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The God I Forgot To Make Up


Ro-bear
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I was over at my favorite the-world-will-surely-end-soon website a couple of days ago and noticed that one of the nice Christians had posted a prayer in the shoutbox. This person wanted the Steelers to beat the Colts. To me, this seemed the perfect opportunity to make up a god and test its power. I would pray fervently to my new god for a Colts victory, offering sacrements of beer and tortilla chips. I figured if the Colts won, my newly-minted god would have serious potential, kicking an established god's ass first time out and all.

 

But I forgot. Some friends with kids (FWK) called, and we all went bowling.

 

I forgot about the game, too. Today, while channel surfing I spotted a dejected Peyton Manning as the last seconds of a Colts loss ticked away. And it was all my fault! (this is the "rant: part) Crap!

 

But on the bright side, my god must be PRETTY POWERFUL if he can chasten me for not praying before I even invent him! I'm going to go ahead and name him now. He is named Bertram, but he prefers to go by Wayne since it sounds manlier. I shall offer the sacrements of beer and chips and pray for victory in the Checker Flag's dart tournament tonight.

 

I'll let you know how it goes. :wicked:

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Go Colts!!! (I live in Indianapolis)

 

Even though our coach is a fundy (the semi-charismatic African-American kind), he is a great mild mannered guy. He has handled the suicide of his son with dignity in the media, even if he believes he's going to see him again. Whatever keeps him going and being a good coach, I guess.... ;)

 

But I really don't like sports that much... honestly. It's just nice for the city to get some front page news once in a while.

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My god's name is Stentor, and he can kick any other god's ass any day of the week. He's got a very powerful Spook too who is also somehow magically Him, so watch out! Stentor is LOVE, but he will fuck you up if you piss Him off.

 

Go Colts!!! O yeah, they lost because they didn't show up for the game until it was almost over. :(

 

I love football, but I don't really give a damn about any other sport. I thought Brother Dungy handled himself very well. I can't imagine the depth of the pain he must be going through. It must be excruciatingly painful to lose a child!

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death to the stealers....in the name of wayne..amen
Absolutely! Damn thieves, anyway! :vent:

:lmao:

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I'm jealous that you all got your gods so easily.

 

Mine didn't reveal herself just at the snap of my fingers, no!

 

I had to coax her out from behind the birch tree with a trail of dropped pomegranate seeds. Then, when she choked on them, I had to do a Heimlich on her, after which she said (well, whispered, actually, like you do when your throat is all screwed up from a Heimlich), "Just give me Hosannahs instead."

 

So now five times a day I turn East, to the Blessed Birch, and give her Hosannah brand matzohs, in return for which she's promised me that the New York Football Giants will rise from their disgrace.

 

I've had to work extremely hard to get Yvette Almighty.

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My last god wasn't very good. His name was Schneele, and I found him in the Walmart parking lot.

 

His first miracle? Warming my coffee up. And it was already kind of warm...also, whenever I paid cash for anything he miraculously filled my pockets with exact change.

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Ohh whoops... they lost. Oh well. They never make it to the Super Bowl.... They are so fickle. LOL

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Wayne sucks.

 

No! Wait! That's blasphemy!

 

I was defeated. I was doing quite well until I got in a tight spot and cried, "Bertram, I beseech thee!"

 

I immediately realized my mistake.

 

This god thing is so damn tricky I don't see how anyone ever figures it out. :shrug:

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I had to coax her out from behind the birch tree with a trail of dropped pomegranate seeds. Then, when she choked on them, I had to do a Heimlich on her, after which she said (well, whispered, actually, like you do when your throat is all screwed up from a Heimlich), "Just give me Hosannahs instead."

 

So now five times a day I turn East, to the Blessed Birch, and give her Hosannah brand matzohs, in return for which she's promised me that the New York Football Giants will rise from their disgrace.

 

Damn Pitchu! I wish I was half as creative as you.

 

The closest thing I have to a god is any cream-filled Hostess Product. :shrug:

 

IBF

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So now five times a day I turn East, to the Blessed Birch....
Does this mean that if the Blessed Birch gave birth to a Saviour, He would be known as The Son of a Birch? :mellow:

 

You are so perspicacious, Fwee! That's indeed the holy monicker of Yvette Almighty's younger brother, Savior Etienne.

 

Though, because he is the product of this particular Blessed Birch's being raped by the Be-All Beech Tree, he's also known as The Son of a Beech.

 

Our scriptures recount how he was born, presenting himself butt-first from a large knothole in the side of the tree, an undeniable miracle and the first recorded Beech-Birch-Breech-Birth.

 

The event was witnessed by those who, understandably, had hurriedly evacuated the knothole seconds before; their story can be found in The Book of Squirrels.

 

 

The closest thing I have to a god is any cream-filled Hostess Product.

 

IBF,

 

Then yours may be the only truly Everlasting God, owing to Its level of preservatives. :HaHa:

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The closest thing I have to a god is any cream-filled Hostess Product.

 

IBF,

 

Then yours may be the only truly Everlasting God, owing to Its level of preservatives. :HaHa:

 

 

I agree, when choosing a deity, "shelf-life" should paramount on one's mind. :grin:

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I agree, when choosing a deity, "shelf-life" should paramount on one's mind. :grin:

 

Excusez-moi, but The Pizza To Die For is still the Supreme Entity in the universe, even bigger than that damned CuteBunnyCult, this newer, more hip "Hostess Cream Creature" with a shelf life stamped on its clear cellophane wrapper, or some pregnant birch tree.

 

TPTDF is currently morphing as thin crust and loaded with pepperoni. Beer has been established as its life giving force, but red wine may be substituted (sorry, Fwee, no cherry pop). I plan on attending said rites this week at Sausage Factory, Castro Street, SF. All are welcome to participate, but I won't save a table for you. First come, first eat. And, yes, a name with the word "sausage" like that in San Francisco IS funny, even to us wackos still living here.

 

Ro-bert, please accept this as your god and maybe the Colts will win next time.

 

And all this "Beech-Birch-Breech-Birth" fall-dee-rall has been lifted from Ovid. Remember to cite your sources now...hehehehee. :P

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Certdude, I would love to partake of this religious ritual with you in the Castro at the shrine known as the Sausage Factory. I can pocket my current deity and have it much much later if I want. I think it is good until the 24th Century. :lmao:

 

Damn Curtdude, I wish you would stop reminding me you live in civilization. I needed a few greeting cards last week and found nothing funny at all. If I were in the Castro right now I would head right over to “Does Your Mother Know” and pick up a 20 year supply of cards. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a card with a really hideous drag queen on the cover at Walgreens?

:vent:

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So now five times a day I turn East, to the Blessed Birch....
Does this mean that if the Blessed Birch gave birth to a Saviour, He would be known as The Son of a Birch? :mellow:

You are so perspicacious, Fwee! That's indeed the holy monicker of Yvette Almighty's younger brother, Savior Etienne.

 

Though, because he is the product of this particular Blessed Birch's being raped by the Be-All Beech Tree, he's also known as The Son of a Beech.

 

Our scriptures recount how he was born, presenting himself butt-first from a large knothole in the side of the tree, an undeniable miracle and the first recorded Beech-Birch-Breech-Birth.

 

The event was witnessed by those who, understandably, had hurriedly evacuated the knothole seconds before; their story can be found in The Book of Squirrels.

:mellow:

 

Holy Heaven Above!

I walked right in to that one.

 

You are so perspicacious, Fwee!
That's the second time you've used that word on me. And I haf'ta tell ya, I ain't likin' it. :Hmm:

 

Beech-Birch-Breech-Birth
:lmao::woohoo::lmao:

I actually tried to say this really fast, three times in a row. :woohoo:

 

I scored a two. :mellow:

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Pizza and Twinkies and Wayne, oh my! Pizza and Twinkies and Wayne, oh my! :loser:

 

Yvette Almighty of the Church Of Birch (who, btw, co-wrote, without attribution, the more vivid Ovidian passages, Curtdude) is unconcerned about the above lightweight interloper alleged deities. Not one of them can give butt-first birth to a savior.

 

FWEE:

That's the second time you've used that word on me. And I haf'ta tell ya, I ain't likin' it.

 

Not to worry, Dear Friend. Perspicaciousness can be readily managed by a good underarm deodorant. :HaHa:

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....Damn Curtdude, I wish you would stop reminding me you live in civilization. ....Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a card with a really hideous drag queen on the cover at Walgreens?

:vent:

 

heheheheh...HAHAHAH! To think that civilization is measured in how many drag queens can fit into your shopping bag! :eek:

 

But you, dear boy, have the beauty of NewEngland. And that lovely detached home with woods and everything (certainly the most envied photo in that thread, along with all the cute kitties and puppies).

 

Thanks to pitchu, we now have an ecumenical mantra: "Pizza and Twinkies and Wayne, oh my! Pizza and Twinkies and Wayne, oh my!" :thanks:

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It’s the Australian Open, and I decided to make up the Lord God Aussie. I pray to her when I want certain players to loose, obviously because I want their opponents to win. So far, Lord God Aussie has a 100% track record. She heard my prayer when I (selfishly) wanted

 

Serena Williams

Venus Williams

Andy Roddick

 

eliminated. No, I have nothing against American tennis players, I just dislike those three particularly. So, all I can say is all praise be to Lord God Aussie.

 

:goodjob:

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