Long ago, while your little sperm-spirits still swam in my big banger, Satan, my charming wife, was lonely and bored—even though she was married to God. What was I to do? I desperately searched for poets, slaves and worshippers. Finding none, I bawled. Do you think my wife comforted Me? Not a chance! That pitiless beast laughed and said some nonsense about Me having the power to create good children.
“Oh, really?” I replied like a genuine know-it-all. “Have you ever tried creating life from nothing—nothing but this?” I grumbled as I swept a hand over my body. “I don’t even know where to start!”
She reclined on the bed. “Have you ever visited the amazing cosmic-universal vagina?”
“What? Me? Well, of course I have!” I lied and thought, “She’s joking. No such thing exists.”
She whispered, “Good. Now, let’s do the pro-creative deed and build a home for our children.”
I nodded with fake confidence. I had never done anything creative with anyone, and since I never trust a woman to do anything right, I left her with a guardian angel. Then, in a private place, I grabbed my big banger and tried to build a home from nothing. My frantic banging filled the universe with painful music, but no home. Well, in my defense, it was my first time building anything.
Of course, I patiently persisted, and while I struggled, Satan grew fatter and fatter. One day, Satan told Me that she had finished building the foundation. She squatted, spread her ugly legs and laid a pile of boiling magma.
“What the Hell is that?” I asked.
“It’s an egg, you fool!”
“Oh.”
“That’s a joke. It’s the planet Earthome. Now, if you do your job, it will be a fine home for any child. Do you know what your job is?”
“Of course!” I lied and wandered away wondering what a god is supposed to do with a blasted planet. So, I put pretty lights around it in the hope that one day my children living in Earthome would look up at my beautiful face and worship Me. Of course, I had one problem: my children didn’t exist and I didn’t know the magic spells that make them. I looked at my wife for clues, but she feigned ignorance, and when I pestered her for help one of my angels showed Me how to masturbate.
I wasn’t offended. Being God, I do everything alone. And I’m a real perfectionist. At first, I was no good at masturbating, but after millions of years I got it down to a real art, and just as a cracked, pretty clay shell formed over Earthome’s pulsating mass of magma, I ejaculated a great stream of radioactive dust, salty water and nasty microbes all over it.
“Good job!” said my wife as she stirred the nasty ingredients and radiated her evil energy upon them. “At this rate, in another millions years our first children will have a wonderful home.”
She was right. My magical ingredients slowly evolved into trillions of children. Strangely, none of them looked particularly like Me. In fact, just by looking at them I grouped them into these distinct tribes: the wigglies, the woodies, the worms, the mollusks, the arthropods, the fish, the reptiles and others too numerous to name. I was extremely proud. I imagined a great future for our family, but that was wishful thinking! Those ignorant scoundrels refused to thank, work for, and worship their God and father! They wouldn’t even acknowledge my existence! I shook a reproving finger at them and angrily hissed, “How many more times must the Sun orbit your home before you thank Me for all I’ve done for you?”
Do you know what they did? They ignored Me and snuggled closer to their mother! I warned them about the dangers. I spent a few million years talking to them about their behavior, and during that time the Earthome cooled and grandchildren were born with feathers and later fur and warm blood. But my grandchildren were just as foolish as my children, and the worst ones were the great apes; they were genuinely stupid, for they worshipped their alpha males instead of Me!
One day I sat down and asked those hairy idiots, “Why don’t you recognize your father and ask to be my immortal slaves in Heaven?”
They refused to answer in my language, so I gave them the gift of speech. Well, I quickly regretted that favor. No sooner could they speak than they shouted, “Thanks, you old moron! Now we can insult you night and day and blame you for not giving us the brains we need to respect you!”
Can you believe such disrespect? Imagine blaming a parent for your bad behavior! Someone had to teach them a powerful lesson! So, one day I ate all their food. Then they understood, apologized, and said, “Oh grandpa, we surrender! We promise to be your slaves if you give us feet to run with.”
Being infinitely generous, I gave them human feet, but I quickly regretted my generosity. Thinking they could escape from Me, they fled the jungle and hid on a dangerous savannah! Of course, I followed them and told them to keep their promise. Why did I bother? They declared themselves free from tyrants and invented axes, cut down the trees and made fires and spears and dared Me to come near.
One night, while they slept, I entered their homes and gave them fleas. Revenge was sweet, but would have been sweeter with food in my belly, so the next night I returned and roared. They looked at Me, feigned fear and cried, “Oh ferocious nothingness, oh mighty ghost who prowls upon the savannah, are you going to bite us?”
I leapt and bit down on a dozen mockers and chewed their bones until they … laughed. God has no teeth! They laughed so hard I tried to strangle them, but their throats were covered with cartilage that felt too disgusting to touch.
“Oh grandpa, why don’t you kill yourself instead?”
“I wish I could, but I’m immortal!”
“Doesn’t life suck?” they taunted.
“I’ll teach you how much it sucks!”
One by one I grabbed them by the hair of their heads and sucked their bodies hard. They should have died; instead, their bodies straightened, their hair was mostly removed, their nostrils stretched into noses, and salty water came out of their skins. The worst thing was that they thought their new bodies made them more beautiful than any other creature, God included.
I was determined to teach them to be nice to Me, so I punished them with plagues of cold weather, war and famine, but just when their population began dwindling, Satan chose her favorite tribes, turned them into sex maniacs and taught them how to make love for hours. I wasn’t jealous. Not Me! I only pitied their stupidity and cursed them with women who could not cook, but that made no difference. Somehow, they still loved their damn women more than Me, and they reproduced like rabbits!
I desperately needed help. So, I sent my fiercest angels to beat the crap out of them, but you’ll never believe what happened next! My angels fell in love with them. Oh, they had quite a honeymoon with lots of cuddling and snuggling and kissing before the inevitable fighting began. Then, conversations devolved into racist arguments and my pet angels were massacred. The murderers celebrated. It was quite a party until they resumed dying like flies from diseases, lice, hunger, war and divine disasters. Life was so bad, they considered praying for help and respecting Me, but suddenly everything changed. They stopped caring about death and suffering. Do you know what their secret was? That’s right, they invented some damn thing called religion! Those liars believed they were immortal beings destined for a better world—even though they had no evidence!
Well, let them have their religion, I thought, it will only make my job more interesting. So, one day I drew this pictograph on their favorite cliffs and cave walls: “When you’re tired of suffering, come to Amerika, land of dreams, and while you are there work for Me, shop for Me, and follow my commands. Do this and you will be in Heaven.”
The geniuses deciphered my message, discussed it, and then danced and banged their drums and shouted, “Father, we’ll do whatever you want, but only after you eat mud, grow bananas from your face, make us giggle with your genitals, and make music with your ass!”
I guess those comedians didn’t know who they were insulting. So, to teach who I was and how life works, I struck them with a drought and another ice age. The smartest ones fled north, out of Africa, to look for the promised land of Amerika in the dark, cold regions of Eurasia. But there they found no food except my pet mammoth and other four-footed giants that could kill a man with their fearsome genitalia. Wise men would have hid underground, but do you think they were afraid of pain or death? Thanks to their religion, they ignored the threat of death and learned to hunt and eat the most dangerous meat, and they hunted and ate so well that their food became extinct.
Around this time, as hunger and cold loomed, a few hunters noticed their dark brown skins and black hair had magically turned white and blonde, and they imagined they were now gods like Me! I was embarrassed to even look at them, so imagine how insulted I felt. Well, I thought, a teacher’s work is never done, so I planned my final lesson and delivered it.
“My beautiful child-gods, your religion is correct. You deserve to live in a better place than Europe. To find it, just follow the Sun across the sea until you reach Amerika, land of the gods.”
They cheered and started to prepare for their voyage to Heaven! They cut down more trees, tied and glued a few together, and threw their lives onto the ocean. I was sure they’d drown, but damn it, a few washed up on Britain’s shores and conveniently declared, “Hoorah! We discovered Amerika! Here we can walk, hop and follow our leader on the path to eternal happiness! Hoorah!”
Then they waited for their leader to come. I let them suffer for a few centuries before I came to them in the form of the greatest leader to ever live, the great alpha male King Arthur. I taught them how to live with women and how to kill their enemies. At my command they conquered Rome, Persia, Russia and all the peoples of the world, and they cut down the forests and created pigs, cows, and vast fields of edible grass and bird seed.
Well, life was tolerable in God’s kingdom, but they were not yet in Amerika, the land of God’s freedom, so happiness was scarce, and as life worsened they accused God of having misled them. King Arthur explained, “Stop whining you wimps! If you want eternal happiness, you must get to work and create Amerika right here!”
The people cheered. Their king put the best British minds to the task. But all our hopes were dashed, for the best Britons were not clever enough by half.
Exhausted by my endless efforts, I begged my dearest queen for help and relief. She smiled, put my head on her warm bosom and sang a soothing lullaby. I shut my eyes and dozed and dreamed about a better life in Amerika.