I was talking to God the other day and He told me I should write a diary to set the record straight about Him and Pat Robertson. The fact of the matter is, there is no “Him and Pat Robertson,” because God told me that he “never talked to that crazy sombitch” in His life.
I, on the other hand, do have conversations with God. Granted, they tend to be one-sided, but that’s understandable considering He’s God and all. He has an entire universe of things to talk about, and even though He’ll prattle on sometimes, most of what He has to say is interesting. I don’t mind listening so much.
"Give me more, big boy."
Keep in mind, I’m writing this from memory, because God doesn’t like to be recorded. Therefore, most of what I’ll write is paraphrased snippets of our conversation. I’ll still be using parentheses, albeit improperly, so please remember these are paraphrases and not direct quotes.
Our conversation began just about like any other. My cell phone rang. I answered “Hello.” God said, “What up, G?” And I said, “You da G! What up God?” He said, “Me.” Then we laughed.
Things got serious pretty quickly, though. God asked me if I had heard about Pat Robertson’s comments and I said yes. Then I asked if it was really going to happen and He said He didn’t know. “I’m not a micromanager or anything,” He added. I told Him that I could live with that. But He wanted to make sure I knew that He never said anything to Pat. “Why would I talk to that loon?” God asked. He continued, “I’ve got a whole universe out here and you think I’m going to waste my time talking with that dick bag?” I told Him that I supposed He wouldn’t.
“Do you know anything about Robertson?” asked God. I told Him I knew a little. “Sit down then,” He told me.
I’m not sure how long I sat there listening to God. I was kind of mesmerized, to be honest. But he told me some pretty blood curdling details about Pat’s life. Here are a few of the juicier tidbits from God:
> Pat Robertson is a frequent masturbator who has worn out dozens of tweezers.
> Pat Robertson eats dogs. “His favorite desert is chocolate lab.”
> Pat Robertson once gave up on dialing long distance, because “he couldn’t find the parentheses.”
> He believes people “should have a security clearance to read classified ads.”
> Robertson’s anus is “big enough to accommodate a trashcan.”
> “Pat Robertson really is a douche bag.”
> Pat is to religion, what “Adolph Hitler is to human rights.”
> “He eats his own poop, for my son’s sake!”
> Pat Robertson once “made out with his own mother and said, ‘Wow, you kiss better than dad!’”
> Apparently he “fucks goats, but not sheep.”
> Also, he’s got a fistula that “I gave him for Christmas one year.”
> Finally, God also said, “When I hear Robertson talk, it reminds me of when I gave Balaam’s ass the power of speech.
There’s lots more, but I tend to zone out sometimes when I talk to God. He did say, however, that we didn’t have anything to worry about in 2007. “Look out in 2008, though!”