It’s not like Me to do this, but I’m going to admit that many times My own sheep have given My Father and I way too much credit. People regularly thank Us for things such as being beautiful, putting food on the table, and whatever the fuck “saving” means. In reality, there have only been three miracles We have performed:
The first and most famous miracle is when I walked on water. Which actually isn’t even true: I was just tip toeing really fast because those fucking fish kept trying to bite my fucking toes. That’s the real reason why I allow fish to be eaten during Lent.. I’m getting those cocksuckers back for trying to eat Me. Assholes.
The second divine miracle is almost as famous: the changing of water into wine. Most people come up with these bullshit reasons why I did it. “To prove He’s the source of life,” “It symbolized marriage,” and the biggest crock of shit I’ve ever heard: “to illustrate the inimitable nature of God’s revelation.” No, sorry, folks: it was because I was a drunk. I got My junk caught in My robe’s zipper, and so I was late to the wedding. By the time I got there, the bastards drank all the wine, and the only reason I even came was to get drunk and have a good time. So I took some water, made it into wine, and got so blasted I ended up pissing all over Myself.
The third miracle was the most difficult: letting Chris Farley live as long as he did. I mean Jesus Fucking Christ that fat bastard should have been dead at least ten years before he finally foamed at the mouth and croaked. It’s not even because he was fat, either: that wasn’t really fat; it was kilos of coke. You could literally insert a tap into his bellybutton and coke would spill out like corn out of a combine.
So the next time some pretentious prick says it’s a miracle that he’s still alive, punch him in his fucking mouth and tell him Caucasian Jesus only extends miracles for self-preservation, self-degradation, and coke-filled but hilarious motherfuckers.