Stalin talks to God, again
Stalin: Hello?
God: Hi Stalin, it's Me.
Stalin: God! So good to hear from You! What the hell have You been up to? Are You calling about that Robertson thing?
God: Oh, dear Me, no; though I have to say I'm starting to think My P.R. department is right, and I should just strike that unctuous douchebag with leprosy. I'm starting to get worried about My press, truth be told. He's not helping, obviously.
Stalin: I see; You have been acting out a bit over the last few months, to be frank.
God: Yeah, I really should see a therapist like my kid always tells me to; he's still hung up about that whole crucifixion thing, but just between you and me, that's no reason to treat His Mom like He does and to be hanging out with that hooker Mary Magdalene or his fag buddy Saint John all the livelong day.
Stalin: Gee, that's not very tolerant of You, God.
God: Stalin, you don't have to live with that damn skank. When you get here, you can form an opinion, but right now, just trust me. And that John guy seems not to realize that yes, I do see everything, including his massive stash of porn. I'm kind of like Bush that way, you know.
Stalin: Speaking of which, when are You finally going to stop punishing this country like You have been? Forget about the hurricanes, I'm talking about our so-called government. Can't You do something? A nice little earthquake in D.C.?
God: Stalin, you know I don't control them - talk to Satan if you're concerned about them.
Stalin: I tried that, but I always get Grover Norquist instead whenever I call. And for some reason, Grover doesn't like me.
God: That's because nobody likes him, either, disgusting little pervert that he is. But anyway, I'm actually calling to congratulate you about getting married...
Stalin: Oh, thank you! You're so attentive!
God: .. and to clarify a few things. I suppose you saw the Osama story?
Stalin: Yes, and nobody in the media seems to be able to connect the dots that this guy is still out there because of Dickwad Cheney and his assboy, but hey, what do you want, this is America, so basic intelligence isn't what you expect from people.
God (chuckling): Now, now. Not that you're wrong in principle, but that's not very kind.
Stalin (snarling): Like I always say, it's not mean if it's true. But anyway, what about Osama? I suppose he's not one of Yours?
God: Of course not; after that unfortunate experience with Moses, I've stopped relying on people who fuck domestic animals. No, Osama's on you-know-who's payroll, along with, how did you put it, "Dickwad's assboy". But the reason I'm calling is to give you a little heads-up. You're still in New York, right?
Stalin: Of course. What else is there?
God: You see, the problem is that Osama says the same thing. So when he says he's going to strike in America, you can guess where he's going to do that, no?
Stalin (chuckling): What, he's not going to go after the Wal-Mart in Dead Horse Junction, Nebraska?
God: No, smartass, he's not.
Stalin: Lord, here's my take, and it hasn't changed since 9/11: Osama's goal is to strike terror into this country. Unfortunately, he's succeeded all too well with the Bush crowd; you'd think with all their chest-beating, they might manage to offer up a little manliness, but no, that's just not what they do. Instead, they hear the word "Osama", and behold: they shit themselves and start running for the exits. Personally, I'd be embarassed to start screeching hysterically over some Mid-Eastern goatherd, let alone in public, but the threshhold for being embarassed with that crowd is mere microns above the floor, at the best of times.
God: That said, you realize you're sitting ducks in New York, right?
Stalin: Not true. See, New York City isn't run by an incompetent horsefucker like FEMA was; our people actually know what they're doing. Thing is, something is going to happen sooner or later - that's just what happens when the guy in charge has less brains than Paris Hilton.
God: So you're not worried?
Stalin: Oh, I'm worried all right. We're worried every time we get on the subway, for crying out loud. But what are we going to do about it? Run like little girls? Sorry, that's for righties. There's a reason New Yorkers don't vote for that bunch of cowards.
God: OK, have it your way. I'm just saying that now might be a good time to travel to a red state.
Stalin: Yech! If the choices are Utah or getting my fins blown off in a terror attack on Fifth Avenue, honestly, I'll go with the latter.
God: That's the spirit. I'll let you go now. I love you, Stalin.
Stalin: I love You too, God.
God: Hi Stalin, it's Me.
Stalin: God! So good to hear from You! What the hell have You been up to? Are You calling about that Robertson thing?
God: Oh, dear Me, no; though I have to say I'm starting to think My P.R. department is right, and I should just strike that unctuous douchebag with leprosy. I'm starting to get worried about My press, truth be told. He's not helping, obviously.
Stalin: I see; You have been acting out a bit over the last few months, to be frank.
God: Yeah, I really should see a therapist like my kid always tells me to; he's still hung up about that whole crucifixion thing, but just between you and me, that's no reason to treat His Mom like He does and to be hanging out with that hooker Mary Magdalene or his fag buddy Saint John all the livelong day.
Stalin: Gee, that's not very tolerant of You, God.
God: Stalin, you don't have to live with that damn skank. When you get here, you can form an opinion, but right now, just trust me. And that John guy seems not to realize that yes, I do see everything, including his massive stash of porn. I'm kind of like Bush that way, you know.
Stalin: Speaking of which, when are You finally going to stop punishing this country like You have been? Forget about the hurricanes, I'm talking about our so-called government. Can't You do something? A nice little earthquake in D.C.?
God: Stalin, you know I don't control them - talk to Satan if you're concerned about them.
Stalin: I tried that, but I always get Grover Norquist instead whenever I call. And for some reason, Grover doesn't like me.
God: That's because nobody likes him, either, disgusting little pervert that he is. But anyway, I'm actually calling to congratulate you about getting married...
Stalin: Oh, thank you! You're so attentive!
God: .. and to clarify a few things. I suppose you saw the Osama story?
Stalin: Yes, and nobody in the media seems to be able to connect the dots that this guy is still out there because of Dickwad Cheney and his assboy, but hey, what do you want, this is America, so basic intelligence isn't what you expect from people.
God (chuckling): Now, now. Not that you're wrong in principle, but that's not very kind.
Stalin (snarling): Like I always say, it's not mean if it's true. But anyway, what about Osama? I suppose he's not one of Yours?
God: Of course not; after that unfortunate experience with Moses, I've stopped relying on people who fuck domestic animals. No, Osama's on you-know-who's payroll, along with, how did you put it, "Dickwad's assboy". But the reason I'm calling is to give you a little heads-up. You're still in New York, right?
Stalin: Of course. What else is there?
God: You see, the problem is that Osama says the same thing. So when he says he's going to strike in America, you can guess where he's going to do that, no?
Stalin (chuckling): What, he's not going to go after the Wal-Mart in Dead Horse Junction, Nebraska?
God: No, smartass, he's not.
Stalin: Lord, here's my take, and it hasn't changed since 9/11: Osama's goal is to strike terror into this country. Unfortunately, he's succeeded all too well with the Bush crowd; you'd think with all their chest-beating, they might manage to offer up a little manliness, but no, that's just not what they do. Instead, they hear the word "Osama", and behold: they shit themselves and start running for the exits. Personally, I'd be embarassed to start screeching hysterically over some Mid-Eastern goatherd, let alone in public, but the threshhold for being embarassed with that crowd is mere microns above the floor, at the best of times.
God: That said, you realize you're sitting ducks in New York, right?
Stalin: Not true. See, New York City isn't run by an incompetent horsefucker like FEMA was; our people actually know what they're doing. Thing is, something is going to happen sooner or later - that's just what happens when the guy in charge has less brains than Paris Hilton.
God: So you're not worried?
Stalin: Oh, I'm worried all right. We're worried every time we get on the subway, for crying out loud. But what are we going to do about it? Run like little girls? Sorry, that's for righties. There's a reason New Yorkers don't vote for that bunch of cowards.
God: OK, have it your way. I'm just saying that now might be a good time to travel to a red state.
Stalin: Yech! If the choices are Utah or getting my fins blown off in a terror attack on Fifth Avenue, honestly, I'll go with the latter.
God: That's the spirit. I'll let you go now. I love you, Stalin.
Stalin: I love You too, God.
posted by Michael at 7:11 PM
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