Red phones; Direct lines; God’s Fast-track

If I was religious, and for religious I mean dogmatic, churchgoing, smiling-backpatting-backstabber-handshaker, you know, one of those that give lip service to God while attending a social club with tax exemptions, and/or make a business of that lip service, I would really, really want to be Pat Robertson’s best friend. The man not only is a genius in marketing, he does have a direct phone line with the Highest… (By the way, I found his secret phone cabin but it is encoded with Pat’s retinal image… Damn!! -oops, sorry God…)

I’d like to say to the good citizens of Dover: If there is a disaster in your area, don’t turn to God; you just rejected him from your city. And don’t wonder why he hasn’t helped you when problems begin, if they begin. I’m not saying they will, but if they do, just remember, you just voted God out of your city. And if that’s the case, don’t ask for his help because he might not be there.

And no, I’m not a atheist.