From the [deep] Archives

With both Rosh Hashana and Ramadan approaching, we here at Punch Bowl are reminded that there sure are a lot of religions. To help clear up the mess, from the archives we have A Letter from God, from our Fall 1999 issue. Enjoy.


BY WINGED COURIER

December 31st
1999AD

Dear Fuckheads,

            It is I, your God. Yup, I’ve sent you a letter. What? Did you think I’d be showing up as a fuzzy image in a fucking tortilla or something? People, give me SOME credit!

            As was clearly laid out in your instruction books, (which I left for each of you in your hotel rooms), you were all supposed to go back East to fight in the final holy war, get killed, and put the proverbial fork in this sordid little mudball you call a planet. Instead, I find you getting drunk as fucking monkeys in New York City?! I’ve got an Armageddon to plan, and you’re all just gonna go back home and shove your Viagra-fed noodles into your ugly wives while your moronic little kids play Nintendo? I don’t think so…

            And do you know how this happened? Of course you don’t, you towheaded little shit-factories! Well, it was Satan. And who, do you ask, is Satan? Do you see that smiling weirdo with the microphone that hasn’t aged in 60 years? Yup, “Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve” is actually “The Unholy Dark Prince Satan’s End-Of-The-World Rockin’ Bloodbath.” Oh, and don’t forget about that Ed McMahon guy. Wasn’t it obvious? I mean, do any of you people know where that Publisher’s Clearinghouse money comes from? I sure as shit don’t…

Now, I put up a LOT from you little half-wits. Hell, I hardly know where to begin…

The Crusades: Do you think I’m stupid enough to send the French to take Jerusalem? I can’t even get one of those fucking frogs to take a BATH!

Modern Art: Kids, a big red dot on a white square of paper isn’t a comment on man’s inability to feel love in the post-modern era. It’s just a big fucking red dot. The next guy that spends a dime on that shit gets herpes, my treat.

The Reagan Years: He called his wife “Mommy”. I’ve seen it all, and that’s as sick as it gets.

Shit Porn: Call me old-fashioned, but when you were all four, you learned that doodoo goes out, not in. I’m checking my e-mail one day, and Gabriel sends me a file called “hot_lunch.mpg”. My patience ran out right about there…

Dick Vitale: Can’t really justify this one. He just gets on my fucking nerves.

            So, the time has come. Soon, the Four Horseman of the Apocalpyse; War, Famine, Plague and Girls-Who-Don’t-Give-Head will be along to stomp the whole goddamn lot of you into kibble. I hope you had fun when I was running things, because Dick “El Diablo” Clark makes me look like a fucking teletubby.

Well, you’ve gone and ruined your Eternal Father’s day. I hope your happy.

Shits n’ Giggles,
The Almighty

PS. Whose bright idea was it to cancel “Small Wonder”? I’m coming after that pencil-dick myself…

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