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Dear God,
If I had hands, I’d be strangling you right now. These hooves are getting old. Old. Old. Old. Old. Old. Old. Old. Old. Old. Old. They’re useless. Have you ever tried typing on a computer keyboard with a pair? Thank you for the handy typing assistant angel you sent me, sure, but no thank you for the every-so-often that I must get my hooves trimmed.
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Dear God,
Michael Steele owes me! Big time! He promised me a deal, and he has to deliver. We were going to work together, or I thought so. I guess I was too anxious to consider the consequences of working with MICHAEL STEELE!!! I should have known better. But Steele still owes me! He owes me BIG TIME!!!
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Dear God,
I can honestly say that I’m truly at peace. I never would have imagined that I would ever be this ONE with the universe. But there is no need to imagine anymore. I should have died years ago! I’m 1,000-percent “pro-death” now. Sold! Death has opened my mind up to infinite possibilities. But I wouldn’t recommend death for everybody.
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Dear God,
Usually, when I write you, I bitch, I complain, I whine, I nag, I ask you sarcastic rhetorical questions, and then I mock your existence – sometimes in the same note. Sometimes, when I write you, I figure that you’re not listening to me, and then I cry after hitting “Send.” Other times, I cry as I’m writing you. Oftentimes, I pretend to cry to test you.
On rare occasions like this one, I cry before I write. But, this time, it’s different. This time, I cry not out of my own self-pity and self-absorption. I cry because I can’t stop laughing. Visiting Ann Dunham in hell changed my life. Her magic opened my heart and, oddly enough, tickled my funny bone so hard it still hurts!
Dear God,
I feel sort of conflicted about publishing my “The Catholic Church is a Criminal Enterprise” piece on True/Slant the other day. Still, every time I feel the mustard bottle in my pocket, I’m reminded that there are some things that should be kept secret. Not much. Just a few. This one secret certainly is in my own personal top five, perhaps at number three.
In Illinois, I was conceived by a clown and a community organizer behind an altar. In the Lutheran Church - Missouri Synod (LCMS), I was a pastor’s kid. In Sweden, I would have probably been the lead singer of a black metal band. In Texas, I accidentally became a journalist near where a certain president spent his summer vacations. In True/Slant, I’m a satirist. In life, I call it "life," not "lifestyle." In reality, I like you.
See my profile »| Followers: | 9 |
| Contributor Since: | October 2009 |
| Location: | Texas |
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