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Back from the Shineese Earthquake

Well I obviously haven’t written in a while, and I swear I have a good reason for it: I’ve been helping those poor folks over in Shine-a after My Dad sharted and an earthquake rattled the shit out of them. Really, it took me a few days to realize they had even been hit; My Dad and I laughed our fucking heads off at the sound of that thing. Best. Fart. Ever.

Sichuan Earthquake 2008Despite being on the front line and trying to pull people out of the rubble, none of them seem to see Me through their squinty chink eyes. Makes Me feel sad, but that’s what they get for rubbing Buddha’s stomach for good luck. Or an orgasm. Or whatever they rub him for.

We do regret the destruction, though. Ever since it happened I haven’t been able to find a good plate of General Tso’s “Chicken”/dog. That shit hits the spot.

So you can thank spicy Mexican food for the Chinese earthquake. Next Thursday We’re having Polish food, so you better be ready.

Also, look for some upcoming cyclones after We eat bad Russian food. Gives Us both diarrhea. And just in case you guys have any rain with a reddish tint, that’s just My Mom’s cooch still bleeding from being raped by My Dad. Just kidding: she’s still a virgin!

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The Future is Stepford

Well, I think it’s safe to say that Hillary has officially lost the November election for all Democrats, even when Obama will be the candidate.  Her awesome Bush-like attitude has now turned off all non-vaginaed voters, and My sheep will vote for McCain instead.  This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; after all, he hates brown people, too.  But even better…

…Jesusland will be the new Stepford.  If you have no idea what I’m talking about, open your fucking eyes and read a book every now and then.  Or at least rent the movie: The Stepford Wives.  It’s an awesome book whereby the men take control over their bitches’ minds and make them do all sorts of nasty things like toss their salads.  OK, maybe that last part didn’t happen, but it certainly should have.

Don’t believe Me that McCain won’t turn Jesusland into Stepford?

McCain's Wife

 

Either she’s already a Stepford wife or she has the tightest cunt known to man.

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Spreading the Word of GOD!

As if you weren’t aware, this blog is a sort of addendum to the Bible.  It’s my own personal touch to an otherwise boring and dreary book.  Now you can see Me and My Dad’s real thoughts.  With that said, you, as one of Our sheep, should try to spread this Word of God as much as you can.  So I’d like to thank a certain sheep of Mine: David.

See, David did a very honorable and important task by going to a blog with a bunch of pussy sheep of Mine and advertised My blog.  At this blog, David posted one of My posts and then defended it.  Fuckin’ a, David; great job!  Sixty underaged virgins await you in Heaven.

My favorite part was when telling one of those pussies:

For example, if you shot yourself right now and died, FaceLift, you would gain immediate entry to God’s presence.

What a great fuckin’ analogy, kid.  That’s superb.

So the rest of you assholes have some catching up to do.  Pick a post, pick a pussy-ass so-called Christian blog, and post away!  And, while you’re at it, say something funny so I can quote you.

In My name, Amen.

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The New Deadly Sins

Okay, so the Vatican (or “The Vat of Filth,” as My Dad and I call it) came out with some new sins. I don’t know if they’re deadly or not, but they are a bunch of crap. They list things like the environment, drugs, genetic manipulation, and a crapload of other bullshit. I have a problem with these people.

lazinesssignFirst of all, they sit there in their mansion, holding their golden chalices, and EAT ME. What the Hell? What right do they have to say others can’t partake in some good ole weed every now and then. After all, My Dad made weed. He didn’t make golden chalices. “Golden chalices don’t grow on trees,” My Dad would tell Me.

Not to mention the whole pedophilia problem Catholicism has. I mean, shit, get your damn priests off of My children, would you? It’s rude to be fucking the little boys before I can. Jesus first, assholes!

And where do they get off (pun not intended) on saying genetic manipulation is a sin? My Dad does that all the time. Makes twins, retards, and brown people. If those aren’t sins, then I don’t see how We wouldn’t allow you guys to do that, too. Hell, you should make more retards; they’re kind of fun to watch running around trying to bite their own ears. If it wasn’t for their entertainment value, We would have aborted them in utero.

So smoke up, make some retards, and shit on your neighbor’s house. It’s all in good fun, and that’s what life is all about.

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Happy Jesus (That’s Me!) Resurrection Day!

Happy Resurrection Day, My faithful sheep! I hope the Easter Bunny shits many money-filled plastic eggs in your yard, blessing you with the spirit of Jesus. Oh, that’s Me. Well there are a few things you might not have known about Easter that I hope to brighten your intellect with. So let’s get started.

First, the Easter Bunny is real. He’s actually a mutant retard after the Chernobyl incident. And before that it was a Hiroshima “victim.” And before that it was just a regular, old retard. The next one in line is Stephen Hawking. If you don’t believe Me that the Easter Bunny is real, I have a picture to prove it.

easter jesus

Take that, unbelieving assholes.

Another myth is that I actually resurrected. Sure, I died on the cross and they put Me in a cave. But when they went in and I wasn’t there, I was actually just hiding in the back of the cave shooting up some heroin. The dumbasses were just too damn lazy to search back in the cave a little further.

The other most prominent myth is that I rose to Heaven. But, again, I must blame it on the heroin: I slipped some in My sheeps’ drinks and played some tricks on them. That included a hippy-inspired, heroin-driven party where I threw my robe into the sky and ran out naked really quickly, making them believe I have risen into Heaven. I actually went to a brothel afterwards and ate a few Easter eggs, if you know what I mean.

So enjoy a day commemorating My drug use and promiscuity. And if you do see the Easter Bunny, don’t touch him or he’ll give you AIDS. I swear.

Peace be with you.

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2 Girls, 1 Chalice

You’re welcome. “For what?” Well, not only for boobs, tacos, and lawnmowing Mexicans, but also for this wonderful idea: 2 girls, 1 chalice. Yes, that’s right: I want you to make a Web site where two girls will take a chalice filled with my peanut-laden dung, and rub it all over their boobies and lick it off of each other. Why? Because apparently you people like that sort of stuff. And so do I.

After all, 2 girls 1 cup is extremely popular, so this would be a great way to spread the Word of My Dad while have some fun poop action. Didn’t you know We like poop? Here’s some evidence via The Dark Bible:

“And thou shalt eat it as barley cakes, and thou shalt bake it with dung that cometh out of man, in their sight. And the LORD said, Even thus shall the children of Israel eat their defiled bread among the Gentiles, whither I will drive them.” (Ezekiel 4:12-13)

That sounds like the best fucking barley cakes ever. What the fuck is barley, anyway? Well apparently it has to do with shit.

“But Rabshakeh said unto them, Hath my master sent me to thy master, and to thee, to speak these words? hath he not sent me to the men which sit on the wall, that they may eat their own dung, and drink their own piss with you?” (II Kings 18:27)

Fuck, that sounds like an awesome meal. I know when I’m hungry and I’m all out of negro babies, I go over to the men against the wall and eat their dung and drink their piss. Mmmm… lemony.

“If ye will not hear, and if ye will not lay it to heart, to give glory unto my name, saith the LORD of hosts, I will even send a curse upon you, and I will curse your blessings: yea, I have cursed them already, because ye do not lay it to heart. Behold, I will corrupt your seed, and spread dung upon your faces, even the dung of your solemn feasts; and one shall take you away with it.” (Malachi 2:2-3)

I like to spread around (pun intended) My fun with feces sometimes by rubbing it on your faces. I usually try to wipe it off by the time you wake up, though.

So, My wonderful sheep, I say unto thee to go and find thy poop and rubbeth it oneth your faces. And eat it. And take this quiz.

In My name, Amen.

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The Pope’s Ruby Red Shoes

Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve posted. But don’t you worry: it isn’t because I’ve lost interest or because I’ve run out of things to write. It’s actually because I hate you. Nawwww, just kidding. I’ve just been stoned, drunk, and sex-crazed lately, and a few prostitutes took Me hostage because I apparently looked like an old pimp of theirs. I managed to persuade them I wasn’t him… …even though I was. SLAM!

Now on with the good shit….

pope red shoesSo apparently the Pope is a woman. Go fucking figure considering he walks around in a robe all day.  He’s only a slightly less attractive Judy Garland, if Judy Garland was an 80 year old walking clitoris spewing bullshit about the poor while living in a mansion, and claiming world peace while his followers are troop-supporting sheep.

And take that cross of your neck, old man.  When I come back from Heaven, I certainly don’t want to see my hole-riddled body on that fucking piece of wood.  I mean, shit, could you be any more offensive to GOD?

And what the fuck is up with his hair?  He looks like that hot chick in There’s Something About Mary.  Only.. you know.. less hot.  And all that stuff I said before about the poor, mansions, and troops.

Thanks, Catholics, for giving Me and My Dad something to laugh about each and every day.  You know, other than the absurdities brought on by brown people and liberals.

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The Perils of Lent

Well it’s either Lent or almost Lent, or, fuck, Lent might even be over by now.  I don’t even know.  Shit, I don’t even care.  But, regardless, Lent is a funny thing.  Millions of Christians, mostly Catholics, give up something as ridiculous as soda or candy for a while.  Why?  To identify with Me and My sacrifice for YOUR SINS.  While those things might be yummy, I don’t think giving up a Snickers bar for a few weeks is equivalent to hanging on a fucking cross, bleeding to death and having My sausage flopping in the wind for all to see.  If you’re one of these pricks, you can follow Vanna’s lead and

eat my taint

You see, I’m a little upset about this.  My sheep are merely giving up things instead of, you know, doing things like helping the poor or helpless.  Or, at the very least, they should be giving Me money.  That helps, too.

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I Love Science from Jesusland

So earlier I was taking a break from creating more retards when I came across this wonderful article about some exciting new research out of Jesusland. Using African women as test subjects, they’re researching the efficacy of a new vaginal gel that could reduce or stop the transfer of HIV. But that’s not why I like the research. For that, you’ll have to read on.

The first reason I love this research is that My beloved sheep in Jesusland are using poor brown people as test subjects. That’s fucking awesome. There’s no better test subjects than the poor, brown, retarded, or gay. In fact, that’s why I made them that way: it’s easier to pick out the ones you hate and marginalize them for your benefit. Now THAT’S intelligent design.

The second reason is because this research made the women do the work. Men hate foreplay, and that’s because it takes too fucking long and pussies taste like fermented shrimp piss. By making women use the gel, men can just force her down and fuck the shit out of her. That’s how sex should be.

AIDSThe third and most important reason I love the research, and you’ll recognize this quickly if you read the article, is because despite the inherent danger from HIV, they actually instituted a placebo gel. So while some women were given the real gel, others were given a substance equivalent to air, protecting them from nothing while their black men jizzed in them. And, even better, while the women thought the gel was working and would (or, at the very least, might) protect them. Yummy deception.

So the next time your woman douches with spermicidal Jello, remember to thank all the nice, fuzzy headed negros who came (no pun intended) before your woman to do the research necessary for your pleasure. Of course, I hope your woman isn’t full of AIDS, because the research was a failure.

…not that I had anything to do with that… ::wink::

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Age Appropriate Sex

There’s a reason My Dad made certain physical milestones to tell you when you’re allowed to have sex.

pubic hair

Of course, as long as the ages of your partners adds up to something respectable, that counts, too.  After all, three 7s make a 21, right?