When crapping your pants and prayer go together

While beseeching the Lord is not best done whilst
crapping one's pants, sometimes it can't be helped.

If lightning hits your plane (or car, or balls...) frantic prayers are understandable.  Even the ardent atheist switches teams for a minute or two in such circumstances.  Can you blame them?  It's hard to have the courage of your convictions if they're running down your leg at the time.  But that's not what this post is about.  It's about the other 99.9% non-life threatening appeals to heaven.  So-

Stop annoying HIM already!

“Rain falls on the just and unjust alike.”  True.  The flip side of that is that the sun shines on the just and unjust alike also.  Just because your plane landed safely after some turbulent weather doesn’t mean God was looking out for you.  Maybe that little girl with the runny nose three rows up is slated to be the grandmother of that dedicated intern a few decades from now who runs extra tests at the lab on her own time and ‘accidently’ discovers the gene that turns off cancer.  You can’t know any of that at the time, but your low intervention worthiness may become clearer the next day when you electrocute yourself trying to pry your toast out of the toaster with a metal butter knife.  For the third time.  (Then again it may never seem clear to you.)

The point is, don’t assume divine intervention for the ordinary ups and downs of everyday life.  Everybody has lost keys.  Everybody has found keys.  Even if you’re muttering “Please God, please” the entire time you’re looking and you finally find them it doesn’t make the eternal overlord of all creation your personal fucking key-finder.  If you left your keys in the side pocket of your ‘fat’ jeans after you waddled back from the all-you-can-eat buffet last night, and you finally think to check that pocket again and they’re still there, it’s not the hand of God.  It’s the dumb of man.  Those keys would have stayed there until you got around to checking that particular pocket no matter how long it took you. 

The common impulse is to thank Him, of course.  But don’t.  It would be bad enough if it were just you alternately whining and thanking all day long.  But there’s something like seven billion of us now.  And in the age of mandatory seat belt laws and ubiquitous warning labels the helpful and herd-thinning rule of survival of the smartest no longer applies.  The dumbest strata of the population now makes it well into breeding age, -the only area where they really ‘shine’.   Statistically it has to mean the ‘help me’ prayers and ‘thank yous’ for everyday bullshit have increased geometrically.  (That means more than just ‘metrically’, it means ‘a lot’ which is two words, if you didn’t already know)  If He really did hear all our prayers at one time the cacophony of drivel must have coalesced into an easily ignorable hum years ago.

You’re the reason He doesn’t pay attention to us anymore, even for important prayers like ‘please end the NFL lockout.’  Now we’re going to have a strike shortened season, if we get one at all.  No intervention there because He’s not listening anymore.  Thanks a lot, mumbles.

You’re so lucky I’m NOT god.  Bother ME for lost keys?  Not after I make them materialize in your rectum.  You'd buy a new car before you'd ask Me again!  Your incessant self important myopia would have driven Me to My smote cannon a long time ago.  And I’d be firing up that mo-fo all day long.  At you?  Depends.  Lost your keys lately?

As always, If I Were God appreciates comments, ad-clicks and sharing of His articles. 

He sees all; disappoint Him not.

So your Rapture was a load of Crapture

No need to despair, the world's gotta end sometime.  And since people started making Rapture predictions centuries ago every one of the hundreds of days picked turned out to be wrong, you should feel comfortable in making your own.  After all, you can't do any worse than all the biblical scholars, astrologists, numerologists, preachers, teachers and other creatures that have tried before you.

Luckily there's an endless array of natural phenomena available for creative interpretation.  You can then look at the numbers associated with these events to figure out an apocalypse day that works best for you.  And when, sorry -IF it doesn't work out there's always more out there and numbers to play with.  You can do it your whole life if you want -a very good use of your life by the way.  You should give it serious consideration.


Step right up, pick a number, any number...

Don't be intimidated.  It's actually quite easy and fun.  Here's one I worked out this morning: 

I had Taco Bell last night and it was so God-awful I understood it to be a sign that the end was near.  After 6 burritos, two gorditas, and one chalupa (6-2-1) it took only twenty (20) minutes before I had to run for the bathroom eleven (11) times.  Clearly this means the world will end 6/21/2011.  -So in another month. 
(I checked the numbers twice, so frankly there's no way I could be wrong.)  If you value your afterlife at all you'll heed this warning.  Now go prepare.

As always, If I Were God appreciates comments, ad-clicks and sharing of His articles. 

He sees all; disappoint Him not.

Free RAPTURE KITS -are YOU ready?

Apparently, gravity is the first thing that gets switched off.  Avoid wearing short skirts.

Are you prepared if it happens on Saturday?  More importantly, are you prepared if (when) it doesn’t?
Either way you’ve come to the right place.  (What kind of would-be god would I be if I couldn’t at least prepare you for this?  -Not a very good one!  But have no fear, I will NOT be the George Bush of deities, that’s for me-damn sure.  As I am my witness, I will have you prepared come what may, so help me Me.)

Take notes or print this page, for whether ye be believers or not, whether it happens or not, I’ve got you covered.  These are the things you’ll need in your kits and why.

IF it happens

Believer's kit
Tall saddle; for your high horse
Living will; since you won’t be dying, but you will be leaving, you can give it all away
Hand held personal recorder; to make “I told you so’s” for sorrowful sinners left behind
Fruit-proof Riot shield; for defense against those same jealous, angry and fruit-armed sinners
Airsickness patch; to guarantee an enjoyable ride heavenward
Designer sunglasses; it's going to be bright up there so you might as well look good
Autograph book; so all the saints, prophets and of course Jesus can sign it

Non-believer's kit
Tissues; for your weeping

Mouth guards; for your gnashing teeth              

Fruit & hooks; fruit to throw at the departing believers, hooks to pull their shields down first
Vitamin water; you’re going to be thirsty where you’re going
SPF 500; you’re going to get burned where you’re going
Assless chaps; so you can bend over and kiss it goodbye
Shotguns and machetes; for the zombies.  Did you not know about the zombies?  Oh man...
Heat-resistant K-Y; because if hell is anything like earthly prisons…

IF it doesn't

(and it won't)

Believer's kit
Tissues; for your weeping

Mouth guards; for your gnashing teeth              

Baskets; to gather all the fruit thrown at you earlier; you’re gonna be hungry
Map of local homeless shelters; you gave your house away when you were SO sure, 'member?
Pup tent; not every town has homeless shelters
Help wanted section of newspaper; you’re going to need a new job
Meat cleaver and butcher's knife; if you can't find a job you might have to eat that high horse

Non-Believer's kit
Loud home sound systems; to drown out the incessant weeping of wandering believers
Shotguns; to keep them from re-entering your new home (their old home)
Garage locks; to keep them from re-claiming your new car (their old car)
Blackout curtains; to make homeless hungry believers believe you’re not home
Liquor and hors d’oeuvres; for the party baby, for the party
New clothes and a hot car; like catholic school girls on spring break, those disappointed believer babes are going to need to break out and break out fast

Look people, their will be consequences and repercussions whether it does or does not happen.  But either way it always pays to be prepared.  Now stop thanking Me and go prep your kits.  You're very welcome.  Go!

As always, If I Were God appreciates comments, ad-clicks and sharing of His articles. 

He sees all; disappoint Him not.

Why God made sluts

SLUTS ARE GIFTS FROM HEAVEN

Even if you wanted to, you can't look
away.  Such is the power of sluts.

Thankfully, sluts have always been with us spreading their special kind of love (among other things) far and wide like sultry sexy saints.  As in all worthy volunteer work, it’s all about giving to those in need.  And like volunteers, they don’t get praised enough nor paid at all.  But they’re sure sought out when they’re needed -often that need is desperate- and ignored when they’re not.

Whenever I see one I smile, for I know how much they give of themselves, how it uplifts us all in ways great and small and I appreciate it.  Whether a young woman chooses to give us a few good years of service in high school or college, or feels the lifelong calling to serve in the often challenging fluid-rich environment of sluthood, we as a civilized polite society owe her thanks.

'Why?'  Some might ask.  I’ll tell you why.

They are the single most powerful civilization driving force modern society has ever been blessed with having.

So powerful a force for good they are that the mere image or evoking of their personages in advertising is enough to sell almost any product.class.  (The notable exceptions are cleaning products, most medications, or anything whose pitch involves healthiness or wholesomeness.)

"Good" girls tend to resent sluts but they really shouldn't.  Sluts are by nature, dirtbag magnets.  A smart 'good' girl will not waste the opportunity when a slut walks in the room.  She'll watch carefully; not the slut, that's her stalking horse.  She'll watch which men watch the slut, and which dirtbags jockey for said slut's attention.  With no slut to draw them off, the ever-horny dirtbag will try hitting on whatever females are present, annoying the good girls and keeping the normally shyer nice guys away.

Society is shaped by them.  Every swivel of their hips and jiggle of their breasts moves us along in ways both calculated and unintentional.  Without going into endless detail on each point (this is a blog, not a book) I'll just shoot from the hip.  (that's a bullet joke)

- They make his good girls stand out
- They make dirtbags expose themselves (yes, I know, in more ways than one)

- They encourage physical fitness in all the men who work out to try to impress them

- They keep music alive by being groupies for bands who haven’t made it yet

   (If there hadn’t been a steady stream of willing sluts all over Gun’s N Roses in their ‘we all had to sleep in our van’ day before Appetite for Destruction they probably wouldn’t have stuck with it long enough to bring us Appetite for Destruction.)

- They prepare men for the unpredictable and unexpected challenges in life, for sluts don’t just bring the booty, they bring the crazy.

- They are a reliable test to expose marriage vow-breakers
- They're dependable character foils in coming-of-age comedies

- They support the widest job base or any demographic by supporting the following industries; Make-up, hair product, tight clothing, nightclub, liquor, cheesy accessory, short-stay motel, and either Condom OR pregnancy-test/abortion Industries

- Though you wouldn’t want to bring them home to mother, they make good training partners in the early going until you meet a girl who you would take home to mother.  A slut-trained lover is a man who knows what he’s doing.

- As future hookers they fulfill a (desperate) need for the segment of the adult male population none of the nice girls want to marry

- They’re cautionary tales to encourage nice girls to stay nice.

- It’s a persona nice girls can go slummin’ in if they have something they need to get out of their systems.

As you must admit by now, sluts give us SO much.  Where would we be without them?  In a drab world with crappy music and boring movies. 

And what do they get for it?  After years of leaving behind one satisfied smile for every two heads, the miles start to show.  And after overspending on clothes, high heels, makeup, trendy jewelry and alcohol so many end up poor, worn down, bitter and with few options.

But there will be no fund drives for sluts.   No old sluts home to retire too.  No slut appreciation day or 5K walkathons.  They don’t get a float in holiday parades or honorable mentions on the news.  No “I support sluts” stickers for window panes.  No “I want to be a slut when I grow up” T-shirts.  No invite to career day.  No booth at local festivals.  They serve in the shadows, and afterwards slip away unseen and even (unbelievably) unthanked.  Most forget their names five minutes after they’ve gone.

They do not deserve the disdain and flippant dismissal so often thrown their way.  So if you see a slut, especially a bitter old worn out one who should have really moved on years ago, buy her a drink.  She's earned it a thousand times over.  She may even thank you in a way all her own.

(If I were God, there'd be a special place in heaven set aside for all they've done.  You'd be able to spot it from any cloud -it'll be the one with all the guys milling around.)

Please, remember me as I was.

As always, If I Were God appreciates comments, ad-clicks and sharing of His articles. 

He sees all; disappoint Him not.

Go on, dance on his grave!



Let's not forget who started it.



There's an aftertaste of guilt going around about celebrating Bin Laden's snuffing.  The high-minded, high-road position has been taken by some who say that it's distasteful or irreligious or wrong in some other way to celebrate somebody's death, even Bin Laden's.  I must admit, these people do sound high to me.

The old sayings "don't speak ill of the dead" or "If you don't have something nice to say..." come to mind.  Even as a child I wondered "Why not?  If they're a big stupid then why can't I say so?"  (Remember, this started as a child)  It felt like a lie of omission to me even then.  But let's give it a chance and see if it works.

What should we say about Hitler then, for instance-  He was nice to dogs and had a flair for organization?

And Hannibal "I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti" Lechter- An incorrigible wit with eclectic cooking habits?

Finally Osama Bin Laden- though a tall man, he did not use his height to peek down women's blouses.

All of that's true.  But it kind of makes this murderous threesome sound like the regular guys you might bowl with or see down at your local watering hole.  It also ignores the most notable things about them -they're monsters covered in blood.

Just as the truth will set you free, not saying it will hold you down.  It generally isn't nice or necessary to speak ill of the dead, true, but if said dead is a terrorist and mass murderer it's not just okay.  It might be needed.  It might be cathartic. 

You don't hear crowds cheering at the end of movies these days, but I remember the sound in the theatre when Roy Scheider blew up the great white in Jaws.  Why?  Because he scared the shit out of everyone in that theatre for over two hours and we needed the release.  But that fish only killed six or seven.  Bin Laden, who after ten years finally sleeps with the fishes, killed a helluva lot more and not just on that September 11th.  Last week this real-life monster was finally killed.  The fear was real.  The blood was real.  The relief is real.  And now the whole world is better off for it.  Cheer as loud as you goddamn want.  For as long as you need to.

As always, If I Were God appreciates comments, ad-clicks and sharing of His articles. 

He sees all; disappoint Him not.

Osama bin found, Osama bin kilt

Yet, there are doubters who believe Bin Laden is not really dead. Why?  The given reason is because the body was made inaccessable almost immediately.  It was dumped in the ocean like Megatron at the end of Transformers.


Offical photo of Osamatron (Mega bin Laden?) on his way to the bottom

 The real reason some doubt?  Some people have cynicism in their heads where intelligence is normally kept.

Many people believe the moon landings were faked.
Some still don't believe the holocaust really happened.
Some think Elvis isn't dead.
Some believe the Pentagon was hit by a missile and not an airliner.

After this article some might wonder if Osama and Megatron were actually the same person, like Hannah Montana and Miley Cyrus, only less annoying and easier to listen to.  There's actually a better case to be made for Osama and Mega being the same person than for this weekend's killing to have been faked.  Osama and Mega actually have, had, a lot in common.  Both are

- Taller than average enemies of peace, truth and the American Way
- rely on threats rather than civil discourse
- commanders of a small private stealthy army
- the mastermind of a war largely fought in secret
- lived undetected in plain sight
- defeated by the scrappy efforts of Megan Fox and Shia LeBeouf (wait for the movie, you'll see)
- body dumped in ocean by thrifty government to avoid funeral/burial expenses

in addition neither

- believed in pants
- were stingy with explosives
- respected Michael Bay's directing style
- walked the red carpet
- ate kosher, even during Passover

Now I wonder who's going to start believing they're the same person,
and how much I'd make if I set up a "Worst of both worlds" tour?

As always, If I Were God appreciates comments, ad-clicks and sharing of His articles. 

He sees all; disappoint Him not.