God's Blog #1 What's In A Name
by Ian R Thorpe
4 September August 2009
Hello, God here. Am I getting through to any of you? I just don't know where some people get their ideas from.
One recent prayer accused me of being a miserable old bastard who only ever laughs when he is smiting someone. You are getting me mixed up with the God of Abraham; you know, the one who doesn't allow dancing. His followers are afraid to have a knee trembler in case he thinks they are dancing I'm told.
Obviousdly a few things need clearing up so I though I would get one of these blogs as it seems a good way of reaching a few of you. Let's start at the beginning. You probably expect me to say that I am the one true God and you shall have no other Gods but me. That's nonsense. There are lots of Gods, most of them are the true God, in fact most of them are me.
The confusion comes about because of that effing book. All the way through it talks about the one true God, and yet there are three in it, two of us real and one a phoney. There is the God of Creation. He hasn't been around for a long time, some people say he is dead but I think he is on the other side of the universe creating new worlds as we speak.
Then there is the bloke with the fuck off beard who turns up in all the pictures, you do not want to get mixed up with him, he's a nutter. He hates women and wants you to think you were only created to kiss his arse. Then there is me, the Oneness, the Force, the Great Spirit, and I'm a nice guy, tolerant, forgiving, I enjoy music, dancing, good food, literature, art, the Jerry Springer show (but only to see how many crazy ways pentecostalists can find to insult me) and hanging around with pretty females. I like the greek goddesses best, that Aphrodite is a real hottie, I love the way Hebe handles those peacocks, Athena is great if you like a bit of intellect with your glamour, sort of Ann Coulter with wings, and Hera, well Hera is a proper lady.
The Norse girls are fun too but the Celts are a bit firey, especially Morrigan and she always has her hounds of hell following her around. My favourite though is that Hindu girl with six arms. Boy does she know some great tricks.
So there, you can go with the God of Abraham who was invented by men to keep women in order and who forbids everything except glorifying him, or you can stick with me and do more or less anything so long as you are not mean and spiteful and selfish and so long as you are willing to offer a helping hand to people who need it. See I might be a tolerant god but that's mostly because I don't care what you do. Do what you like, its your conscience you have to live with. Just don't come crying to me if somebody does back to you all the nasty stuff you've done to others. I don't give a shite OK. And don't tell people you're acting on my behalf. I don't let anybody act on my behalf. I will no more ask you to do weird things like sacrificing your firstborn son to prove you love me than a reputable bank wil send you an e-mail asking you to enter your account number and password for an online security check.
What's that? Not fair coz I'm supposed to e there for you, your help in ages past, your hope for years to come. Feck off! I never made any deal like that. Don't feck me about and I won't smite you, that's the only deal I offer.
If you decide to follow me, don't go around doing things in my name please, that is just trying to get everyone to like you and think you are a good person and so it is selfish. When you do something do it because it is the right thing to do, or the best that you can do in the circumstances. What is hard to understand about that?
People have trouble with my name. For some reason they think there is a problem about saying it. Well I don't actually have a name, you see this is where priests go wrong. They say "tell us your name O Lord," I answer "can't, haven't got one" And they go off thinking there is something awesome about my name, like you will be struck dead if you mention it. But being infinite and eternal you see, I have no parents (awww - go on, say aww, you would if I was a puppy in a Disney cartoon,) so nobody ever gave me a name. You can call me whatever you like, although there is no need to go silly with something like Qzlkzxlczxtl or Chimminychingapatam, Fred or Sam will do nicely. Overcomplicating me does not get you any brownie points you know.
So we've sorted that I don't care what you do but I don't approve of a lot of it either. I'm indifferent, that all. It's a bummer OK, but who thinks I've got time to be chasing six billion people around wiping their arses for them. Don't come along saying Oh Dagda, you have to help us, life is so hard. Yeah, life is hard. Tough, deal with it. And don't go swallowing that sentimental shite you are fed by preachers, stuff like: there is more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over a lot of righteous souls. So how much rejoicing is there exactly. I'll tell you. Last week a sinner repented. I was so happy I did not know whether to shit or go blind! Now you know. I don't fecking care, alright.
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