pissed

Don't look, Ethel!!

FINALLY, I did something right. That Me-damned Ray Stevens has been a thorn in My side ever since that asinine song "The Streak." You think it's a good thing to encourage the average American to drop trou' and run around the general public? It's disgusting, is what it is. It's bad enough that I have to see them while they shower. And that "Mississippi Squirrel Revival" monstrosity was the final straw. The only things with a hunger for small nuts in a church should be the priests and the choir directors, like it has always been. Ray Stevens, enjoy your time in Hell.

I'm sure you are all as happy as I am about this, so allow Me to say in advance, You're Welcome!!

I (finally) got the right one bayehhbayyyy!!!!
pissed

(no subject)

Sometime I'll have to tell you guys about My other male offspring, Thog, Who I sent to earth to save the Neanderthals. The funny thing about the Neaners was their extremely low threshold of amazement. The only miracles that Thog really had to perform were walking near water and raising some old guy from a dead sleep.

**sigh**

I miss those guys. It's a shame how they slowly died out after realizing how completely unattractive they were.
pissed

(no subject)

I've been thinking again. They say that God is love... and that love is a many splintered thing. I therefore think that it's safe to say that I'm a many splintered thing. However, I have no idea what that means.

Using similar logic, I am also like a rock. But I ain't easy.

(And, apparently, I stink.)
pissed

(no subject)

Earlier today, Jesus started yelling, "Dad! Dad! Where are You?"

I answered, of course, like I always do, with a hearty "I'm on the throne." (That's actually the longest running joke in all Creation, unless you count Ted Kennedy's gag about being concerned for the common man.)

So He wandered over to Me, and We began to talk.

"What's on Your mind, Kid?"

"Dad, You know how Harry Connick Sr. is always trying to capitalize off the success of Harry Connick Jr.?"

"Yes, of course I do," I answered.

"Well there's another guy doing the exact same thing."

"Someone else is trying to capitalize off the success of Harry Connick Jr.?" I said, teasingly.

"No, no, I mean there's another old man using his son's success for his own profit.'

"George Clooney's dad?"

"No," Jesus answered.

"McCauley Culkin's dad?"

"No," he repeated.

"Scrooge McDuck?"

"NO."

"Milk and cookies?"

"NO! What does that even mean?!? Would you stop it?" Jesus was getting exasperated.

"I was only offering you a snack, Boy."

"Oh, sorry, Dad. No thanks, I'm on Atkins."

"I thought you were doing Pontius Pilates every morning," I cracked.

Jesus, of course, simply glared at me. He hates that joke.

After a long moment, He began again, "Okay. You know how I'm a huge Wallflowers fan?"

I had a really bad feeling about where this conversation was going. A bad feeling. Worse than the one I had while I had tentatively decided to give men a nice full set of breasts too.

"Go on," I managed to croak.

"Well get this. Jakob Dylan's father, who is almost as old as You, has started some sort of cover band and is touring the country."

Jesus, misunderstanding the shocked look on My face, continued, "I know! It's pathetic, isn't it?"

"Cover band?" was all I could manage.

"Yeah, I heard the commercial! Imagine an old homeless man singing Hendrix and Gun's 'n Roses songs, only with a pissed-off cat living in his sinuses or something!"

"Unbelievable," I said to Myself, with a sigh.

"I know, Dad, I know. I'm glad We are in agreement on this. You are the coolest. And Dad? One more thing?"

"What's that, Junior."

"You wouldn't ever try to capitalize on My success, would You?"

All I could do was answer, "No, Son, I would never do that." If I had followed My real inclination, April 3 would henceforth be celebrated as Spankmas, and I honestly don't think the Baptists could handle it.

**sigh**

I've simply got to have a long talk with that Boy someday.
pissed

(no subject)

Yes, Margaret, I'm here. Now quit pestering Me, or I'll unleash a monthly plague of cramps and water retention upon thee, and then I'll strike thee barren sometime between thine 40th and 50th year.
pissed

(no subject)

Long ago, men would have their naughty bits removed for purity, so they could better serve at My bidding. Later, children would also trade away their family jewels for the promise of lifelong service unto Me with the voice of angels. In turn, I looked after them with special attention.

It occurred to Me today that I'm the original Eunuchs Administrator.
pissed

(no subject)

My Boy came up to Me the other day and asked about the gays. “Is it true what they say about them?” He asked.

“Yes, I'm afraid it's true,” I answered truthfully, natch.

Jesus was obviously very distraught. “But why? Why? They don't deserve that! Nobody deserves that!”

“Son,” I explained, “there's such a thing as freewill, but along with that comes consequences for one's choices and actions. By definition, if that's what they choose, then they deserve what they get.”

Knowing My Boy like I do, I knew exactly what He was thinking. To Jesus, with His heart being the very essence of Compassion and Forgiveness, it seemed that even though this situation was admittedly fair and just, it was nevertheless terribly cruel and unfair at the same time.

“I know, Son... I know,” I whispered, trying to sooth the pain He felt. “It's a terrible thing, but listening to the music of Barbra Streisand is, plainly and simply, something they brought upon themselves.”

“But, but, but... they actually think they like it? How? Why?!?!!!!”

At this point, He lost all composure. Jesus wept.

It sometimes makes no sense that a loving God would let something this tragic happen, but He'll just have to trust Me on this.