon on the Left

Dear Prefect Cardinal Willie,

  I got Ratzi’s family newsletter he sends out every year on My boys’ birthday.  I was glad to hear everyone seems to be doing fine there.  That there was enough turkey & dressing to go around; that the kids are alright and that Arturo’s rash is clearing up.

  The reason I’m writing, though, is to thank you, personally, for helping to keep My family’s dirty laundry from being aired.  I know that My ex-wife has been making a public spectacle of Herself, (Like always – women, eh?), and you’ve been trying to keep the lid on.  I know Ratzi ordered you to do it, but I also know who’s really in charge over there.  ‘Nuff said.

  I was going to give you a few helpful pointers on suppressing the eyewitnesses and such, but then I realized that would be like teaching My Gramma to suck eggs… if I had a Gramma.  There’s pretty much nothing you don’t know about suppression.  Hell, Spain’s just now getting back on their feet.

  I would suggest, though, a little maskarovka.  Word of My ex-wife’s exploits is liable to get out at some point.  I mean, even you can’t be everywhere.  Eventually, Mary is going to schtupp some bellboy in the lobby of a five-star hotel and someone will blab.  You don’t want that.  More importantly, I don’t want that.  I’ve got a reputation to uphold.

  So here’s My suggestion.  First of all, the ridiculous idea that anyone who was ever married to Me, (and, to be honest, anyone with a sex drive like Mary’s), could possibly be mistaken for a virgin might just play into our hands.  When you bring in the psychologists, theologians, priests and exorcists for damage control disingenuously suggest to the shell-shocked witnesses that it couldn’t possibly have been The Jesii’s mother they saw flashing that pre-school class or in that pile with two crack-whores, a pizza delivery guy, a registered quarter horse and a meter maid.  They must have been mistaken.  Perhaps it was some other virgin.  I’m sure you can find a patsy somewhere.

  Next, make it clear to them that the Vatican has a policy where these sightings are concerned.

…anyone who claims to have seen an apparition will only be believed as long as they remain silent and do not court publicity over their claims. If they refuse to obey, this will be taken as a sign that their claims are false.

  Then maybe give them a glimpse of the old Tongue Tearer™.  As I recall, that usually leads to a quickly shut mouth.  I imagine you’ll be glad to take some of the old toys out of mothballs.  It must have been pretty difficult for you to sit back and watch President Cheney and his minions stumbling around like a bunch of amateurs the last few years.  Now you can get your hand back in.  Not before time, too, eh?  If you don’t use it, you lose it, I always say.  That’s why I try to smite a few people a month, just so I don’t get rusty.

  Oh, and one last bit of advice.  If you or any of your people stumble across My ex while you’re out doing your duty, don’t approach Her!  I can’t stress that enough.  I know what suckers you priests are for “virgins”, but Mary will chew you up and spit you out.  Take My word for that.  However, if you’re within yelling distance, tell her the check is in the mail.

Wish You Were Here,