“Thank God it’s Friday,” said Joe, sipping his coffee and walking into the office.
God was on the golf course, lining up an easy 3 foot putt on the 8th green in Heaven.
“You’re welcome,” he grumbled.
Millions of others thanked God that it was Friday, and by the time He got to the 18th tee, he had snapped most of his clubs in half and shanked a basket full of balls into the rough clouds.
“You okay, Dad?” asked Jesus.
God pulled off his gloves, threw them into the cart, and pondered a Horrid Monday To Beat All Mondays.
Tag: religion
Not yet written
My mother always said that “God has not yet written the future.”
And she was right.
God never writes shit down.
Oh, He may send an angel or a burning bush to harass someone, and they’ll freak out and tell a bunch of people about it. But, really, God doesn’t write anything down.
Ever wonder why?
It’s because His handwriting is awful. Like a child holding a crayon in their fist.
And he’s too cheap to buy a voice recorder, let alone think about starting a podcast or YouTube channel.
So, He created mankind. To write shit down for him.
The Poison Machines
The preacher of the breakroom raises his hand and shouts:
The snack machines are full of brightly-colored and delicious death in shiny crinkly packets.
Just push a button.
They fit in your hand, so easy to tear open, puffing out rich scents.
Turn away, turn away. Don’t breathe it in!
They confess their ill intent right there on the ingredients list.
Poison! Poison!
Even the water… flour… sugar… all unclean and tainted by the industrial processing and cooking and packaging and delivery systems.
You are not the consumer. You are the consumed.
The machine wobbles… and falls on the preacher.
In The Beginning
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth, and then he called an insurance company to get a quote.
They hovered over the waters of the formless empty earth, came up with a figure within God’s budget, and they signed the policy.
Afterwards, when God separated night from day, land from water, and made all kinds of other things, He didn’t bother to update the policy.
That’s why he was so pissed about the apple and the Garden of Eden, although He did eventually manage to collect on His son’s life insurance policy.
Jesus took half, of course.
Hide And Shriek
Father Richard walked through the cemetery, waving the Bible over each grave and mumbling prayers.
He’d done this in five cemeteries already this week, and he’d yet to find anything.
Then, as he reached a freshly-dug grave, the ground erupted and an arm burst through the dirt.
Moaning… shambling horror…
Richard pulled the corpse out from the ground, tapped the Bible on its forehead, and said “Found you.”
“Took you long enough,” groaned the zombie. “Losing your touch?”
Richard coughed. “Just the weather, that’s all. See you in a week?”
“If you’re lucky.” The zombie shambled off into the mist.
Brother Theodore
Brother Theodore was very proud that knew the nine hundred and ninety-nine names of God.
“God has one thousand names,” said the Abbot. “Recite them now for me.”
Theodore tried, but he could not remember the thousandth name.
As punishment, he was strapped to a table, and for the next five days, as he was forced to the recite them once again, and the names of God were burned into his skin.
Until… he stopped.
“And the thousandth?” asked the Abbot.
Theodore tried, but he couldn’t remember.
The one he forgot was branded on to the tip of his tongue.
Goddess
You’re a mess. You’re a wreck. You’re a walking disaster.
And you think the Goddess can help you get your life straight?
When you invite the Goddess into your life, you invite her into your heart.
But like any guest, you must prepare your heart for her to enter it.
Would you invite over a guest to a mess of a home?
Would you invite over a guest to a wreck of a home?
Take power over your life!
Clean up your wicked ways!
And once you have gotten your life in order, you’ll find the Goddess waiting, already there.
Three Little Gods
The first little pig built his god out of straw.
The second little pig built his god out of wood.
The third little pig built his god out of stone.
They fought amongst themselves as to which followed the true faith.
The wolf didn’t believe in any religious nonsense, but he was good at faking it.
One by one, he let the pigs “convert” him, taking all three of his would-be saviors captive.
The stone, he used for a roasting pit.
The wood made an excellent frame.
And the straw lit easily.
“By the gods, so delicious,” moaned the wolf.
Taco-Faced God
God talks to me.
Me!
People think you’re crazy if you say God’s talking to you.
And I agree with them, because, like, why me? What’s so special about me?
God says I’m special. When He talks to me.
Thing is, he doesn’t appear with the big white beard. Or like George Burns.
He talks to me through tacos.
Sure, you see lettuce, beef, cheese, and hot sauce. But I see God talking to me.
Maybe it’s just the Taco Bueno kitchen guy hitting on me.
If it is, well, it’s so not happening.
(I asked for NO jalapenos, kid!)
The Can
Preacher say you can’t put God in a bottle or a box.
Or packed inside a wrapper.
Bright colors, big letters.
That’s not where you’ll find God.
You have to put Him in a can.
Not a cheap Aluminum can.
Or a rusty tin can.
You have to put Him in a steel can.
A solid American steel can.
Bigger than a soup can.
But smaller than a barrel. Or a keg.
Like that tomato soup can for prisons and schools.
Or the one restaurants get olives in.
About that big.
Gimme that can opener.
Let’s get us some God.