Hello and you’re welcome. It’s a pleasure to be everywhere, but especially here. Because wherever “here” is for you, I’m also there, which could be anywhere, so watch your butts (because I’m there, too).
Sigmadog was kind enough (“kind” in the sense of a morality that was gained by exposure to an absolute morality that can only come from yours truly and be expressed solely by my believers) to invite me to post my thoughts here on whatever subject strikes my fancy. Though I care little for this primitive communication artifice you call “the internet”, I cannot easily pass up a good opportunity to smite someone, and Sigmadog is ripe for some good ole’ fashion smiting.
Consider this post my way of introducing myself, though you should all know who I am by now. And if you don’t, well, things may get mighty uncomfortable for you eventually. Just sayin’.
Honestly, I was a little reluctant to accept the invitation for another, more philosophical reason. As most of you know, I am immutable (that’s “non-changing” for you Westboro Baptists). This aspect of my nature would seem to prevent me from having any distinct thought at all; because to think is to consider, which implies changing from one thought to another, which is, by definition, a change, and therefore a significant conflict with my immutable nature. That’s a big problem for someone as unchangeable as I. But then I remembered that I’m also omnipotent, and I can do whatever the Hell I please.
So, here I AM (get it?).
As Creator and Sustainer of All That Is, I must confess that being that than which nothing greater can be conceived (that Anselm! What a card!) is not all it’s cracked up to be. Perfection has its drawbacks. The pressure alone is unbelievable. My creations (that means you, Pipsqueak) have high expectations of me. I mean, just think of all the silly meaningless little prayers I have to answer:
- “God, please make there be a parking space.”
- “Please make these lotto numbers be winners.”
- “Please rescue me from the top floor of this burning high-rise.”
- “Lord, please make the beer in the fridge cold.”
Well, that last one is pretty important (speaking of which, sometimes I wish I had taste buds. And a tongue).
Anyway, anxiety about answering prayers was a big problem for me. It would have surely given me ulcers if I had a stomach. But then I realized that it really doesn’t matter whether I answer prayers or not. Believers tend to go on believing in me no matter what I do to them. That was quite a discovery! It made my existence much less complicated. Oh, sure, every once in a while I like to keep hope alive by tossing you a bone. You know, things like putting a face on a piece of cheese, a tortilla, or a urinal stain (that was Peter’s idea - he’s such a freak!). We all get a kick out of your reactions to these “miracles”. Hey, we gotta do something for entertainment up here; eternity would be pretty boring otherwise.
Easing boredom is probably the main reason you may be hearing more from me on this venue from time to time. Or not. No promises. But consider this: I just might make Sigmadog my next prophet, wouldn’t that be ironic? So remember, as you go through your puny, insignificant little lives, I AM watching you poop, so watch your butts (potential t-shirt slogan: “You missed a spot”).
As an aside, I have a request. Can someone please get that narrow-shouldered, rat-faced, mollycoddle TV preacher Joel Osteen to shut up? He’s spreading rumors that I’m short of cash. I’d smite him but the last thing I need is another martyr. Martyrs and Saints! They’re always so full of themselves, like their shit don’t stink. Well, except for St. Anita B. Dookin whose miracle was, literally, that hers didn’t stink. I think there’s a relic of hers in some church in Spain called the El Santo Pepinillo De Mal Olor (translation: The Holy Stink Pickle).
But getting back to the point I wish to make in this, my inaugural (and perhaps last) post on Sigmadog’s blog.
I’ve been hearing a lot of whining from believers. Actually, the whining has been constant since Adam and Eve. She was always complaining about the size of his…what’s the word? Oh yeah. Work ethic. He was a chronic layabout. She was constantly whining about how lazy he was and how he never helped to gather food. In the end we all know how she solved that problem. Big time.
But I digress.
Back to the whining. Yes, lately the whining has grown nearly unbearable. It’s so bad I thought I had tinnitus until I remembered I don’t have ears.
The biggest complaint coming in? You believers seem to think the world has gone crazy solely due to lack of belief in me. That somehow if more people believed, the problems in America would somehow disappear.
Okay. Fine. Let’s run through some of the biggest problems and see which ones belong to me and which ones are of your own making:
- You decided the State was a better teacher for your kids than you, so for years you let Gov’t run it and never paid much attention to what they were teaching your little rugrats, and now your lovely little Jenny is coming home with green hair, popping hormone blockers by the handfull and insisting you call her Jeremy, railing about “The Patriarchy”, and calling 911 to report you for Killing the Planet because you’re 1) cooking on a gas stove, 2) reading by incandescent lightbulbs, 3) not eating enough bugs, or 4) all of the above.
- You allowed the State to take away your rights because you were more afraid of a virus with a 99.8% survival rate for healthy people than you were of losing your Me-given rights, and now you find yourself victim to every conceivable whim of a looming autocracy/kleptocracy/dictatorship.
- You voted year after year for a Chamber of Commerce-financed Uni-Party that loved, with all their cold, black, grifting hearts, the cheap labor provided by illegal aliens and now the country is overrun, the borders no longer exist, and every grifter in government (but I repeat myself) is laughing the laughter of ill-gotten financial killings.
- An appallingly high number of you don’t know basic facts about your country, its government, or its history, but seem to know everything about Lebron James and Taylor Swift; and you wonder why the country is so poorly governed and circling the proverbial drain in History’s Toilet.
I could go on but I’m getting bored.
Face it, you insignificant dimwits, these problems come from YOU. They have nothing to do with me. Of course I could solve them all with a snap of my (non-existent) fingers. But where’s the fun in that?
Nope it’s up to you all to solve your stupid problems. Please leave me out of it, I’m far too busy to spend time worrying about or solving your trifling problems.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m a bit behind schedule. I have a bridge to collapse, illnesses to spread, and some innocent people to kill for no good reason other than because I can.
Until next time, this is your Almighty One And Only Three-In-One, reminding you that…
About the Author
Topdog is Steve Merryman, a retired graphic designer, illustrator, and unrepentant asshole. Steve can usually be found working on a portrait commission or some other artwork. Steve fills his days by painting, writing, shootin' guns, cuttin' trees, hiking with his dogs, and savoring a beer or two, all while searching for the perfect cheeseburger. He studiously avoids social media and is occasionally without pants.