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By Root 967 0

so you can imagine what our stand on gun control is. My dad waves his miter a couple of times-miter, cane, wand-same difference-and the next thing you know all the guns fall into the hands of the meek-which in the case of the Catholic Church means the kids the priests were abusing. That's right-when I said turn the other cheek I meant the ones above the neck, you sinbags. Praise my dad and pass the ammunition.

10. GO SOX-yeah, that's right. We're all Red Sox fans up here. Everything you've heard is true-Evil Empire, Curse Of The Bambino, blah bibleddy blah. Satan controlled all of professional sports unimpeded by Us for the last couple of centuries. We were a little too busy fighting off the Black Plague, Hitler and eight years of Richard Nixon to answer any prayers of help being offered up by overpaid wide receivers and Rico Petrocelli. Until the Yankees got that three games to none lead over the Red Sox in the 2004 playoffs. That's when my dad and I decided to step in. I mean, we're not gonna go crazy about it-the Sox won't win EVERY season. But over the next decade or so? Let's just say Fenway Park might have a little invisible halo hanging above it.

11. THAT'S RIGHT-JUST LIKE SPINAL TAP-the Ten Commandments now go all the way up to eleven. This one should already be crystal clear: don't send money to vain, hypocritical preachers you see on TV. The list of smarmy, con artist idiots in that occupation is so long and rife with humdingers-Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker, Jimmy Lee Swaggart-the names alone are supposed to give you a hint. Swaggart? Come on. Rhymes with Braggart? There's a cocky black televangelist currently invoking my name and my Father's presence as he flies across America from religious gig to religious gig in a five-million-dollar private jet. His name is Creflo Dollar. If I may take my own name in vain-Jesus H. Christ! What do I have to do-draw you a friggin' map? Stop giving your dollars to Dollar. Like I said-we're a little busy up here. Right now we got the whole Darfur thing, the crisis in the Middle East and whether or not to let Nicolas Cage continue to make movies. You guys gotta show a little common sense down there. Speaking of which-my dad wants to put this right out on the table-He does not now, nor has He ever, spoken to George W. Bush about his administration's policies. All He does is lean down and whisper once or twice a day-"Hmmm-a warm glass of whiskey sure would taste good right about now. Do it, Georgie, do it." Of course, Bush is such a moron he thinks my dad is the devil and ends up listening to the other guy. Who wants him to bomb everything. Go figure. See ya soon!

Forever Yours,

JHC.

CHAPTER 19 - The Asshole Olympics

So this is it. I've had it with our whole mess.

Al Sharpton claiming racism every other time Alfonso Soriano gets thrown out at second base.

The five-going-on-six-year Operation Iraqi Freedom, a war that has gone on so long, if George Bush Jr. was eighteen again he'd be calling his dad to find a way NOT to serve.

High-priced American athletes like Latrell Sprewell-who turned down a multiseason NBA contract because "I can't feed my family on 9.5 million dollars a year."

Really? What's your family eating, Latrell-Ferrari Testarossas? Mercedes SUVs?

Asshole after asshole after asshole gets ahold of the microphone and the media's attention in this country and promptly informs the world that we are not a nation of readers.

The drugs we ingest alone contain enough warnings about taking a single series of pills that if we BOTHERED to read the bottles-we'd be operating on orange juice and chicken soup for every ailment in the future. These are the most common side effects of America's favorite new prescription drugs:

Disorientation, apathy, anxiety, hostility, blurred vision, temporary blindness, nausea, vomiting, tremors, anal leakage, coma and death.

Now, granted-death would suck. 'Cause there's no pill you can get to counteract the problem. And even if there was-how are you gonna speed dial your doctor from the afterworld?

But all those other ones? All