HAIRSHIRT
Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery
|
HAIRSHIRT Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery |
|
Monday, October 24, 2005Straight from the Right Hand of God...Guest Blogger Jesus Christ
Hey gang. It's Christ again, back down to vent my spleen about a thing or two that's going on here on Earth. Now the last time I wrote something for Hairshirt, I got a bunch of people complaining that I was out of touch, that I sat in Heaven all the time, talking with the angels and so what right do I have criticizing people who live down here and blah blah blah.
You know what I've got to say to that? Kiss my holy ass. What, do you think we're retarded in heaven, that we can't hook up a simple fucking cable box? I watch The News Hour every goddamn night, I TiVo the Sunday morning talk shows on all three networks, plus I have a subscription to Guardian U.K., so I like to think I'm a fairly well-informed Messiah, thank you very much. And as far as not understanding what it's like to be an ordinary human, do I need to remind you that I popped out of a birth canal same as any of you? Yeah, I'm the Son of God, but I had a nagging mom like everybody else. I was just as confused when I started sprouting pubes as any other thirteen year old. So I think I have just as much right to vent as the next guy. Even more, considering that I'm the one who died for your fucking sins. I've just got to ask what on earth I ever did to deserve what's going on with me right now. See, I've had a lot of people write a whole lot about me over the years. Probably, I've been the subjects of more books than anybody else in the history of the planet (excluding the Kennedys). I've had brilliant treatises on the impact of my life on mankind, I've had nearly-illiterate tracts where I send people to eternal damnation because they played with themselves. None of it's ever really bothered me. Then I find out that fucking Anne Rice has decided she's going to spend the rest of her life writing nothing but first-person accounts of my life. What the fuck is up with that? Apparently, the Queen of the Damned Bad Writers had some health problems awhile back and, after renewing her involvement in with the Pope and his crew, decided that she needed to use her "talent" to serve Me. Yeah, this is what I need to really bring my message to the people: lurid, flowery prose. That'll work wonders. Thanks, Anne. I thought I had it bad with those jackasses behind the Left Behind series. Now this. Anne, do Me and humanity a favor and stick to those soft-core whack-off books you used to--you should pardon the expression--crank out. At least those had a practical purpose. A novel in which you "get inside" my seven year old mind, we do not need. And hey! While I'm at it, I 'd also like to flip a divine middle finger at all of these pinheads calling for prayer that the hurricanes wipe out abortion clinics. News flash, you mentally deficient douchebags: God doesn't control the weather. I think you're confusing Him with Storm from the X-Men. Next time you get this confused, just remember that the one who can summon the wind is the one played by Halle Berry. God not only doesn't have a giant joystick that aims tornadoes, He's also far too busy inventing delicious new forms of chocolate to give much thought to abortion. Surprise! All right, I've spent enough time on this. I'm going to go grab a beer with Ben Franklin. Knock off the stupidity, you goofy meatbags.
|
|
|||
| . | |||||
