NOTE: This post has been written in perfectly terrible taste. If you’re a bit sensitive about your god, you should probably keep reading, and let this post help you learn to take a joke.
Life’s too important to take seriously. Making light of the heavy brings happy tears to baby Jesus. It also makes life easier for we mere mortals.
(But really, it’s just a joke, a jokey joke. Perhaps unfunny to some; oh well. I mean no harm).
Okay, so here’s the deal, God.
The modern, social world is a tough place to be. Just be. Being is tough. Yep, here, in 2013, simply eating, not trespassing, drinking, and breathing… it’s difficult. Really. Truly. No excuses – it’s just the world we’ve built.
Accordingly, I had to take a job that I don’t really like. And yep, it has me working the occasional Sunday shift. It’s a call centre, and I’m on a rotation that goes on all week. Ye old sacred Sabbath ain’t so sacred in my community. Sorry.
My new job also demands that I wear a suit. Actually, their dress code is exceedingly strict. They make me shave my beard, and they even made me cut my hair. Yes, I cut my hair. Despite that Levictus 19:27 explicitly states that I am not to – “You shall not round off the side growth of your head.” Sorry, but, yeah, like I said – times are tough.
Also, I’ve found myself feeling increasingly attracted to men. Last night (and not for the first time) I sodomised the shit out of (pun not intended) my friend, Ben. Ben Dover. He loved it, too. We both did, actually. It was the most blissful experience I’ve ever had. Ironically, betwixt the exchange of various effluvia, I found myself screaming: “Oh God, oh God, I’m coming, I’m coming,” and I felt as if I were entering into your ‘pearly’ gates. That’s ironic isn’t it? Considering that you’re not such a fan of the whole bumming thing? You know.
Another thing. Despite the bumming, I’m still happily married. However, my wife and I have decided that we’re going to open our relationship to others. Alas, I’ve adopted the status: infidel. Forgive me. Oh, and yeah, and my wife’s the one who came up with the idea. Her act was not one of subservience.
Please forgive me. (And she).
Last night, my wife went out hunting another man for us to both toy with. Lying in bed, alone, I started feeling a little frisky. My veiny little friend rose up, and up. I couldn’t help but give in to his command. It’s like I was possessed or something. I don’t know what came over me, or what got into me… well, yes I do, it was Ben Dover – how inappropriate a joke given the circumstances – sorry. Anyway, erect as a flagpole – I went for it. I jerked that gherkin with all the fervour my twiggy arms could muster. And mustard, I made.
Cause of my new job, and the stresses of modern living, I thought I’d join the local football team. Aside from touching the flesh of my teammates, I also handled a dead pig’s skin. That’s what football is about. I know that they are unclean to me, you told me that, and I get it. But I enjoy the sport. I need to get rid of these not-so-loving handles so that I can woo and shampoo the people my wife brings home. Sorry.
Umm, this one’s embarrassing. So, my wife and I don’t want kids. We decided this about a year ago. Because she wears the pants in the relationship, and because I don’t want to upset her, I decided that, instead of making her use birth control, and because condoms aren’t so big on your list of likes, I thought I’d get my testicles tied. Alas, my surgeon was an amateur. He fucked up. He fucked up good. Now, I’m left with one testicle.
Where am I going with this. Well, last week I went to church… without a full pair of kahunas. I entered into your place of worship, nut-less. Well, I have one nut. But yeah, you’re not so big on one nuts praying in your temple. My bad.
Last month, when Ben Dover was bending my wife over, without my being there – I was at work, on the Sabbath – when I walked in on them, I might or might not have used your name in vain. They were meant to tell me when they were gonna fool around. I just got so mad. You’ll be pleased to know… well, actually, on second thought, you’ll probably be displeased to know that we obviously sorted out the issue. We are now functioning perfectly well as a threesome. But yeah, point is, I used your name in vain. Why are you so big on that point, anyway? Like, you’re God – why do you even care? Really?
Anyway, I’m sure you have your reasons. I know, I’m a simple, feeble mortal – there’s no way that I can understand your perfectly Divine nature, for you are, fundamentally, incompressible (even though wer’e encouraged to comprehend you… what’s with that?) Sorry, sorry, I’m being a dick. I’ll just shut up.
That’s all I’ve got for now, Lord. I really do hope that we’re still good. I mean, I know that you can see all of my acts, and even my thoughts, so this confession is perfectly pointless. But hell, you’ve set up the conduits of church, which lead into your Kingdom, to encourage this sort of confessional stuff. So here we are.
Really, I hope you understand how tough modern living is. It’s not that I want to be a bad or wicked or immoral person, it’s just that the pressures and demands of life are getting to me – have already gotten to me.
I promise I’ll try to be a better person in the future. On second thought, I can hear a car in the driveway. Yep, Ben just got home. And the wife’s at work. It’s time for me to put my one nut to work and bend Ben over.
Humans-are-weird. Is sorry if he’s offended anyone. (No he’s not). Take me in jest, or don’t take me at all.