I'm not really sure what it is that god hates about me, but apparently, in some way, I've pissed him off. I mean, didn't his son have long hair and a beard? But I've never seen the messiah portrayed with his hair tied back (though you'd think this would be a practical accessory for a guy who was so busy healing lepers, tossing vendors out of churches and walking across water and all) so maybe my dubious fashion sense is seen as being profane ... Or perhaps this dislike is based on about 40 years of me denying his existence, questioning the need for such existence and just generally being a pain in his omnipotent ass
So I'm not really sure why god hates me, I just have proof that he does.
This past weekend I was scheduled to be held hostage by family and friends here at my house. It's a strange and devious act of terrorism that happens every year. It's like a dark ritual, somehow connected to the movement of the stars, the turning of the calendar and how much more grey my hair has become in the interim ...
The previous week or so had been perfect weather; sunny, warm, dry. This boded well, if the weather was warm I may be able to keep the invading horde out of my sanctum santorum Let them erect their yurts in the yard and keep them out of the house; this is always a sage strategy, let them in the house and they're prone to breaking the furniture and covering the wall with graffiti and replacing all my coffee with tea ... the horror!
So we cleared space in the yard and I erected a barbarous stone and wood altar to appease them (ok, it's a picnic table but Costco was all out of altars) and I set my two trained attack dogs on guard duty (they will actually bark when someone enters the house, then they will show you where the dog cookies are) and glanced up at the sky. All was well, the sky was clear ...
But the big ponytail hating bastard in the sky had other plans. And it rained. Roll back to last year's birthday blog ... more rain. If I live another 40 years and this pattern persists, then I predict a flood ... a really really really slow coming flood. Clearly, instead of buying a new picnic table, I should have invested in a few lifeboats.
But the one thing about invading pagan terrorist hordes, they have their own powers. While the rain poured down on me as I sacrificed meat on the fire to appease the rain gods, we built a fire and it scared god's rain back ... OK, technically, the rain had stopped by then, but if you thought this blog had anything to do with technical truth, brother, you're in the wrong place
The next day, the day the horde was leaving was, of course, sunny and hot. At least god was on my side at that point ... no excuse for them to stay ... not that I could have prevented them from hanging around. Nor would I want to
So another tussle with the cranky old bastard up there. Licked my wounds, pressed on, and showed him that year after year, the cranky old bastard down here will never tap
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