|God Loves Tacos
||[Jan. 20th, 2006|02:18 am]
Make Every Miles Davis Count
God talked to me in the snow tonight. He/she gave me a little understanding, a little pain and confusion, and a little love. God said that I have the power to do anything.|
So I asked him/her, "then why can't I do anything?"
He/she answered me, "thou art God. Creation wasn't, but creating is." But that was a stupid answer, so he/she added, "LOL."
So God and I kicked it, doing online surveys and stuff. If God were a character in Star Wars, he/she'd be Chewbacca. If God were a vegatable, a psycilicybin mushroom. A flower, cannibis sativa. Then God showed me some of the hate mail fundamentalists send to him/her. "Dear God: I hate things. I hate this and that. I hate people who refuse to hate things with me." God just shook his/her head. "They all think they're victims of circumstance, that the deck of life is really stacked againt them. But it's a tarot deck, fate doesn't ascribe, it describes what they have chosen to be."
I looked at God, who looked dissapointed, and I wondered how to react. So God confided in me, "wanta hear the punchline? The lady who wrote that is obese, and her body is going to kill itself with cancer." We looked at each other for a split second, then busted out laughing. "AH-AHAHAHAHAHAA!!!! Cancer!" And with a teary-eyed wink he/she told me that all that lady had to do was believe in life, believe in herself, and she would have been happy and strong. But instead she believed in God, so she grew weak and got cancer. It was a pretty good punchline.
Then we went to get tacos. God couldn't stop giggling because he/she kept thinking of "pink tacos." I mentioned sticking a hot dog in the taco shell and we were rolling on the floor. The Dairy Queen staff almost kicked us out, but God is a really good tipper. Then we went bowling, and bitched about how the only beer on tap was Coors. God hates Coors. But we drank it. God won the game 255 to 190. Unfortunately, he/she left before I got to ask any real serious questions.