Or, as we say here in Wes’BYGAWD Virginny, I’m mad enough to eat nails and shit barb wire or something equally as odd. I MEANT to use today’s blog to pass along an award from the beautiful and talented Misty, but that will have to wait until tomorrow because I. HAVE. A. RANT.
Those of you who follow me on teh Twitter may have already seen last night’s update: “Hey, lip-service Christians: Read your fucking bracelets.” What would Jesus do? I don’t claim to know His plans for the day, but I do know this: HE WOULD NOT MAKE DEAR SWEET MAMA CRY.
You fuckers are DEAD.
Now, I don’t yet know the whole story because DSM and The Concubine are currently in some god-foresaken (and yes, I do mean that) part of Wisconsin where their cell service is shitty, but I know this: Last night as I lay sleeping, the phone rings and I look at the clock. It is about 9:30pm, and I’m stumped: Everyone I know knows I try to be asleep by 9 at the latest (3am gets here EARLY!), so they wouldn’t be calling… and it’s too damn late for it to be a telemarketer or that goddamn Bill Clinton, so who is it? So I answer.
It is Dear Sweet Mama. And she is CRYING.
Now, I had called her earlier and gotten no answer, so I just figured, shitty cell service, no biggie. And her voice mail didn’t pick up, so I couldn’t leave a message. So she calls me back to make sure I wasn’t calling about an emergency, and then she just breaks the fuck down.
They’re allegedly supposed to be at some kind of CHURCH conference with supposed-CHRISTIAN folk singing Kumbaya and shit. AND THEY HAVE BEEN SO MEAN TO DEAR SWEET MAMA THAT SHE IS CRYING.
WTF, Christians? Didn’t your god die for your sins? Aren’t you supposed to love thy neighbor? DON’T YOU THINK BEING A MEAN-SPIRITED LITTLE SHIT IS GONNA PISS JESUS OFF???
Sweartagawd, if I can get my hands on these people, God won’t have to worry about the whole “vengeance is mine” thing. I got this one, Lord.