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Boy, what ever happened to the separation of church and hate? Everybody take it easy. I'm pretty sure God's registered as an independent.
Now I don't want to get off on a rant here, but it's amazing how, in an election year, God's name gets thrown around like the drunken dwarf at a biker rally. Personally, when I try to picture what God looks like, I always see some guy wearing a white robe and frantically working a huge panel of switches and knobs while answering prayers like a hopped-up Larry King taking phone calls. Columbia, South Carolina, go ahead--how many times do I have to tell you, take that Goddamn flag down. Now!

Every religion has its own concept of God, and every religion is wrong. They have to be. We're talking about the ultimate totality here, and no one creed can have absolute dominion over its definition. Man, I wish I'd said that sophomore year when I was trying to do Brenda Wilkins. I had Dark Side Of The Moon playing, we were splitting a bottle of Mateus, talking existentialism. If I had this pseudo-philosophical [bleep!] down back then, I would have gotten laid like Mothra's egg.

Western religions tend to imagine God as either a burning bush or Wilford Brimley with a beard and dreadlocks. In the East, you get a little more leeway: one God is a bare-breasted woman with six arms, another is a man with the head of an elephant. There is no doubt in my mind as to who has the better weed.

What happens to gods when people cease to worship them? Do they sit lonely on Mount Olympus wondering what the [bleep!] Harry Hamlin was doing in Clash Of The Titans, or do they simply fade away? Or do they instead descend to earth and take jobs as wisecracking hosts of live late-night cable talk shows? Whoops, I've saideth too much.

The concept of God lets us imagine there's something more, that when you die you stumble out of this demented funhouse and there's someone there to explain what the hell you just went through, like the epilogue on a Quinn Martin show. That's all I want--I want everything clarified, you hear me Lord? Everything. I want a perfectly logical reason for all the wars, shootings, tortures, rapes, murders, cruelty and pain. And when You're done with that, can you please explain the frogs in MAGNOLIA to me?

You know what else I've realized about God? Even though Jesus once admonished, "Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's," God and commerce do frequently overlap. Did you ever notice the phrase "In God We Trust" only appears on the lesser denominations of our currency? You get up around the \$1000 bill, and it just says "God, I Think I Can Take It From Here."

I don't think there's any doubt that people often yell, "Oh God" during sex because He wants to be appreciated for his best invention. If you don't shout His name when smelling a rose, well, that's OK. Not really bowled over by the sight of a glorious sunset? Fair enough. But if you don't give Him props for orgasms that make your toes curl like frying bacon, well, you're about to feel the awesome wrath of the Almighty's lightning-bolt enema.

Yes, some of God's handiwork is flawed. There are rivers that overflow, volcanoes that aren't quite sealed and tectonic plates that tend to crack over time. But isn't it comforting to know that even God has trouble finding a reliable contractor?

And for someone who is so great and all-powerful, Yahweh's got an awful lot of people talking for him these days, doesn't he? God's got more phonies claiming to know His will than Howard Hughes. Jerry Falwell says homosexuality and abortion are sins. Yeah, well, so is gluttony, Jerry. So why don't you drop about 50 or so and then talk to me about what people should or shouldn't be doing with their bodies. OK?

Don't get me wrong. People are certainly entitled to worship as they see fit, but don't go using God as a convenient template for your petty, bigoted views. If you want to ban interracial dating at your college because your father once caught you masturbating to a picture of Pam Grier and punished you by making you paint the house, and now every time you smell wet DuPont Latex Exterior it makes you think of Foxy Brown and you get all confused and horny and humiliated at the same time, and you want to make someone pay, just [bleep!] say so. Don't put it on God, OK Jonesy?

Of course, that's just my opinion, I could be wrong.


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