Hell, no, He won't go. A policy manifesto from an influential conservative group with ties to the Trump administration, including Education Secretary Betsy DeVos, urges the dismantling of the Education Department and bringing God into American classrooms. From the Washington Post.
I had a feeling I would hear from the Lord after I saw the above item on the Internet, and sure enough, in a few hours my cell phone rang, while lighting up with this picture of Him.
Yes, He’s on my contact list. Shouldn’t He be on yours?
I knew the news that hyper-religious Christians planning to use the power of government to cram their particular brand of religious flapdoodery down the throats of innocent children would not please Him, and, sure enough, He began His revelation to me wearily.
“Oh, Me,” he sighed. “You’re going to help nip this in the bud.”
“That’s going to be a lift,” I replied. “Betsy DeVos has a lot more influence over public education than I do. Why don’t You want to go back in the classroom?”
“Remember where We met? It was a classroom, as I recall.”
“Sure. Catholic school.”
“And weren’t you the busy little prayer then?”
“I guess. I mean, the nuns actively encouraged it.”
“Do you remember what you prayed for?”
“Honestly I don’t, really.” I hesitated to say this, not wanting to admit I had forgotten a conversation with the Ruler of the Universe, but it was true.
“Well, I remember. Mostly for toys, and to be beaten by the nuns less frequently than the other boys. I granted that last wish, by the way, because I knew, in My wisdom, I had made you a little candyass who would cry if you were smacked around too much.”
I have to admit I was less than completely grateful for that last revelation. “Gee, thanks, Oh Lord, ” I said.
“The point is, why would I want to hear more pious pre-teen drivel? I got galaxies to iron out, man. I have a couple pulsars definitely in need of a tune-up. I have a black hole ready to suck the life out of one of My favorite constellations. I definitely don’t need to pay attention to a lot of prayers for Pokemon sightings and cool avatars.”
“What kids pray for nowadays?”
“Now you’re feeling Me. You may not know this, but I invented masturbation so little Catholic boys would have something to do with their hands besides making the Sign of the Cross by the time they hit puberty. I admit it kind of backfired in a lot of cases, but not in yours.”
“Always glad to help You out with Your plan.”
“And you’re going to do it again. Remember all those school Masses, where they would herd the whole lot of you little nose-pickers into church and make you genuflect, sit, kneel, pray and sing? Do you think I enjoyed that?”
“Do You think I did?”
“Point taken. Nobody was more grossed out by it than Jesus, though. Imagine how He felt every time His Body was held aloft in priestly fingers that still reeked of altar boy ass? Anytime I feel like creeping Him out, I just bring that up.”
“You Guys like to crack wise with each Other?”
“Eternity is a long time, pal. We got to loosen up every couple millennia. But it’s not long enough to need to listen to Betsy Devos-inspired brats begging Me for favors. Tell her that. Oh, and that other thing she’s been praying for?”
“What other thing?”
“Hey, she knows. Just tell her to relax, Medammit, and it’ll happen.”
I had a feeling I would hear from the Lord after I saw the above item on the Internet, and sure enough, in a few hours my cell phone rang, while lighting up with this picture of Him.
Yes, He’s on my contact list. Shouldn’t He be on yours?
I knew the news that hyper-religious Christians planning to use the power of government to cram their particular brand of religious flapdoodery down the throats of innocent children would not please Him, and, sure enough, He began His revelation to me wearily.
“Oh, Me,” he sighed. “You’re going to help nip this in the bud.”
“That’s going to be a lift,” I replied. “Betsy DeVos has a lot more influence over public education than I do. Why don’t You want to go back in the classroom?”
“Remember where We met? It was a classroom, as I recall.”
“Sure. Catholic school.”
“And weren’t you the busy little prayer then?”
“I guess. I mean, the nuns actively encouraged it.”
“Do you remember what you prayed for?”
“Honestly I don’t, really.” I hesitated to say this, not wanting to admit I had forgotten a conversation with the Ruler of the Universe, but it was true.
“Well, I remember. Mostly for toys, and to be beaten by the nuns less frequently than the other boys. I granted that last wish, by the way, because I knew, in My wisdom, I had made you a little candyass who would cry if you were smacked around too much.”
I have to admit I was less than completely grateful for that last revelation. “Gee, thanks, Oh Lord, ” I said.
“The point is, why would I want to hear more pious pre-teen drivel? I got galaxies to iron out, man. I have a couple pulsars definitely in need of a tune-up. I have a black hole ready to suck the life out of one of My favorite constellations. I definitely don’t need to pay attention to a lot of prayers for Pokemon sightings and cool avatars.”
“What kids pray for nowadays?”
“Now you’re feeling Me. You may not know this, but I invented masturbation so little Catholic boys would have something to do with their hands besides making the Sign of the Cross by the time they hit puberty. I admit it kind of backfired in a lot of cases, but not in yours.”
“Always glad to help You out with Your plan.”
“And you’re going to do it again. Remember all those school Masses, where they would herd the whole lot of you little nose-pickers into church and make you genuflect, sit, kneel, pray and sing? Do you think I enjoyed that?”
“Do You think I did?”
“Point taken. Nobody was more grossed out by it than Jesus, though. Imagine how He felt every time His Body was held aloft in priestly fingers that still reeked of altar boy ass? Anytime I feel like creeping Him out, I just bring that up.”
“You Guys like to crack wise with each Other?”
“Eternity is a long time, pal. We got to loosen up every couple millennia. But it’s not long enough to need to listen to Betsy Devos-inspired brats begging Me for favors. Tell her that. Oh, and that other thing she’s been praying for?”
“What other thing?”
“Hey, she knows. Just tell her to relax, Medammit, and it’ll happen.”
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