Are you there God? It's me, Dubya.

[Neoma]

(satire, kinda old)

Come in, Almighty. Do you read me?

It's about 8:00 pm and it's just after my last bubble bath of the day and here I am again, kneeling here in the Oval Office all by myself in my most favoritest PJs, the funny ones with the little M-1 tanks and baseball players all over them. I gots some problems, Lord.

Look, I've done everything you asked. I've been good. Haven't I?

I take the message to the people, don't I? I spout that evangelical born-again crap in pisswater Podunk conservative churches across this burned-out fear-drunk nation like I was emceeing a freakin' rodeo in Crawford. And they eat it up, Lord. They eat that stuff up. Hell, I even believe a lot of that fire-breathin' Second Comin' evildoer-hatin' stuff myself.

And looky here! Look how much dough I induce those evangelical suckers to cough up into the coffers of the GOP (that's God's Own Party -- just for you, Lord!). Doesn't that cut me a little slack fer when I skip over the part where Jesus says "Blessed are the peacemakers?"

Or when he says to turn the other cheek? Or love thy enemies? Or when the Bible says, "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control"? Or any of that other pointless pacifist hippie junk?

I mean, forgive me 'cuz I know your boy Jesus was great and all, but did he have the Carlyle Group breathing down his neck, screaming for more war profits? Did he have a million neat-o bombs at his instant disposal? Did he have Rummy scowling down his hawkish nose at him during naptime? No, he did not.

Look. I behave. I never have sex and I hate that sicko porno gay pagan naked sexual stuff, and to this day I'm damn proud that those disgustin' dildo thingies are still illegal in Texas.

Heck, I even want to change the freakin' U.S. Constitution to prevent them icky gays from ever gettin' legally married and thus soiling the precious institution of uptight heterosexual man-woman Christian marriage counseling. I want to codify right-wing homophobia, Lord! Don't that count for somethin'?

Hell, I'm a former raging alcoholic who stopped binge drinking years ago (I attributed it to you! Remember?) 'cuz I got so drunk I fell into a fever dream wherein I coulda swore I saw Jesus chattin' with Buddha and Shiva and Allah and Isis, and they was all sighing and shaking their heads and agreein' to send me back in the next life as a smelly tree fungus. And that can't be good.

Remember, Lord, back in the '00 debates when they asked me to name my favorite philosopher, and I said, "Jesus"? Remember how cheesy and obnoxious and cop-outy that was, given how Jesus was actually the Original Liberal and given how everyone knows I haven't read a single "real" philosopher of any note since they made me stand up in Philosophy 1A back at Yale and read a passage from that pagan homo Plato guy when I could barely focus due to all the gin? Wasn't that good?

We bombed them nasty Iraqis in Your name, Lord! Afghanis, too! Hell, I've even gone so far as to tell anyone who'll listen that it was your very will that we invade those countries, that you were pretty much speaking to me, through me, when I told General Whatshisname to go ahead and bomb the living crap outta them evil evildoers and never you mind the women and babies you just git me some war on terror, beeyatch! Whoops, sorry.

Oh, I know what them liberals say, that your son Jesus Christ was a card-carrying pacifist, hated war and hated bloodletting and hated hate. But damn, your boy certainly didn't know about the price of crude, you know? I mean, a Christian's gotta do what a Christian's gotta do to fuel up the SUV and keep the Saudis happy and keep the Lockheed stock from steppin' in a financial cow pie, am I right, Lord? Can I get a "Hell yeah"? Whoops, sorry again.

Lord, I just don't understand. I know I'm not much of a businessman, or a leader, or a public speaker, or a humanitarian, or a foreign-policy expert, or a lover of nuance, or a deep thinker, or much of anything positive or life affirming that anyone can name, really. But I'm a darned nice guy. A "decent man." This is what everyone says. And I thought we had a deal.

I thought we had an understanding that if I took my narrow hypocritical bloody misinterpretations of the Good Book's teachings and spread them all over this planet like Johnny Ashcroft annoints himself in Crisco every night, I thought if I mocked the separation of church and state at every turn and brought a twisted version of your Word to the huddled masses who weren't blessed enough to be in me and my daddy's tax bracket, you'd sorta, you know, help me out a little.

Like, maybe you'd finally get this ugly Iraq quagmire thing taken care of for me. Maybe get those scary godless Islamic peoples to see the born-again light. And maybe in the process guarantee me a first-class seat on the glory train to salvation? Or at least a friggin' second term?

Hello? Lord? You still there? God's Own Party, remember? We're all about you, baby. Except for the blood and the tortures and the warmongering and the homophobia and the misogyny and the raping of Your glorious planet on a daily basis. Besides that, you rock!

So, again, before I rush off to bed so Laura can read me another page of "Goodnight Moon," I just gotta ask: What gives, Sir? I pray every night that you'll smite my enemies and hold back the heathen liberals and Democrats and also them idiot environmentalists, the ones who want to protect the forests and clean up the air and save the freakin' whales, when, hellfire, I ain't seen a whale here in D.C. since Teddy Kennedy cannonballed in Senator Leahy's pool. Haw! See? I still got my God-given sense o' humor! People love that hokey Texas crap! Bless me, Jesus!

But nothing seems to be working anymore. S'cuze my French, Lord, but dammit, why you lettin' that cheap Catholic wanna-be Kerry hone in on me? Why is that commie Michael Moore's 9/11 movie so damn successful, despite all of Uncle **edit**'s promises that the party would shut it down? Why is my "easy" little war only getting worse, and bloodier, and more confusing, and why is it giving me rashy itches in my nether parts? Why are my approval ratings slipping down lower'n a altar boy's pants in a Catholic rectory?

Don't you approve of my religious zealotry? Of how we slam Islam every day? Didn't you like it when I let Gen. William Boykin say, when talkin' about hammering them nasty Iraqis, that "my God is much bigger than their Allah," and it got splashed all over the Arab media? Two million Muslims hate me like a cancer, Lord! If that don't get me some bonus points in your book, I don't know what does.

And yet you're still lettin' scandal after scandal stain my pure, holy name. Rummy and his rape and torture, Wolfie and his Chalabi, Cheney and his Halliburton, Ashcroft and his Guantánamo Bay, Powell and his vial of anthrax, Rove and his very existence. Why, it's a gul-dang rogue's gallery of beady-eyed mean-ass misprision! Hey! Check it out! I said a neat word! Misprision! I wish I knew what it meant.

You hafta save me, Lord. You have to pump up my poll ratings, get the damned liberal media off my back (but not Fox News! Never them), make the people believe again.

See, they're not falling for the fear crap quite so much anymore. The bogus Orange Alerts and terror warnings ain't having the same effect. They're seein' through the dumb-guy schtick. They ain't buying any of the 1,001 reasons we made up to launch war on Iraq. Seems most 'Murkins don't really like being internationally loathed, disrespected, mocked, being made into a sad global joke. Go figger.

Maybe it'll help when we "capture" Osama bin Laden just before election time, when we finally "discover" him in a remote hilltop cave deep in Afghanistan -- a.k.a., a secret basement somewhere in Jersey where we've had him stashed for months for just this occasion. You think that'll help? Rove says it's a lock. I ain't so sure.

I guess that's it for now, Lord. I'm getting' sleepy from all this hard thinkin'. Thank you for listening, Lord. I know you're up there, right now, waving a little American flag and admiring your NRA lifetime membership plaque and voting Republican and givin' them icky gay people some nasty STDs and completely ignoring the rest of this big scary unpronounceable planet. Gul-dang heathens!

You're the best, Lord. Bless me, one more time, OK? I'm gonna need it.

[cornermouse]

1. Trust me. Dubya doesn't talk to God.

And God doesn't approve of what Dubya's been doing.

[proud2BlibKansan]

2. kick

This is absolutely hilarious.

[smbolisnch]

3. Did he have Rummy scowling down his hawkish nose at him during naptime?

No, he did not. This is great.
Are dildos really illegal in Texas??

:kick:

[Bronco69]

5. Only if you call it a "dildo"

If you refer to it as a teaching aid it isn't illegal.:eyes:

[smbolisnch]

6. Hahaha. That's too funny! I guess not if you live in Texas though! nt

[punpirate]

4. God to George:

"I can't understand a goddamned thing this fool is talkin' about... Pete, come talk to this idiot and find out what he wants."

[Neoma]

7. kick

[hickman1937]

8. Are you there dubya, Its Me, God.

:nuke: :nuke: :nuke: :nuke: :nuke: :nuke:

DON'T CALL ME ANYMORE!

[Neoma]

9. too true

[Neoma]

10. kick