Q And A With God

     For the first time in the history of creation God has decided to grant humanity an exclusive interview in regards to the pillow talk of existence . In keeping with that concept what you are about to read has never been heard before and directly reflects the imaginary, divine disposition of the Almighty. Enjoy.

Pat: Do midgets have kneecaps?

God: Yes, but they’re even less effective than their ankles. I was,after all, working mostly with spare parts. Adorable little things, though. Kind of like punctuation marks to the statement of civilization.

Pat: I see. So they’re just the leftovers from creation?

God: Waste not, want not. That’s what I always say. Well, that and God Bless You.

Pat: Like for when someone sneezes,right?

God: No, no, not exactly. Burps and farts also qualify. But, really you can say it for any occasion. I like to throw it out there as a salutation sometimes.

Pat: I get it. It’s a pretty versatile statement. You can use it basically whenever you feel it’s relevant.

God: Precisely. You can say it whenever you want. Well, except after a man ejaculates. That’s not exactly an appropriate time.

Pat: So you’re not a fan of the Roman Baptism?

God: Is that what that’s called? Jesus.

Pat: I know, right? Kids and their slang these days. Kind of makes you wonder where they come up with this stuff. Do you ever regret granting humanity free will?

God: For centuries it was never that big of a deal. You would have your regular rapes and murders, run of the mill misogyny, wars, etc. Nothing of any great concern. But then the damn Internet came about and all hell broke loose.

Pat: So rape and murder weren’t that big of a deal but the Internet is what made you regret granting humanity free will?

God: Have you ever witnessed a Mexican donkey show?

Pat: Point taken. So back to anatomy. Why do feet look so weird?

God: To be honest they were my first attempt at hands. I wasn’t crazy about the way they came out so I slapped them on your ankles and started over.

Pat: Is that right?

God: Sadly, yes. Don’t even get me started on the way your buttholes originally looked.

Pat: The Play-Doh Fun Factory comes to mind.

God: You’re not far off.

Pat: So are there any other regrettable body parts you came up with?

God: Not at all. Mankind was designed after my own likeness. Although, I’m not a huge fan of that stretchy portion of skin behind the elbow. The wenis, I believe you call it? It’s like a partial scrotum on your arm. Rather unfortunate but necessary.

Pat: I know what you mean. Mine stretches out like Walter Matthau’s jowls. How is he, by the way?

God: Oh, he’s well. He keeps us regularly entertained. He and that Jack Lemmon are always at it. But, really I shouldn’t be discussing that sort of thing without a Ouija board present.

Pat: Rules are rules, I suppose. So are we the only source of life you created in the universe or are there others like us?

God: Well, I could answer that question but then I’d have to kill you.

Pat: Fair enough. I have to admit you did a great job creating dogs. They’re pretty awesome.

God: I had to balance out the existence of cats.

Pat: Would you say you’re not a cat person?

God: I love all of my creations equally but lets just say if a cat is crossing the highway I don’t exactly nudge the truck out of its path.

Pat: Good to know. So have you ever intervened in the way things have played out down here on Earth?

God: That would sort of undermine the concept of free will. Although that being said I may have slipped a few prayer Percocets into Jesus before he got crucified.

Pat: Seems only fair. He’s supposed to be making another appearance sometime in the future, right?

God: He is, eventually. But trying to get kids to do anything these days is damn near impossible. Most times I’m just happy if his room is clean.

Pat: So Jesus has his own room in heaven?

God: He does, although if you asked him you’d think he runs the entire joint. But he’s my kid, so I have to love him. Well,that and the fact that I’m God.

Pat: It sounds like you two have a pretty good relationship. Is it hard being a single dad while monitoring all of creation?

God: That’s the beauty of omnipotence. It’s kind of like having a baby monitor in the next room except that room is everywhere and that baby is everyone.

Pat: Interesting. Do you two ever do any father and son type stuff like have a catch?

God: We tried that once but Jesus wouldn’t stop turning the ball into a dove and it kept flying away. He found it hilarious. I was not as impressed.

Pat: I can see why. Well, that pretty much wraps up all of my questions for you, God. Is there anything you want to say before we end the interview?

God: Yes. It isn’t healthy the way you masturbate.

Pat: Like, the style or the frequency?

God: Both.

Pat: Damn it.

God: That’s what I’m saying.

The Red White and Booo

On the eve of the election we all sit by and watch

As the future of our country soon heads toward it’s crotch.

Two candidates we have with much scandal galore,

And most women still think that Donald Trump panders whores.

But Hillary is no stranger to the tide of the swill

For she will not stray from demanding a kill.

Yet neither is worth the vote we must cast,

And most would be better off licking their ass.

But here our nation stands with two choices before,

While our country does hang in the balance of yore.

The good days of olde now no longer apply

Because every four years there’s another new guy

One that decides what must stay and what goes,

And what gets included in this current freak show.

The more these things change the more they remain,

So here the populous sits mad scratching its brains.

It’s not just the vote that we need to abide

But the fact that we all have been getting the snide.

Two candidates to choose and still neither apply,

Though both have arrived on a parade full of lies.

Perhaps it’s not them but the system that hurts,

We accept empty promises while our integrity bursts.

What choice do we have?  Please, where can we go?

The less options there are… well the less we all know.

But that’s the way it is meant.  That’s just how it should be!

If we cannot account for our own dignity.

And so here we must sit, watching polls do their dance,

Praying to God that the system will soon necromance.

For too long the deceased have been sounding their voice

To serve a purpose that surpasses their choice.

The system is fixed, old souls have no say!

Still nothing has changed til this very day.

With each new election there presents a new face,

Causing us voters to stress, fret and pace.

When will it end, and how must it go?

Perhaps we all need to stop watching this show.

Like bad television the subscribers all command

What the network accepts as supply and demand.

Well, I guess we’re no worse if you check the T.V.’s

Because their relevance is based on the you’s and the me’s.

Tomorrow it changes or perhaps it does not,

For if our voice mattered there’d be legal pot.

But that’s just a glance at the way things should be

If we honestly had power there’d be a “you n me”.

Though sadly there isn’t, there’s just what’s been sold

And that’s what we’re left with until we’re all old.

So sit back and laugh as this election unfolds

Because nothing is left for us dependents of gold.

Ass Wipes

     Why do certain people believe there is a right and wrong way to hang toilet paper?  How did this become a thing?  Right or wrong way?  Did the paper serve your intended purpose?  Then I’d say it worked.  If I feel like my colon is about to unleash hell the last thing I’m worried about is what direction the toilet paper is facing. 

     The real concern should be is there enough?  Will I be able to walk away from the poop with my pride still intact? 

     Running out.  That’s the real problem.  I think very few people would find consolation in having to throw away a perfectly good pair of socks because the toilet paper, although facing the “proper” direction, ran out. 

     And why do people feel the need to put the roll back on the dispenser if it’s off?  Maybe I wanted the toilet paper to stay on the sink.  Maybe I wipe like a mad man and need plenty of space and range. 

     Don’t put the roll back on the dispenser if it’s off.  You wouldn’t take those kinds of liberties with other items in the bathroom.  You wouldn’t rearrange the medicine cabinet because the Percocets weren’t next to the Valume. 

     Leave it alone.  It’s a product whose sole purpose is to wipe shit from your ass.  There is no wrong way to store it.  Unless it’s in the toilet.  In that case you’re shit out of luck.  

10 Songs That Should Never Be Played In A Funeral Parlor

1. Knocking On Heaven's Door

2. Don't Fear The Reaper

3. The Hokey Pokey

4. Another One Bites The Dust

5. The Old Grey Mare

6. Happy Birthday

7. Stairway To Heaven

8. Highway To Hell

9. Thriller

10. Margaritaville

Too Soon?

     I think it’s a shame that Michael Jackson died so young.  I was really looking forward to seeing how all that plastic surgery was going to age.  Imagine how that would have gone?  He already looked like something that a little kid would check for under his bed.  Well, truth be told I’m sure that happened on a regular basis anyway. 

    

     I would have really liked to watch Mike’s aging process.  I wonder if he would have gone gracefully or more of a full blown cellular collapse?  Ever see those people?  The kind where it looks like their face just said, “Fuck it, I’m done?” The skin around their neck starts to look like it could double for a nut sack and they get that dangly turkey warble, chin clit?  This is not an attractive look but it happens all the time.  There’s even surgery to prevent it.  Which brings me back to MJ. 

     How does one age when 80% of your face is made from plastic?  Would it look like a geriatric wearing a Halloween mask?  Would the center hold its integrity while the surrounding areas sagged off like molten skin tissue?  And imagine the effect this would have on his children!  Although it couldn’t be any harder than watching daddy take off his wig and hang his fake nose on his mannequin head every night before unshackling a child from his rape dungeon and heading off to bed. 

     Did you know that’s why Mike called it “Never Never Land?”  Because you could never talk about what happened when the lights went out.  And we thought what happened in Vegas stayed in Vegas.  Yikes!

     But back to aging.  Mike was 50 when he died.  Well, actually he was seven if you check with his therapist but physically it happened at 50.  50!  And he looked like that!  He was really just starting to hit that window of age acceleration where things could have gotten really exciting for the rest of us.  Especially with the boom in social media.  Imagine all the fun the Internet would have had?  People say guys like John Lennon or Biggie Smalls were taken too soon but not me.  I’m team MJ!  If only for the sadistic degenerative spectacle that would have ensued. 

     And lets not forget the toll aging takes on the rest of your body.  Mike was probably the best dancer this world has ever seen, in or out of the courtroom, but sooner or later Father Time comes to collect.  His dancing sure would look a whole lot different with a plastic hip.  But I guess Moon Walking in a wheelchair is really just called rolling backwards.

     I wonder if dementia would have set in.  That could have been fun.  Poor old Mike sitting in his wheel chair just blabbing about all of his adolescent sexual conquests, totally oblivious to the fact that he’s incriminating himself while throwing in the occasional “shamon!” or “hee-hee!”  Maybe that’s life’s truth serum; dementia.  Maybe all of the whacky shit our grandparents say that we write off as nonsense are actually just their subconscious minds taking massive shits.  Maybe grandpa really did sleep with Audrey Hepburn.  Probably not, but it’s fun to think so. 

     Damn it, Mike!  You were taken too soon!

Nobody Cares

     Have people stopped caring about Cancer… or cause bracelets?  I don’t see as many of these things around as I used to.  So either we’ve cured cancer or the fashion trend has passed us by.

     Or maybe the market just got too oversaturated.  I used to think that one color represented one issue.  Pink meant save the boobs, yellow meant you were probably down a nut, orange meant protect our midgets (they’re endangered, right?), and green was to legalize pot.  Turns out that’s not the case.  Much like dealing with an ex-girlfriend the bag of issues represented by one expression is only the tip of the iceberg.

     The marketing boom on these trendy rubber statements went from finite to flooded almost over night.  There are now 18 different colored bracelets that represent 133 different problems according to www.supportstore.com.  Let’s see Jay-Z write a rap about that! 

     Out of those 18 only 3 don’t have something to do with a specific type of cancer.  Too much, right?  To be fair tough this was kind of cancer’s thing from the start.  

     So far there is only one bracelet that has a single cause- peach.  If you’re rocking a peach colored bracelet then your down with putting an end to Uterine Cancer.  Shouldn’t that one be pink?  Never mind. 

     Maybe the way to keep the bracelets relevant is to work out a more specific way of categorization.  Take all of your cancers and put them into one bracelet.  I don’t think cancer will mind.  Then lets grab all the mental issues and give that a specific color, let’s say black.  Keep it honest.  Pink would be an insult to a guy that feels like the world has collapsed in on his soul. 

     Next we go for the physically disabled.  Blue feels right for this one.  Maybe it’s all those reserved parking spaces outside of the mall.  Not sure but let’s go with it.  Then we move on to social issues of violence and misconduct.  I was thinking green for these but that might send the wrong message.  Red would probably convey more of a “stop” feel.

     What do we do for the people with bone and blood disorders?  Well let’s give them periwinkle.  Why?  Because they’re probably going to die anyway but at least the color of their bracelet sounds happy. 

“Hey, whada ya got there?”

“It’s a periwinkle bracelet.”

“Well that sounds festive.”

“It means I’m going to die.”

“Tough luck.”

“No shit.”

     Everybody wins!

     We still have issues like blindness and eating disorders to cover.  If you can’t keep a meal down because swimsuit season is just around the corner I don’t think a rubber bracelet is going to do much in terms of correcting the problem.  No more bracelets for the bulimic/anorexic.  From now on you guys get snack packs.

     And blind people?  What’s the point in a fashion statement?  It’s a nice thought but how about something they can pick up on.  No more bracelets for them either.  From now on they get bells.  It will be their way of… cough… chiming in.  And how come blind people get a bracelet and not colorblind people?  Not seeing a thing is cause worthy but seeing the world like it was originally filmed in 1950 doesn’t count?  I call bullshit.  Get these guys a grey bracelet. 

     And last but not least we have global issues of war and peace.  Yellow has taken us this far let’s not stray from the course. 

     Any other issue, be it social or physical should probably fall under one of these as a subcategory.  If it doesn’t then tough shit, complaining doesn’t deserve a bracelet either.