If God is so great, then why can't this universe have better internet?
If God were a cuttlefish, things would be different. Donctha think? Higher rents around rocky reefs for one thing. Snootier, holier-than-thou cod too, probably.
If I was God, I'd sell off the place to the current residents and go do something worthwhile. You?
Speaking of God — meh.
The Son of God was actually named "Bruce", and wore a kilt, but they don't want you to know that. (Or ask about it.)
Was talking to God yesterday. Asked if there's a retirement plan for supreme beings. Yes, but God is only a contractor, so when the gig is up, there's no tomorrow. Sounds familiar, though we were all hoping for a better ending on our side of the fence, weren't we?
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Me? Gonna be running this universe some day. Betcha.
God farted, and the earth shook, etc. OK fine. Get lost.
Did you ever wonder why God needs to be worshiped? I mean, omnipotent, omniscient, existing before space and beyond time, creator of all that exists, and also vain and insecure enough to require worship too? Doesn't that sound like your typical spoiled brat rich kid who has nothing going on, who is all bluster and puffery and tantrums, and is basically a blundering major league fuckwit asshole? Is what I wonder.
God said that you're a dick. I would consider that a compliment, considering the source.
God told me a joke and then farted while laughing at it. Up to that point I didn't think that the joke was particularly funny, and not afterward either.
God woke up in the gutter with a hangover and pants full of diarrhea and no one said a thing. You can do that when one word and a quick point of your finger will send anyone to hell forever. (And you also made hell. Can't leave out that part.)
I tried talking to God again, but still go straight to voicemail. Something is definitely fishy here, and I don't like fish at all.
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Me? That there is what I think.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, planted a garden this year. Only one seed. Me. But when I didn't sprout properly she dug me up again and gave me a solid spankin'. That naughty, naughty lady. I guess we're now back on course.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, said I'd look pretty good on top of the Xmas tree this year. (It's a thing that they do around here, where her family is.) And wouldn't you know, I immediately began to pucker up, remembering Cousin Ephraim Elbert Eeeps. Poor bugger was wiggling around up there for six weeks, without even a potty break.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, says that tomorrow is the big day. That was all. No details yet. I'm hoping that she'll be untying me before the main event. That would be plenty for me, considering. Maybe I'll get fed too, but I hope it's not to the swine. Hope — I still have some left from last time.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, slept late last week. She didn't go to bed until 76:51:27.3 GMT, according to her, and then she snored a whole lot. She does that. Nevertheless, she retained enough residual consciousness to periodically pop upright and plug a random rat with her Colt M1911 .45 caliber pistol, before settling back into a peaceful beauty sleep. Beauty, eh? That's her.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, told me that I need to help her make a batch of nitroglycerine. Considering what happened the last time, I'm thinking maybe I'll go hide for a few days.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, wants to plant me out in the family vegetable garden again, so I can listen to what the bugs are saying about her. Bugging the bugs, so to speak. She promised that she would come by and water me at least once a week, but so far I'm a bit skittish about the whole enterprise, especially since the family's monthly compost-shoveling contest and beer-pee fest is coming around all too soon. (Lots of wet times during those days. Lots.)
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Me? Happily licking things that can't get away. Selected people too, on occasion.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, has gotten all engrossed in toodle making lately, and she has become pretty good at it too, especially with the part that requires toodle ooze. Toodles and toodle ooze everywhere — what more could a guy stand to experience?
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, has recently lapsed into an unusually quiescent phase, and in fact is nowhere to be seen. All of which leaves me a lot more twitchy than usual. I've left a dummy cozily planted in my bed just in case. I never know exactly when she might attack, or from what angle, or why, but that's life, innit?
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, is now breeding thrips. Not personally, mind you, but putting them together to do whatever comes to mind. "Thrips for Trips" will be her business name, the point being that if you have a bunch of them in your luggage, then they will scare away hotel bedbugs. I'm not so sure myself if I want to lug around buckets of bugs in order to avoid other bugs, but I know enough to keep a low profile where her projects are concerned.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, is off today,though her rocket is still rumbling and grunting, so I probably need to be careful about how I handle my public service announcements.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, is really good to me. She hasn't set me on fire for this entire month, and I'm hoping to extend my winning streak as far as I can. Hiding the matches was probably a good move. Next? Maybe her flamethrower.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, just started a sausage ranch. I'm not quite sure what this means, though I'm never going anywhere without buttered toast and a dish of scrambled eggs until the matter is resolved.
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Me? I keep trying, I do.
Captain There He Goes Again has finally left the building, which we applaud, and whatever may happen next will be declared none of our concern.
Captain Tiny Nut Cups still can't locate a hint of proper traction in the marketplace of significant ideas. Maybe time to turn in the old nutcracker for something with batteries then, eh?
Captain Syrupy Goo always seems to have sticky fingers, at least in my experience, though I've never touched her except via 10-foot pole, with a referee present to certify that I'm following regulation procedures. Anyway, it has never been as much fun as I could have hoped.
Captain Talcum Powder Sprinkles is best left to the professionals to handle. They know how to deal with these situations and the rest of us don't. Really. No. We don't.
Captain Slightly Left Of Center can't help it. His offside leg is a bit short, but he can still kick butt like nobody's business and he'll tell you it's none of your particular business either, and if you don't take the hint, he will show you how, by kicking your butt from one side to the other until you didn't know what-all, so that's the story about all that.
Captain Snugglebunny is for advanced users only, and may even require a note from your mom.
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Me? Going to try whooshing later this week, see if that helps.
