After several days of careful contemplation I have come to the conclusion that the evangelicals may be right. Not about everything, like freedom fries or that whole tax the poor pay the rich thing, but about God. They may have something there.
God appeared to me in a vision today, floating in my bowl of Alphabits. He looked sort of like a monkey made out of Ps and Rs but it was unmistakably him. He looked up at me with an angry eye that spelled fprds and he spoke to me. Not directly, like with voice, but in my heart. Oh some may say it was the rum speaking (I had run out of milk for my cereal) but I know it was God. The big fella. The light of Bethlehem. There is no mistaking his awesome visage. It was incredibly delicious.
But before I consumed God's delectable face, I looked into it and was told the truth. God is not happy with me. He does not think I am living a righteous life. God does not think I am pure. He wants me to be pure.
God does not want me to freeze frame Original Sin in an attempt to look at Antonio Banderas' penis anymore. God made Antonio's penis, and he made beautiful. It is a beautiful penis, but it is a penis for the women to look at and admire, not for me. Why did he make such a lovely penis and refuse to share it with half the human population? God works in mysterious ways my friends, mysterious ways indeed.
On a related note, God does not want me to beat off repeatedly while listening to Whitesnake's "Here I Go Again" and thinking of Leah Thompson. He does not like that one bit. It doesn't matter how sexy she was in Caroline in the City, it's WRONG, and God knows it's wrong. He knows. He knows.
God wants me to stop taking the lord's name in vain. This will be easier after I stop beating off to Caroline in the City. God also wants me to stop calling my manhood the little Messiah. Or at least change the name to "The Very Little Messiah." God believes in truth in advertising.
God does not want me to keep that girl in the basement anymore. He thinks she should be free. God wants me to release her back into the wild. God thinks she's learned her lesson about cleaning up after her dog. God also wants me to bury the dog. It's been six months. He can smell it up in heaven.
God wants me to get a haircut. He thinks I look like a bum. Nobody ever got to heaven looking like that, says God. Also I should change my shirt.
God is not happy with my choice of careers. "Writing?" Says God? "You call that an industry? Let me tell you, son, I wrote the most popular book ever. You may have heard of it. It's called THE BIBLE. But that's no way to make a living. Trust me, people are always going to need a Mohel. You go into Moheling and you may not get rich but you'll make a good living." God is a little behind the times. Also, a little hung up on the whole penis thing. I think he's proud of it. "Colonel Sanders may have a unique blend of herbs and spices, but did he invent the penis? No. That was me. Unassisted. Thanks." God is a bit of a braggart.
God doesn't have a whole lot to say about wars in Iraq or social policy. He is too busy telling people minutiae of how to live their lives. "Don't dance or drink" God tells the Baptists. "Don't eat that lobster no matter HOW delicious it is" he tells the Jews. "Don't have the gay sex" he tells just about everyone. "I made the penis, do not abuse the penis! The penis is my gift to womankind! Do not share it with dudes! DO NOT SHARE THE PENIS" God's got about 7 billion people to talk to so he's pretty busy. It's hard telling everyone what to do all the time.
God doesn't want me to keep writing about him. He thinks I should be busy doing something productive with my life, like talking to him in a big church. He's not a huge fan of prayer, since he's heard just about all of them already. "Yeah, you want your infant child to live. REAL original. I haven't heard that one THREE HUNDRED MILLION TIMES. Did you cut his penis like I told Abraham?"
God wants me to shut up now. He's tired of this. Turns out, God's kind of a dick.