Act of contortion

Awww, man...

You guys. You have NO idea how crazy it's been up in this beeyotch.

Seriously.

I know it's been a while, My children, but it's been freaking weird. I'm not kidding.

If I was kidding, you'd know it. I'd all be, like, "Hi! I'm God! Kill your kid!"

And you'd be all like, "Uhhhhh...I don't really want to, Yo."

And then I'd go, "Uhhhhh...you have no choice. I'm God. Now get with the babycide, sucka!"

And then you'd go to an altar and put your baby all up ons and just before you shiv little Isaac (or Ishmael...if you like to blow yourself up in My name), I'd be all like, "PSYCHE! Awwww, SNAP! You just got PUNK'd, son! Awwwww yeeeeeah! You were all gonna kill your baby boy, cuz! Waitaminute...waitaminute! Where's Ashton? I need him to get a shot of the look on your face. SNAP!"

Yeah. I'm not kidding, y'all. These last few months were WACK!

I got arrested.

Now before you all start in with the, "WOOOOO! God got arrested! The infallible got fingered by the po-pos, which means we can go out and do all sorts of breaking of the only three of the Ten Commandments that actually inform our legal system," I warn you, I will totally shove nine-kinds of perdition up your tiny hineys if you take this story as a cue to start sodomizing or gamorating all over the place.

And trust Me: After spending three months in county lock-up in the Southern US, I have witnessed some really creative ways of shoving perdition up tiny hineys.

Fo shizzle.

No. Me getting arrested was all part of My divine, finely tuned and intelligent design. If you haven't noticed yet, I work in mysterious ways. One way in which I've chosen to work mysteriously is by really trying to understand the sinner's heart. What better place and time to do that than in prison during My vacation, right?

Pretty mysterious, no? All part of the plan.

Another part of the plan is to allow babies to be born with cancer and not healing amputees. But I'll explain all that another time...if I freaking feel like it!

I won't get into the details of My sojourn in the slammer or how I got there. What I will do, however, is pass on the ineffable wisdom I gained during My time in the big house (although, My Big House is a whole lot bigger; it's called HELL, and instead of cable you get LAKE OF FIRE). I need to warn you that this is all pretty rough. I haven't run it by My editors or anything. But, if it plays, I'm thinking of adding amendments to the Ten Commandments to cover these simple truths I've unearthed in these past few months. Who knows (except Me)? Maybe these'll show up in the New Testament 2.0 (still working on that title).

Ten Commandments from the Book of Incarceration

1) Thou shouldst know, if thou gets pulleth'd o'er whilst speeding in a rented Enzo with a hooker and a key of blow, if thine hooker is a narc...and a dude.

2) Thou shalt never rent a Ferrari with optional GPS.

3) Thou hast the right to remain silent. Anything thou sayest can and will be used against thee in a court of law. Thou shalt not take that to mean that thou canst wordlessly throw thine own feces in the face of thine arresting officer and not expect that feces to be admitted as evidence.

4) Thou shalt always carry wet-naps. Just a good rule of thumb.

5) When faced with thine accuser, thou shalt not claim to be the Judge of Judges before thou tosseth more feces, especially when without wet-nap.

6) Speedy trials are for suckers. Thou shalt allow time to let thine swerve to wear off.

7) When sentenced to gen-pop, thou shalt not remind thine fellow incarcerated that, as the Judge of Judges, thou art the ultimate reason they are there.

8) Thou shalt just relax. Fighting only makes it hurt more.

9) Thou shalt befriend the individual with the scariest neck tattoos.

10) Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's ass.

There you have it. What I learned (but really already knew because, hey...I'm God) over these last few months. I'm back now. Hopefully I can keep up with this whole blog thing for the duration of My vacation. Who knows though (other than Me)? I have another mysterious plan to get abducted by Somali pirates, so I may disappear again in the near future.

I have a burning interest in pirates now.

Life up your hearts.

God Almighty

Post - I just want to give a shout out to all My dawgs in C Bloc: Skeet-G, Lay-low, D.Z.N., Bruce, Jerzey Juice and to My homey Lucian. I'm droppin' some 40 on the curb for you.

PEACE!

Payback's a Blech!(OW)

uuuuuuuuggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh...

Today...totally hungover.

The clicks of my keyboard sound like cacophonous promises of deliverance and death that are never fulfilled. I know now how cancer patients feel...or Viet Nam vets. The gay ones, at least. I just want to end it all, but I'm bound inexplicably, perhaps by honor or pride or some fleeting hope, to fight it. Perhaps I should just let go. Let it all happen. Perhaps I should...

...OH! Oh God! I feel like I'm gonna boot.

No, God. Chew it back. Breathe. Fists with Your toes.

Water. I need...water. One sec.

I'm back. See? It only took one sec! (OW...Even typing exclamation points hurts. No more exclamation points for the rest of the day, you hear? If you type one...LAKE OF FIRE! [OW])

I'm God, dammit! (OW)

Ugh...I never should have had those last Hornitos Torpedoes. Just...that's when it all fell apart. That's when it all went fuzzy.

And why does my butt hurt?

You know? I'd like to take a moment and talk about Satan.

As you should already know, Satan really tried to pull one over on your ol' pal, God. That...I just...I...lots of umbrage right there. You know? LOTS of umbrage! (OW)

I'd be remiss if I were to just let him punk me like that, right? I'd lose my street cred(insert exclamation point). So you're about to witness, right now, the opening salvo of my viscous counterattack on the Little Horn, Lucifer B. Satan.

Wait...did I just say my counterattack was gonna be viscous? Heh. I totally meant vicious. Errrr...I think I'm still a little drunk. No matter. It wasn't a mistake. It was an intelligent design, albeit a subconscious one. I've planned to hit Lucy viscously anyway. One arm of my strategy is to wait until he utters the words, "I don't know", at which point I'll drop a bucket of green slime on him.

Ha HAAA(exclamation pointage). God rule-

Oh crap...here we go again. (Chewitbackchewitbackchewitback)

All better. I really gotta be careful about that, though. You know what happened the last time I vomited?

Yeah. Chernobyl.

So...yeah. Satan. Boy, have I got stories. Heh. Have I ever. And I'm going to tell you them one at a time. That's gonna be My payback to him for trying to punk me like that. I just want you to know that these stories should in NO WAY alter your fears of the LAKE O FFIRE-rrp. One sec.

K. I think it's passed for good now. Ugh...I should have ordered my eggs over-hard this morning.

Just...just listen up. But keep the fear. That's all I'm saying. Right?

And here we go.

Do you have any idea what Satan's full name is? I've told you that it's Lucifer B. Satan, right? I know that. I'm God, dammit. I know all. But do you know what the "B" stands for?

Now I'm pretty sure that you're sitting there thinking, "Well...yeah, God. The 'B' stands for 'Beelzebub'. Easy Jeezy Creezy."

WRONG(exclamation pointalation) It's not Beelzebub. Beelzebub is a linguistic mutation (not that I believe in mutations...that's Evolutionist speak right there) of "Baal Zebub", who is considered a pagan god, also known as "the lord of the flies" or "the lord of feces".

While all very fitting, it's still not true. You see, that pagan god Baal Zebub never actually existed. Not that you need to hear it but NO other god ever existed. I am the one true God. There are no other gods before Me. And, depending on your belief system, Jesus is (not) My Son and/or Mohammad is My prophet.

That clear? Good. Nuff said on that.

Y'all made up Baal Zebub. Well...maybe not you in particular. Humans did, though. And even that was a bit of a fallacy.

You stupid humans and your made up gods. When are you going to learn?

See..."Baal Zebub" is yet another linguistic mutation. It all derived from what I said to Lucifer when he first challenged me for power over Heaven. He all sauntered up to Me and laid down his terms, as if he didn't have a care in the pantheon. I heard him out, as I am a just and merciful Lord. I let him speak his piece, which took ages by the way, and never interrupted him, as I am a just and merciful Lord. I even thought about his proposal. Why?

Yeah...because I'm a just a merciful Lord.

I then looked at him, shook My head and said, "Sheeeeeeeeeit. You're ballsy, bub," before pressing the button under my desk that activates the trap door he just happened to be standing on the entire time, thus damning him to Perdition, where he resides to this day.

From that day forward my Angels told that story around the water cooler. Well, you know how stories get out of hand when you just let them go. After a couple of millennia, the story "mutated" (once again, I don't like that evolutionist term...but I think it works best in this milieu) into Me saying, "Oh(exclamation pointalism) Thou art Beelzebub(exclamation point-of-view) Thou keeper of flies and feces and filth(exclamation Pointer Sisters) Get thee hence from My sight. Unto the bowels of Perdition I damn thee. Thee and thine shalt ne'er gaze 'pon Mine countenance again."

Yeah...horse patootie. I never said that.

Anyway...somehow that story got down to you guys and you ran with it. I tried to stem it but, after a while, the nick name grew on Me. "Beelzebub". It had a ring to it. So I let it stick.

No. His middle name is not Beelzebub. It's Bernard.

HA! (OW) Can you imagine? Bernard! (OW)

How much did he get his ass kicked on the playground in Catholic school? No wonder he was so pissed at me! (OW)

Bernard.

What a fag.

God hates fags.

So there you are, Lucifer Bernard Satan. My opening volley against you and yours. Bring whatever pain you can, cuz I got a million stories about you, and that one was pretty much the tamest.

I hope you're getting your ass kicked in Hell right now.

Oh, God...I gotta lay down. I'm starting to get the spins.

Ooooooh. OOOOOOOOHhhhh, GOD! (OW)

This doesn't look pretty.

Lift up you87 rvbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

F = GMm/R² = ROFLMAO!!!!1!11

HOOOOOO Doggie!

What a nutty weekend I had. Wow! I never thought I'd say this, but T.G.I.M.! Thank God it's Monday!

Or Thank God I'm Me! But I always say that one...heh heh.

Hey all. Lordy! I sure am glad to be done with that Sabbath. Let Me start off by, well...not apologizing per se. I don't apologize. I need no forgiveness. I'm God. I'm the almighty forgiver...or the eternally wrathful judge, depending on whether or not you have complete, undying and blind faith in Me and My works and/or fear the LAKE OF FIRE. At any rate, I want you to know that I realize I came off a little testy in My last couple of posts. I can get like that when I'm totally stressed out and have little-or-no recourse of alleviating the tension. Usually My squeeze ball does wonders, but not this time. I was in some dire straights.

What's My squeeze ball, you ask? Well you'll just have to wait for that one after I'm done not apologizing for being Mr. Noah Snark last week.

So, yeah...I figured out the problem. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you should stop right here and read this....and then this. Consider it required reading, just like The Bible. In faith, depending on how well this blog goes, I'm entertaining the notion of publishing these musings. Don't worry. I'm not gonna make it The New Testament 2.0 or anything cheesy like that (although that's not a bad title). I'd make it more of a companion piece to The Bible. kinda the way The Silmarillion was a companion piece to Tolkien's oeuvre. But much more accessible. Because, really...have you ever tried to wade through The Silmarillion? I mean...damn.

Not really damn, though. I really should be more careful with flinging that term around, huh?

Damn, I'm all over the place today! it's like I got ADD or something.

Any(Iam)who(am)...back on track. So last week I had a problem with Steve and his CSRs being overwhelmed by your prayers even though I intelligent designed a flawless filtering process to ensure that all your prayers were addressed to the proper channels, thus allowing Me to just relax on My damn vacation and enjoy the splendors of this finely tuned and irreducibly complex creation without being bothered by the minutiae of your eternally myriad and often trifling requests for guidance, boons and deliverance.

GASP! That was a mouthful. Even for Me.

Well, My filtering system was not as flawless as I thought it was. There was one unforeseen faithor (albeit understandably unforeseen as, in the 6,500+ years [give or take] that this creation has been in motion, this faithor was never possible, let alone probable). And I bet you can guess what that faithor was.

Go on! Give it a guess. I have faith that you know it. I have so much faith, in faith, that I'll give you three guessessessezzzz (heh...get the Tolkien reference? Yeah! God reads!) and if you don't get it...LAKE OF FIRE!

Nah...I'm just funnin'. I'll tell you.

It was Lucifer B. Satan himself.

Of COURSE!!! Lucy B. pulled a stunt that has been heretofore unprecedented; unthinkable even (and, rather brilliant, I must admit). And it was this that totally harshed My mellow. It was then, when I was at My lowest, when I was just about to whip it out and start peeing on everything again (for 80 days and 80 nights this time) when I had a divine inspiration. I asked Steve to take a sample cross-section of the prayers, about a million, and run a quick traceroute on their source. 98.2% of them were coming from the same point of presence. I then knew what was up.

As you may already know, Hell is (aside from somewhere you go to eternally get your soul slowly flayed by the flaming maws of Seventh-Circle sear maggots) the absence of God. As such, Satan has been vigilant about keeping any of his subjects, including himself, from any whiff, any notion, any hope of Me. Prayer, of course, was right the frick out.

See...remember how I told you that I intelligent designed My prayer filter to pass through legitimate prayers for guidance, boons and deliverance from evil originating from the truly penitent and/or sincere? Well, when Lucy B. caught word that I was going on vacation, he did something utterly vile: he finally allowed everyone in Hell to pray.

What a dick.

Being as that those in Hell are now, after they've been damned (too little, too late, bitches!), completely faithful to Me and penitent of their mortal sins, their prayers were forwarded directly to Steve and His CSRs. The effect was nigh on catastrophic. Lucifer B. damn-near shut down Heaven. In short, Satan almost brought Us down, at least My vacation, with the greatest denial-of-service attack in the history of My 6,500+-year-old (give or take) creation.

Seriously...what a dick!

Whatever. We handled it once we knew the point of fault. One quick tweak to the filter rules and everything was back to normal. I could relax again. Steve could stop flagellating Himself for failing Me. Life...was...beautiful.

Except for those assholes down in Hell who were praying to Me. They got this auto-response:

************************************

Dear penitent one,

This is an auto-response to inform you that I have received your prayer. I thank you for your faith. Your prayers are God's food. I would respond to you personally, however I am currently on vacation in Sarasota, basking in the temperate sunshine and enjoying My intelligent designs of coconut rum, silicone implants and thong bikinis.

How are things in Hell?

I regret to inform you that your request(s) for guidance, boons and/or deliverance from evil has/have been denied. Neither I nor My host of Seraphim and/or Cherubim see fit to grant holy favors to anyone as vile and iniquitous as you. You must be high, or at least mildly retarded, to think I or any deserving of My Love would grant such a request. I'm not exactly sure what happens down there in Hell, but I hope they heap it seven times 700 (the product of which I'm not entirely sure, as I'm not that great at math...but I'm pretty sure it's one of the largest numbers imaginable) on you just for trying to pull a fast one on Us up here in paradise, where everything is fluffy clouds and puppy noses.

I will give you this word of advise, however: when you scream in agony as Pit Imps of the Deep, who have ice picks for penises, are raping your extremities by gouging their members underneath your toe and finger nails before they ejaculate into the bloodied tips of your phalanges some hellish tincture of lemon juice and sodium, don't cry. It makes you look like a little girl.

Give My Love to Satan. And by "Love" I mean "punch him in the junk".

Lift up your heart...but not really.

God Almighty

************************************

There! Problem solved.

So that's why I was so pissy last week. That's why I couldn't relax. That's why My beloved squeeze ball didn't work.

And I know you've been waiting patiently to know what My squeeze ball is. I once wrote in My best-seller The Bible (pick it up on Amazon for only $4.95!!! Or from a hotel room for FREE!!!), "Ask and you shall receive." Well here it is.

It's Earth, My children! Earth is my squeeze ball.

After all, what do you think causes gravity?!?

Lift up your hearts...really.

God Almighty

Heaven is the Head... (Chapter II)

(If you haven't read it yet, please read Chapter I of this rant)

Peace be with you.

Seriously! Peace be with you.

I've been accused of being something of a micro manager and control freak in the past. And, while this used to be true, I think I've made significant strides in letting the little things go over the past, oh...4,324 years, give or take. Sure, there have been fits and starts since The Flood wherein I've been more hands-on than I'd like to be but, for the most part, I've been pretty laissez-faire about dealing with the minutiae of this creation. What I intelligently designed is a finely tuned machine that is irreducibly complex. So it should pretty much run on its own with very little divine intervention from Me, right?

NO, I say to thee! It wasn't intelligently designed to function in the absence of Me. Without My, albeit periodic, divine intervention and your undying faith in My works and/or fear of the LAKE OF FIRE this creation will deteriorate into chaos, immorality and golden statues.

Trust Me. I've seen it happen. I then peed on it for 40 days and 40 nights. You don't want that! It's...not...PRETTY!

But really...that's all it needs. Faith and/or fear. That's why I wrote the Holy Scripture. I wrote it so you would have a corporeal guide and I can step back and marvel at everything I've intelligently designed in peace without having to come running every time someone stubs their toe and screams, "God DAMMIT!"

Little known faith: That's why I wrote the Second (or Third, depending on your...whatever...I can hardly keep track) Commandment. See...every time you call on Me, I gotta be there. I hafta. So when you stub your toe and damn it in My name, I'm there instantly ready to damn your toe to eternal hellfire because you were stupid enough to pop it on the leg of your coffee table.

Now...I'm a busy Guy. Sometimes you people have a tendency to call on Me when you do something as stupid as stub your toe. I'm too busy for that ass-holery. Yeah...I said ass. I can curse. You can't. I'm God. You're My intelligent design. Start speaking like you're intelligent and STOP USING MY NAME IN VAIN!!!

And stop coveting your neighbor's ass!

You really have no idea just how difficult My job is. You think you might but, honestly, your four-dimensional minds have no capacity for conceiving, let alone understanding, eternity. That's why I intelligently designed for you faith. You don't need to think or conceive. You can just let Me do all the thinking and conceiving for you. Isn't that beautiful? Isn't that perfect?

And yet, every now and then, I'm forced to drop everything I'm doing and march down to your puny level just because you need a little something more than just faith. And, in faith, I'm kinda getting sick of it.

Yeah...look. I'm tired. I'm kinda venting, I know. It's just that I'm supposed to be on My vacation and I...I need you to understand that everything there is, everything you desire, is right there in the Bible (or the Qur'an, if you're one of those types...or the Torah if you want the CliffsNotes). I'm not kidding! I wrote those books for a reason! Are you, like, illiterate or something? It's all...right...there.

So why in God's name are you pestering Me so diligently, on My vacation I might add, with all these severe and honest requests for deliverance from evil? I swear (not just the ass swearing...but honest-to-goodness swearing) I haven't had this many prayers since ass-clown died for your sins!

And I set up a freaking FILTER!

Look...here it is: I don't want to get all micro management on y'all, but I will if I have to. All I really want is to enjoy Myself down here in Sarasota. But if you really think it's all that bad...if you really think it sucks this much to be alive...I'll shake'n'bake this creation so quick, you won't even be able to finish the thought, "...and I helped- OH GOD! MY FACE! IT'S MELTING OFF!!! I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY THIS IS HAPPENING!!!! BUT IT IS!!! IT'S MEL-"

And then you'll be dead, in My realm, where I will judge you and cast you into an eternal LAKE OF FIRE because you broke the Second (or Third) Commandment just before you died.

Dumb ass!

Seriously, stop praying for now. As I've mentioned a couple of times before, your prayers are My food. But right now, "...My cup runneth over" with your tedious crap.

Lift up your hearts.

God Almighty.

Heaven is the Head... (Chapter I)

Dag, y'all! My Blackberry has been off the CHAIN lately.

I know, My children, that your prayers haven't been answered with the expedience that they normally are. There's been a bit of a backlog in My absence. They say, "delegate or die", which is exactly what I did. Delegate, that is...not die. I'm God. I can't die. I'm eternity. I'm also right behind you!

Ha! Made you look!

No, seriously...I am right behind you. I also think you should take that ridiculous thing out of your body. That's just...weird. And probably a sin. I'll check on that.

Anyway, while they say, "delegate or die", they also say, "if you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself." Before I left for My vacation I outsourced all prayers offered to Me to My capable assistant, Steve, and his eager team of angelic CSRs (Certified Seraphic Representatives). I did so as I was totally under the impression that They could handle it for several reasons.

First: I do not, nor have I ever (with few exceptions) answered the prayers offered up to saints or angels. Not My responsibility! While I've acted as consult on prayers offered to St. Francis, St. Peter, St. Michael, St. George, St. John's Wort and Santa Claus, et al, these are action items that rarely, if ever, cross My desk. No problems there.

By the way - I was joking about the St. John's Wort. Not Santa Claus, though. Santa Claus was a Turkish bishop. He is the patron saint of children, pawnbrokers and the falsely accused. St. John's Wort is an herb.

Second: I've created a rule for My inbox that forwards along any prayers offered to Me in Jesus' or Mohammed's name to them. While I am Cc'd on these, I always let those two Guys take care of these prayers, if They've got the stones or the motivation to do anything about them. Don't get Me started on Those Two Clowns. More on Them later, if I'm in the right mood.

Third: "Hail Marys" go to Mary. Always have. Always will.

Fourth: Requests of forgiveness through Acts of Contrition are IMMEDIATELY granted. Always have been. Always will be. This was one of My more-brilliant forms of delegation, if I do say so Myself.

Fifth: I've set up a filter that parses each prayer, looks for certain keywords, sources and intents and, if applicable, sends the prayer along to an appropriate auto-responder. This catches menial requests, such as "give me wealth and a 10-inch penis", as well as prayers from non-tithers, 11th-hour believers and homosexuals.

While each auto response is custom-tailored and intelligently designed for myriad prayers, the message is pretty universal. Eyes of needles and LAKE OF FIRE is a common theme throughout.

Finally: Steve has been My faithful assistant from the beginning. It's a little-known fact (not that you ever need something so base and evil as fact. In fact, so abhorrent is that word to My eye that it is from henceforth banned from My blog. Fact will from now on be replaced with the word faith) but Steve has been there with Me since just after the beginning. He's one of the first things I intelligently designed. As a matter of faith, I originally wrote Genesis 1:1 as, "In the beginning, God created the Heavens, the Earth and Steve," but, being the paragon of humility and meekness that He is (Steve will most definitely inherit the Earth), Steve chose to remain anonymous and be omitted from the Scripture.

God bless Steve.

Anyway, despite this careful preparation ere My departure, I must have been deceived somehow in the astronomical amount of prayers I field at any given time, because Steve and his CSRs have been unnaturally inundated with valid prayers offered directly to Me asking for truly pious and heartfelt guidance and boons. Steve and the CSRs just can't keep up!

What happened? Have things really fallen apart since I descended to Florida? I would think that Florida, if anything, would be a litmus or early-warning system for when the fit hits the shan, so to speak. Or do I really take on this many dire and mission-critical requests on a daily basis?

At any rate, I haven't been relaxing much lately as I've been taking the overflow prayers that Steve and His CSRs cannot answer. My vacation has been mired and may need to be cut short because of this.

I have no need to ask you of anything. I'm God. I simply intelligently design what I want. But I will command this: I know that your prayers are My food, but if you're thinking about praying tonight, do Me a favor? Just don't! I got enough on My plate. Just give Me a break. Maybe then I can salvage what's left of My vacation and perhaps restore Steve's sanity from the shambles you have all made it.

I have more to say on this, but I haven't the time. I gotta answer prayers on My God-damn vacation. Just know this: If I receive one "Now I lay me down to sleep" on My Blackberry tonight, consider it a cold, hard faith that your soul I will arrive to take.

And you won't even need to pray on it.

Lift up your hearts.

God Almighty

P.S. - The title of this blog entry is not a typo. I intelligently designed it that way. While the intent is "Heavy is the Head...", I thought that "Heaven is the Head" is much more witty.

Funny, yeah? I'm so glad that I intelligently designed comedy.

Hallelujah!

Bits and BOOMS

Aw, man. I was super hungry today.

And you know that if I say that I was super hungry, it’s gotta be a lot more hungry than any of you could possibly imagine. I’m God. I’m eternity. I’m everywhere. So, when this tummy gets to rumbling, the ramifications are indubitably palpable.

Southern California can attest to that. My tummy was in Los Angeles this morning when I suddenly got a hankerin’ for a burrito. Don’t ask Me what it was doing in SoCal while the rest of Me was 3,000 miles away in Sarasota (see my last entry for clarification). That’s one of the occupational hazards of being omnipresent. Bits of Me end up all over the place. It can be rather perilous, really. For instance, about 5,000 years ago My spleen fell to Earth. Woops! Good-bye dinosaurs. Fun while it lasted.

See what I mean? Precarious!

It also doesn’t help that the Holy Ghost is a bit of a trickster. He thinks it’s funny to hide things from time to time, without care of the consequences that can be reaped from his little jibes. For instance, the morning of the eighth day, after I rested, I woke up in a bathtub full of ice, a tube poking out My back and a note scrawled in sienna-mahogany lipstick on My chest, which read, “I’ve taken one of Your kidneys. Call 911 or you will die.”

I instantly knew it was the Holy Ghost because He’s an autumn and the only one in Heaven at the time who could pull off that shade of lipstick.

Well I did not call 911, I tell you what. I found that little shiite and I poured seven golden vials of My wrath all over His wispy butt (read: I peed on Him...a lot. A fitting punishment seeing as He took one of My God-damn kidneys) until He told Me where My kidney was. It ends up that He hid it amongst the fruit of the tree of knowledge.

Aw HELL no!

So there I was, all groggy cuz I had just woken up from a well-deserved nappy-nap (I had just finished intelligently designing everything, after all). And now I gotta root through the Tree of Knowledge looking for My freakin’ kidney?!? I mean, Jesus! Being God is kinda weird if you think about it.

Anyway, I wasn’t really feeling up to the task of looking for My kidney just then. It was first thing in the morning and I was hungry. I was more interested in intelligently designing Myself up a bowl of Wheaties. So I told Adam and Eve (stupid dummy faces) NOT to eat the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge. I mean, I wouldn’t want them to bite into what looks like a handful of juicy-awesomeness only to get all grossed out because it turned out to be holy viscera. That’s just rude. Could you imagine the damage that would be done to someone's psyche if they found out that they ate God?!? That could scar someone for life! Really mess some people up.

Well, I think you know the rest. They didn’t listen. They freaking did it anyway. And while they didn’t eat My kidney (thank God) I was still pretty pissed at them for disobeying a direct order. So I made them feel all self-conscious by telling them they looked funny naked.

Well, it didn’t end there. I found out that the Holy Spirit hid a lot of My stuff in the Garden of Eden, including My extremely extensive collection of...umm...erotic...literat...

Alright! It was porn! I’ll admit it! I had an extensive collection of porn! I’m not ashamed!

I was, however, ashamed at the time. Whatever! Anyway, I didn’t want Adam and Eve to find any of my other stuff, especially the porn, and I knew that if I told them not to go looking for it they’d do it anyway, so I kicked them out and told them to go learn farming.

All because of my freaking kidney.

So, yeah...being omnipresent isn’t necessarily a great thing. Sometimes it can have some severe repercussions. But, you know, someone’s gotta do it. May as well be Me. I am, after all, the best-equipped for the job.

Right now, however, I’m going to omnipresent Myself to a lawn chair on Venice Beach and intelligently design Myself up a mojito.

Heh...just kidding. I’ll make the Holy Spirit divinely inspire a waiter to bring Me one.

Heh...just kidding again. I’ll just order one.

See! It’s not just the Holy Spirit who’s got a sense of humor.

Lift up your hearts!

God Almighty

A Much Needed Vacation

Peace be with you.

Hey everybody! It's Me. Your Lord and creator, God. How are you?

Yeah...don't bother answering that. I already know.

Uugggghhhh! It feels soooooooooo good to get a break! You know what I mean? There's that really light sensation that you get all the way in the soles of your feet when you finally get the opportunity to put them up after toiling on them for SIXTY-FIVE HUNDRED YEARS (give or take). You know what I'm talking about, right?

Well, you probably don't. Just imagine what it feels like when you finally get a decent, well-deserved vacation and multiply it by, I don't know, a ba-thousand or something.

Or forty cubits.

Something like that. I was never really good at math. Whatever.

Anyhoo...I suppose I should let you know that I won't be all-that-omnipresent for the foreseeable future. I'm chillin' down here in Sarasota with all the other old Jews, giving myself a much needed vacation. While I'm taking time off from the rat race of being all infinite and almighty I thought I'd keep in touch with y'all vis-a-vis this whole blog phenomenon (which, by the way, I intelligently designed...you're welcome). So fear not (but DO continue to fear Me), all of the Abrahamaic religions that extol the awesome of Me will continue to run just as smoothly as they always have. It's just that your ol' Papa G needed to get his relax on. That's all.

I gotta wrap this up. I got a bachi ball game to pwnz in a few minutes. I just wanted to drop a quick line to command that you don't lose faith, continue to fear the LAKE OF FIRE and keep those prayers rolling in.

Your prayers are God's food.

Lift up your hearts,

God Almighty

P.S. - I almost forgot! Duh! While I'm on vacation you're gonna get my out-of-office notification the first time you pray to me. Don't be alarmed!!! It's just there to let you know that your prayers are being taken in the order that they're first received by the Seraphim I left in charge. You're in good hands. I have faith in that. And we all know...faith is all you need.

The following is my out-of-office message, just so you're prepared when you receive it.

************************************

[obj:OOOfice]

Dear [macro1:NameOfFaithful(first)],

Peace be with you.

I have received your prayer. Thank you for continuing to support your Lord and creator, Me: God Almighty! I love you, [macro1:NameOfFaithful(first)]. You are special and unique, and I will always remember your unquestioning faithfulness to [macro2:NameOfBeliefSystem].

[Go to 10]

10: If "Christian", go to 20.
15: If not "Christian", go to 30.
20: Echo: Bless you in Jesus' name.
25: Go to 75.
30: If "Muslim", go to 40.
35: If not "Muslim", go to 50.
40: Echo: Allahu ackbar!
45: Go to 75.
50: If "Jewish", go to 60.
55: If not "Jewish", go to 70.
60: Echo: You never call! You never write!
65: Go to 75.
70: If atheist, go to HELL AND BURN IN THE LAKE OF FIRE!
75: Proceed with [obj:OOOfice).

I am away on vacation. As your prayer is as unique and special as you are [macro1:NameOfFaithful(first)], I have left Heaven in the hands of my most capable assistant, Steve. He will get to your prayer at his most urgent convenience. In the mean time, I bless you and keep you. Lo, though you walk through the valley of the shadow of death, refrain from taking a look at your life and realizing that there's nothing left.

Lift up your heart,

God Almighty