FORGET GOD
       He's Whipped Anyway.
       
       By Jason Wilder Konschak
       
       
       I have a theory. I didn't steal it. I made it up. I wasn't even drunk or drugged 
       when I thought of it. I was just sitting there, warming my feet on my laptop, when 
       it came to me, like a revelation. The theory's mine, and I'm about to give it to you.
       The theory has three parts. These are the three parts: 
       One, God exists after all. 
       Two, God is actually deeply concerned about what goes on here on Earth.  
       And Three, he's scared shitless. 
       
       You ask, "Dr. Wilder, what is God so scared of?"
       And I answer, "God is scared of you, suckah."
       That may seem odd, until you put yourself in God's big-ass moccasins. 
       
       So, let's say that you're God, and you build a living thing. After all, that's what 
       Gods do with their spare time. Now, let's say that you do a bang-up job. In fact, 
       you're so clever, you give the thing free will. That's an impressive feature to put 
       on something. Sort of like the car in Night Rider. That was one fully decked out 
       automobile, mostly because it had free will. (Though, the rocket boosters were 
       cool too.)
       Anyway, the thing busts out, and it starts making trouble. It tears up your 
       place, and starts acting like it's the boss. You want to get rid of the crazy fool, 
       because it looks and acts like a crazy fool. 
       So, you fight back. Maybe you get a bunch of villagers to chase it with torches 
       and pitchforks. But, the problem is, the freak is so smart, it makes a nuclear 
       bomb, and it blows the hell out of your stupid villagers. 
       Well, that's exactly what happened to our God. We're the crazy fool, and 
       God's you, and your place is Earth, and the villagers are nature, and the nuclear 
       bomb is technology, and the egg salad is still the egg salad. 
       So, you can see, if you were God, you'd be scared too. 
       It's the whole, "oh no, I've created a monster" syndrome, and God's got it.
       
       Now, I'm not suggesting that we change our behavior and become lovable 
       and friendly to God. No one wants to see the Frankenstein monster kissing Dr. 
       Frankenstein's ass, at least, no one that I ever dated. They want the monster to 
       tear up some villagers, and kill the doctor - and that's exactly what I want too.
       Furthermore, as far as I'm concerned, I hope that we blow ourselves up in the 
       process. In fact, I'm rooting for it. That's what has to happen to the monster in the 
       end of the movie anyway, so you might as well root for it. The monster has to die. 
       Usually it's because of something stupid it does, like climbing up the nearest 
       pointy building for not good reason. 
       
       My theory isn't supposed to save us. It's just supposed to help people find 
       their way in this messy world, so they can be as sane and well adjusted as me, 
       Dr. Wilder. 
       So, next time you need guidance, simply look to Heaven, and yell, "BOO!" 
       because that really makes God jump. Next time you're feeling low - slam doors, 
       play loud music, stomp your feet, and make scary faces. When people ask you 
       why you're doing it, tell them "It gives God the heeby-jeebies." Best of all, carry 
       around a big stick with you everywhere you go, and when people ask you about 
       it, say, "This is my God beatin' stick." That'll oughta keep God on his toes.
       
       In the end, all I'm suggesting is, people should believe my theory simply on 
       the basis of faith. In other words, because it sounds good. They should start 
       crusades to convert everyone to my brilliant religion, even peoples' pets. It's the 
       best thing we can do, fanatically following a religion. It's sort of like climbing that 
       big pointy building.
       Yay us.