Monday Is Blasphemy Day

« February 2005 »

Memo to God: YOU ARE DUMB.

You know I had to get around to it eventually. But follow my reasoning here. It is said, and said so often that even my admittely limited theological knowledge covers it, that God created man in his own image. Man, collectively, is a dumbass. God's image, collectively, is therefore that of a dumbass. So it follows, from a logic perspective, that perhaps God is a dumbass. An omnipotent, omniscient dumbass, but a dumbass nonetheless.

It would explain a lot, you know. Sure, it woudn't explain how you could have an omniscient dumbass, but with God, as I've also heard them say, all things are possible. Not things like tsunamis or mass murderers or "Son of the Mask", of course. God's not involved in our greatest tragedies, from what I hear. Probably 'cause He's too busy performing PT on TO before SBXXXIX.

Now, of course, the Super Bowl is over, the guys with the silver helmets are triumphant over the guys with the green helmets, and we've all learned that if you don't use Degree anti-perspirant, you're a genital-free Oedipal wuss. But last week, Terrell Owens of the Philadelphia Eagles was absolutely sure that his ankle injury wouldn't keep him out of the Super Bowl, because God had cleared him to play. ACTUAL DEIGNOSIS TIME!

"A lot of people don't know the extent of my pain, and they don't know my body. They can go by the doctor's prognosis. I respect Dr. Myerson and his decision to not medically clear me. But prior to going down to see him for that last visit, I can honestly say God had already cleared me. It really doesn't matter what a doctor says. I've got the best doctor of all, and that's God."

- Nice of God to check Terrell out, really. Pity he was spending so much time fucking around with Owens' ankle that he forgot to help Owens' team win the Super Bowl. It's unclear at press time which deity or power WAS helping the Patriots win. They ARE from Massachussetts, though, so it may have been the satanic power of thousands of gay marriages that gave the Pats their three-point victory.

A wise God would have snapped Owens like a twig on the first play, frankly. A smart God wouldn't have been talking to Owens in the first place, so the smart God would have been pissed off at Owens trying to turn "I'm famous and don't want to sit out the Super Bowl" into some kind of religious statement. A God who protects his rep would have done something. But Owens made it through the game, and presumably Owens will continue to selectively apply Dumb God's Will to all the aspects of his life. Traffic light just turns green? Thanks, Dumb God! Grocery store's out of snickerdoodles? Well, God must be busy down in San Marcos, Texas, scratching Teflon off a pan.

I traditionally ascribe miraculous appearances of Jesus and Mary images in everything from potato chips to bathroom windows to idiots who don't understand caramelization and refraction, respectively. But what if I've been wrong? What if they're absolutely right, and God is actually manipulating events to cause vague, Christ-like images to appear in ridiculous places? What if God just can't draw worth a damn? "I think it looks like Mary. It's impressionist. And you try working in pudding skin sometime. Not exactly a fucking Sharpie, you know?"

In San Marcos, Texas, they've discovered the image of Jesus in the scraped-off teflon of a cheap, non-stick frying pan. Specifically, an eight-inch frying pan owned by the Pastrano family. The Pastranos, who do not, by all reports, spend their spare time swallowing caps every March, did what any self-respecting family of God-loving, pan-owning family would do. Put the pan in a Ziploc bag, hang it on the wall with a bunch of crap bought at the Rejoice! Bookstore in the San Marcos Strip Mall, and called the local news.

The family sees the Pan Scratch Jesus as a sign that their matriarch, Mary Lou Pastrano, would recuperate successfully from a recent stroke. One part culinary, one part reliquary, and one part ACTUAL QUOTE TIME.

"We were praying and praying the whole time that she would be well. We think of this as the Lord letting us know she's going to be OK."

- Juan Pastrano Jr., who, if what he says is true, has answered one of theology's most pressing questions: Is God an asshole?

Think about it. Say you're God. And say you feel like randomly dispensing medical expertise, because you're God, and despite being made entirely of light and joy, you're not actually that bright. So you go to Terrell Owens, big, rich, famous football star Terrell Owens, whose only problem in the world is a bum ankle that's already being treated by some of the highest-paid trainers and sports medicine experts in the country, and for T.O., you appear personally and say "Terrell! It's me, God! It's OK! Your ankle's fine! You're cleared to play on Sunday! Don't listen to the doctors, listen unto me! Love your work! Bye!"

And then you head down to Texas, where a family is struggling with the illness of a loved one, and do you stop by, chat for a bit, tell them everything's going to be fine? No. You scratch some graffiti of your son's face in their frying pan and hope they notice it and get the message. That's the behavior of an ASSHOLE. What if one of the Pastranos had accidentally grabbed a metal slotted spoon while making dinner? God's message of love, glory, and successful stroke recovery would have vanished, and God would probably be too busy telling Michael Jackson everything's gonna work out just fine to even notice.