Smoog's soul needs saving. Smoog is a bad, bad, dirty soul.
There are a lot of people out there in the great beyond who believe in the other great beyond with every fibre of their ever-faithful, meta-mythical, desperate-for-deeper-meaning beings. They believe hard. I respect this kind of single-minded focus. It's irrational, hyper-emotional, and utterly incomprehensible to me, but these people get things done, man. I'm lucky if I can plan my lunchbreak ahead of time, while those imbued with much faith in God/Allah/Krishna/Ra/Pan/Zeus have gone so far as to plan their afterlife. That is some serious forward thinking, in a very backward sort of way. They believe so hard, in fact, that I sometimes secretly hope for their sake that no deity actually decides to show up one day, purely for their own peace of mind and the preservation of their sanity. That would be one mighty big rug to pull out from under someone.
come hither - back off
"Oh my- I can't believe- Is it-? Can it be-? It is! Bow down! It is God! The Almighty! The Father of all things! God is among- um. God? Wow. I never expected you to be quite so, er, purple."
HEY THERE. YEAH, I SMOKED A BAD BATCH OF BEATIFIC GANJA. TOTALLY MESSED WITH MY CORPOREALIZING SKILLS.
"Heavenly Father, we are stupified by your presence! Why do you bless us now with your arrival? We have waited for so long!"
OH, THAT. SORRY - I WAS LATE. YOU HAVE NO IDEA THE TRAFFIC I HAD TO DEAL WITH IN THE ORION NEBULA. DAMN ANGELS EVERYWHERE. BASTARDS.
CHRIST, IT'S HOT IN HERE. I GUESS I DON'T NEED THIS ROBE AFTER ALL.
"AGH! Lord! Oh my Lord! You're - now you aren't wearing any- you have a huge- oh my!"
BY THE WAY - ANYONE KNOW WHERE THE WHORES ARE? I COULD SERIOUSLY USE SOME WHORY ACTION RIGHT ABOUT NOW.
I suspect meeting God for the first time would play out like a very bad blind date. We'd smile, nod our heads, and laugh at all those stupid jokes, but secretly we'd be cursing Moses for getting us into this whole mess in the first place. "Trust me, you'll love the guy! He's smart, funny, a sparkling conversationalist, and very reliable. Sure, he's got a bit of a temper and occasionally smites people, but man, can he dance!"
Me, I'm an unapologetic agnostic. This means I don't believe in a higher power, but I blame it for all of my problems. It means I laugh at the silliness of hymns, but prefer to resist pissing off any persnickety deity by flipping a definitive bird in their general direction. Hey, I can't prove they exist, but I can't prove they don't either, so all those gods can hang around in the mighty vat that is labelled "unknown" into perpetuity for all I care. I'm open-minded, but highly demanding. You want me to believe in your god? All righty then. Fill these forms in triplicate, have the Big Kahuna sign as a witness in front of a notary public, and we're cooking with heat. All I need to embrace the power of the Almighty is concrete, tangible evidence that can be duplicated and verified by disinterested parties. After all, an agnostic is one who wants their slice of Jesus in a petri dish.
Like I said, I respect people's beliefs. However, my respect has its limits. If you come to my door one sunny afternoon and say, "Hi there! Let Jebus sabe you!" I will respond with, "Hi there! No thank you! Sin is so much more fun!" If you proceed to try and sway my opinion, you better have Allah there with you holding your briefcase, otherwise don't, don't go any further. Only when I show up at your door with a copy of Scientific American and a hankering for destroying your belief systems should you feel free to whip out your Book of Mormon/Qur'an/Bible/Voodoo chicken-killing ritual and smack me upside the head with it. Until then, you stay over there, and I'll stay over here, and everyone will be happy joylike.
Therefore, to the well-dressed man in the camel hair overcoat who walked out of his home, strolled to the bus stop, and decided to strike up a conversation with me on my way to work, I realize I may have marred your resolve to convert your neighbours, but you really have no one to blame but yourself. It's Friday. I'm late. It's colder than a witch's tit. I've overslept. I'm tired. I'm cranky. This is never, ever a good time for a sermon. Not ever.
"Hello there. How are you doing?"
"I think my toes just turned black and fell off from the cold. You?"
"Marvellous, marvellous. May I ask you something?"
[oh shit] "Erm... if I say no, will you not ask it?"
"Do you know what your future holds?"
"I guess that means 'no, I'll ask it anyway.'"
"Do you believe in a higher power?"
At this time, I was overcome with wicked desire, bad bad dirty evil soul person that I am.
"Why yes, yes I do."
"Praise the Lord!"
"May you be touched by His Noodly Appendage!"
"I'm a pirate!"
"I'm sorry, I don't unders-"
"Hey, what's that?" [grabs scarf] "I like this! Did your mom knit this? I bet she did. My mom doesn't knit anything. I wish I had a scarf my mom knit for me. Can I keep it?" [doesn't wait for answer, wraps it around head]
"Miss, I have been called upon to meet with my neighbours and talk to them abou-"
"Me too! I love to meet with my neighbours - at least, I did until they issued that restraining order. Did I mention I'm a pirate?"
"Look, I think perhaps we got off on the wrong-"
"You know, it's great to finally meet someone who appreciates the awe and majesty of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Spread the word, man!"
"Miss, I'm a Christian, and I don't think-"
"AGH! You're one of them! You have spat upon the greatness of the holy Beer Volcano in the sky! I bet you beat midgets too, you creep!"
"OK, look here, lady, I don't have to take-"
"Midget beater! Heretic! I bet you're not even a pirate!"
"You're crazy! You're just- GAH! Why do I-? You know what, just shut up! Shut up! Be quiet and just listen! Your soul is in desperate nee-"
"Oh look, my bus. Nice talking to you. Let's do it again. I like you. Can I have your number? I'd really li- Hey, where are you going? Come back!"
Poor man. Poor, poor man.
It is a nice scarf, though.
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