Married At The Hitching Post (MATH P)™

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Apparently my marriage to Kelly in 1979 (July 9) by that fully ordained Christian pastor / minister or whatever repectable label Rev. Green was using (I believe I saw “reverend” in there) was not actually valid (surprising to me, but not to the true believers) even if it were completely legal. It was not what it said it was. It was variably substandard, and was “good enough for who it was for” but that was not God. Again I let me deceive myself into thinking that words mean what they are supposed to mean, unless someone else decided otherwise and didn’t let me know. He said we were married in God’s name, but that part was probably just taking a supremely wild-ass guess (swag) like we all do. He can’t help it if God doesn’t talk to him anymore, either.

If that is not the explanation, then it must be that God quite often and faultlessly desires to put asunder what God (Himself, in case He forgets to check who I’m talking about or wants to report me or complain about me, I actually mean the real, one TRUE god that is not fictitious) has joined together (which is Absolutely Fine And Dandy (A FAD)™, as long as “no man” does it what it says not to let any man do, like putting unkind “hands” on and causing suffering to another true believer) completely against the allegedly “holy” vows we made before our freely-questionable God and His required infallible witnesses (we had to use humans and not any angels and the saints were really busy that day too, like almost any day or night, busy busy busy).

If God would just be more clear and reliable (didn’t think He needed it so didn’t bother to make Himself that way, when no one else was around yet it had not dawned how He might want to be only Good and not Everything, since He would then also be Bad and we know that’s not true, God is good), then at least we unwillingly perfect humans could stop making all these mistakes that we did not mean to make, or better yet they would not be mistakes at all, they would be heroic acts and worth rewards and all those wonderful things we always wanted ever since we were little kids and forgot to grow up, innocently and guiltlessly the way we were born, without sin, and not wanting to be with it, the way He accidentally did not quite perfectly form us in our mother’s wombs except as a concept (although He’d like us to believe that he cared that much, even then) which is really funny if you think about it. God is one non-stop gynecologist. He really loves that part of a woman more than anything else he ever created. Pussy Is God! (PIG)™

God spends all his time hanging out inside of women’s bodies, just so he can fellowship with fetuses. He has nothing better to do, and doesn’t even enjoy being kept in the dark, which is how it is inside women. What an absolutely ridiculous God, is our alleged creator. He is so fawking funny (!) and (?), ain’t he, li’l baby Jesus crawling back up into his Mum, over and over and over! He misses her sooooooooo much. He gets really excited when he knows he’s about to enter the old homestead, too. His face gets all purple with anticipation, and he begins to drool, almost crying tears out of his One Eye. Jesus has got just One Eye now (kept one of ’em closed for too long, so it went away mad or just withered like that fig tree when J got pissed at it) with which to give you that really intimate and personal internal inspection (it’s just your body’s cavity, so he security searches you for weeped-on weapons of “My Ass” Destruction and that makes Him MAD if he finds any), and we love knowin’ Him as Jesus One Eye (JOE)™ because everyone loves a good old Joe, and happiness is a happy penis named Joe if Joe has one (or more) to be making himself So Happy All The Time (SHATT)™.

(Being overwrought, Jesus often loses his grip, having somewhat weakness in his gut, and projectile vomits, throwing up all over the walls when he gets inside of MOM again, or maybe He starts laughing nervously, and goes running away dripping instead of climbing all the way in.)

Naughty little Jesus. He’s such an arrogant, self-centered little cock, ain’t He? Like that thing your dad has between his legs (if it didn’t fly away chasing after poontang), he surely has shared that muscle with you, hasn’t he, at least to look at, if not caress? (If your dad is not manly enough to show us his loving stuff, I apologize. We’ll have a staff meeting, your dad and me. I can cut to the chase and open-shut the case, before he knows what’s up, and he sure won’t be “up” anymore. Of course I will apologize for that necessary pain, but it will hurt him more than it does you.)

Most men are proud of their manliness and their manhoods, although each has only one manhoood, normally. There are exceptions, but we know that Jesus was ordinary in ways that men are ordinary, so righteous is our Lord Of Loins, He And His Perfectly Ordinary Manhood (HAH POM), albeit a perfectly infallible one (NeverSoft). The Manhood Of Christ King (MOCK)™ is what all the ladies are longing after, obviously, and each wants to be “the one” that he pokes first (they would rather the other ladies would just disappear so they can have J all to their own greedy selves). More and more these days, increasingly huge swelling numbers of the guys (Elton J often “rises” to these challenges) are desirous of His flesh and want to “be one” with the Lord, too!

That’s also why we know Jesus Christ is represented in every man’s flesh, since we each get one, and we get to keep it if we do not screw up, and when He rises (God Almighty, we love it!), your new day will dawn. Hooray for your daddy’s Jesus finger! WIthout his Christlike ejaculation, you would not be here today to be tormented by Satan’s own Galen (I don’t want to be the one, the AntiChrist, but apparently I am not able to be of the blood from all the cane I’ve raised — like an exempt empoyee of the cosmos, the normally applicable factors do not apply, since I’ve lost the game long ago).

Those of us using our fingers incorrectly will have them chopped down to the proper proportion (ouch!) and finally be able to memorize that one verse, what was it? Mat 19:12 or something, had to do with losing it. Of course, I forgot to memorize the printed copies of God’s Word, so I expect nothing less than Hell for me (it’s in Michigan).

Finger me and my soul, oh God. I have accepted and love your son, fully mature like me, and he makes me sooooooooooooooooo horny (too bad he’s not a woman)! I cannot wait to partake of that strongest of spiritual meats, which was from your bloody sacrifice. Such love, I have never known, but I will. Make that His will. 🙂

This is not disgusting, unless you believe it to be seriously intended. You just don’t get it. That is because you (the child who thought she was “of God”) was probably just a flash in your mama’s crotch, and your parents probably did not really give a FUCK what happened to you, since they (unlike God) were not thinking about you then. Obviously, you were not in “their” plan then, so now it matters not.

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I am not thinking about you now. You can continue to do that on your own now, undisturbed. I’m going to think about my Jesus “thing” and how hard life can be sometimes, just before I go all soft on it.
–g

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