The Polo Shirt of Lost Causes

Fame! I'm famous! This really cool guy somewhere really likes me!
Matter of fact, his blog is called, "When you're burning in Hell, I'll ask Jesus if I can send ya' some KoolAid", which is for one thing-evil (he left out both the dash and the Registered Trademark symbol from Kool-Aid, which is one of the many fine products of Kraft Foods), and for another, hee-larious! He has a lot of cool friends that obviously genuinely like him, and it's not like they're crazy and pathetic or something! I bet he gets a lot of "chicks", and doesn't live in his mom's basement! Not by a long shot!

But something I don't get at all is why they keep asking if I'm being 'sarcastic'. What's to be sarcastic about when you're me? I don't know: maybe it hasn't occurred to someone like "Mister" (LOL!) that I happen to posess every awful secret in the universe, including the central, most terrible one of all: There is a God, and He hates you!
That's not all, either. Not by a long shot. Along with having heard not only God's Confession (it's a doozy), I also have photos of him weeping at his mom's breast as an infant (and you don't want to see what his Mom looks like), which is really the one thing I use whenever I need to hold something over him. He just goes to pieces, and is all like, "Gimme it! Gimme it! It's mine!", and I'm all like, "Oh what? This picture? This picture right here?" as I keep it at arm's length. His arms flail childishly, hopelessly, and I just laugh and laugh. But I haven't seen him in ten-thousand years, so the joke kind of loses its zing.

Well, that's another thing. His Mom. (This is a big one. I'm really not supposed to tell you this one.) Since she's really just some sort of Hate Virus from Outer Space (I don't make the rules), once she gave birth, the Management had to come up with some sort of physical being for the Child to imprint as Mother.
But we were all a lot more stupid in those days shortly after the creation of the Known Universe (tm), and a bit strapped for technology, so what she is is...
I can't say it. If you were to know the identity of the True Mother of God, you would posess powers unknown to Man. By reading this 'blog', you would automatically have something to throw in God's face the next time you see Him! You would no longer be afraid of...God, God would be afraid of...You, and...

She's a water heater. She's a water heater that they stuck a washtub on top of, and then painted on a face with some lipstick. You shoulda seen how the little guy loved that thing. When he went to school later (Space School though: you probably haven't heard of it; it's in space), the other deities made so much fun of him, pretty much every day he'd run home screaming and crying. Then when he got there, he'd throw his arms around that damn water heater (which some of us named 'The Licorice Demon', for reasons I really can't divulge) and feel a whole lot better. She was so warm.

Of course, when he (fin-ally) grew up and realized that his 'mom' was actually a water heater (and a functioning water heater: it was in Ashtoreth's basement), he went twelve kinds of Jealous, Vindictive, Hangin' Judge God crazy, as pretty much everyone can attest. This is a Great Secret.

So if I know that, I think I can safely say that I know everything about my new Buddy in Blogland, too (note: posting pictures of yourself from ten years ago, before you gained a hundred pounds, is unfair, I'm just sayin') . I know all about you, and you too, so let's be friends. Maybe we can get it together to finally send that Letter of Termination to that bastard up in the Skybox, eh?
And I'll teach you the value of learning to take as good as you give. It's valuable.

I bought a polo shirt today from John McCain 2008, because like I said, I'm omniscient, and I appreciate a good laugh as much as anyone. I dunno. It's blue. I like blue.