“So, what did you think of that Jez?” Johnny asked his wife.
“Like he said, he was hearing voices; he was even willing to kill his own son. Do you think he was maybe schizophrenic,” she replied.
“Well he seems to have all the symptoms – failure to distinguish what’s real, false beliefs and hallucinations,” said Johnny. “Anyway, let’s get our next guest out.”
Moses shuffles into the studio and sits down on the sofa next Jezebel. “Who is that guy in the green room? He sure likes the sound of his own voice – and man, he thinks he’s god’s gift to women.” Continue reading
Good news: we can expect the Chilcott report into the Iraq War to be published in a few months – all two million words of it. We’ll find out why it was such a big mistake to believe the lies of the establishment in their efforts to convince us that it was a good idea to bomb Bagdad. Maybe it will be published in time for Chicott to start on a new report which will suggest that it wasn’t such a good idea to carpet-bomb Syria after all.
Of course we all agree that Isis are barbaric medieval scum who would behead their own offspring if they didn’t bow down to their stone-age ideology. What are we waiting for? Let’s just bomb the bastards. Our great leader: the fearless Cameron; must be apopleptic to see that fucking great French poof, Hollande, stealing all the glory. Yes, let’s bomb them: they must be easy enough to find – surely they are all in a big field in the Syrian countryside, with a huge cross – marked bomb here.
“What became of Lot and his daughters?”
“They made their way to the hills and dwelt in a cave.” (Abraham looks nervously over at God in the green room and mumbles something).
“Speak up Abe, it’s okay, he can’t hear you,” says Johnny.
“Well, the story goes that his daughters made him drink wine, got him so pissed that he didn’t know what he was doing, and lay with him and took his seed; the elder one night and the younger the next.” Continue reading
Let’s imagine for a moment, that we could get God to tell us what his big picture is all about. We would have to tempt him somehow, set a trap for him, appeal to his huge ego. Let’s tell Mr. Nasty we want him to appear on the Celestial Celebrity chat show. We could lure him with the promise of hanging out with some teenage virgins: one or two who look a bit like little Mary of Nazareth should do the trick. We could put his adventures to him and see if he would reflect on them for us. Continue reading