Holy Christ, George

“Why call ye me Lord, Lord and do not the things that I say?”
Jesus Christ to George Bush–Luke 6:46

I think that if I hear one more person say, “I stand by my president because he’s such a wonderful Christian man,” I’m likely to puke. Seriously. I’m not religious, but isn’t a Christian supposed to be someone who at least attempts to bear some passing resemblance to the original? So far as I can see, everything about our nation’s George is about as anti-Christ as I can imagine. Did I say that? I don’t want to get the end-of-the-world gang going with the “Anti-Christ” stuff. I just mean that everything the man does seems 100% opposed to the teachings of the guy who founded the religion.

Simple enough. If George wanted to say that he was a follower of So-and-So whose life’s mission was to end the world in a fiery swamp of misery, and that he worshiped the guy who said, “Stomp your heel on the windpipe of every lousy bastard who hasn’t made his first million,” well then I wouldn’t really have a gripe about George’s religious profession. I would still count myself as radically opposed to everything that he stood for, but I wouldn’t be calling the guy the king the Perverted-Nausea-Inspiring-Hypocrites-of-the-World Society.

Forget that Christianity is an organized mess of religions. Get back to basics. Wasn’t this Jesus fellow someone who said “Love thine enemies” (Matthew 5:44)? Uh, George, Guantanamo–how’s that fit into the love of Jesus picture? I know the dude sitting in his own shit on the floor is just an Arab who hasn’t embraced the wonderful encompassing love of his fellow man that you have, George, but hell, don’t you think he maybe is a little uncomfortable with the dog collar around his neck, the menstrual blood on his back, and the genitals of that other prisoner dangerously near his mouth? I mean, George, you may have had your hand on a Bible the day you took the oath of office, but open the damn thing George, put on your reading glasses, and spend the hour or so it would take you to read the sentence, “Love thine enemies.” See? That would be real good for you, and it would damn sure be good for the rest of us that are shaking in our boots as we helplessly watch you destroy the planet.

Oh yeah, that’s the next thing–this planet issue. That Bible that you love so much says that God will “destroy them that destroy the earth” (Revelation 11:18). Better run for cover on that one, George. Hell, you’d better try and find one of those Iranian bunkers you’re always blathering about. You know, one of those bunkers that would take some of your tactical nukes to blast open. I’m only reading a King James translation of the book you venerate, and I know that it was written by people who speak languages pretty close to the one spoken by that poor slob lying on the floor at Guantanamo, but I have read it backwards and forwards and I would still say, Mr. I-won’t-sign-Kyoto-Bush, that God is gonna get you and, what was the word? Oh yeah, destroy you. That’s not me talking, I don’t talk that way. That’s GOD talking. The One you say wrote every damn word and every period and every comma in the whole Bible. Hmm. Now maybe Jesus will give God a talking to and plead your case so God won’t kill you. Maybe He’ll be nice and just end up putting you on the floor in your own shit with a bunch of blood on your back and a collar on your neck and some part of Dick Cheney’s anatomy which hasn’t been replaced yet near your mouth and say that you can relax there for say, eternity. God is kind like that when Jesus gets on His case. Or so they say.

And speaking of kind. What’s this business about “No Child Left Behind?” As far as I can tell, that Jesus that you slobber about when it’s convenient said, “Suffer the little children to come unto me” (Mark 10:14). Now I figure that you’re dyslexic and probably read that as “Make the little bastards suffer,” but disability or not you really messed up your Christ-like credentials with that one. How many millions have you funneled into the profit snorting testing companies? About as much as you’ve yanked away from the squalid classrooms that the little ones sit in 8 hours a day? Would that be fair, huh, St. George? Crap. When I think of little kids in third grade quaking in their boots because they’ve gotta pass some test that a guy whiter and nerdier than you dreamt up, I could scream. When I think of my grandson who’s very Black and very smart having to give the same answers to questions that your Ph.D. (Profit Hungry Doctor) friend thinks everybody ought to give–well, I’d say it was time for a new American Revolution led by little kids who are throwing their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches—oh no, that’s right they don’t get those anymore; I’ll amend their weapon of choice–their McChicken Do-Thingies at the White House. If you had the basic decency to look at what you’ve done and follow the example of this Guy whose message your bastardized and screwed-over and rammed-up-the-ass bunch of TV preachers are always quoting, you’d be getting somewhere. What I read is, “Jesus wept” (John 11:35). Wouldn’t it be great to see you do that just before you fell on your genuine Japanese sword?

And how about your miraculous plans to “save” social security? Wow? Wouldn’t Jesus just whip out His wallet for that one. I’ll bet He’d just catwaller, “Screw the masses, I’m gonna play the stock market!” Why He’d just be a blizzard of white running in His sandals towards Wall Street. Only problem for you is, when He got down there and saw what was happening, He’d pick up the nearest bunch of rope and chase all the brokers and traders right into the East River. You probably couldn’t read far enough into that fat Bible of yours, but you see, the original Jesus, you know, the one you snicker and smirk about after you put one over on the masses, that original Jesus went into the Jewish temple and drove out the money changers. Not ATMs George, no. Listen carefully. Money changers. People who make money from money and not from an honest day’s work. Cummon, George, don’t play like you don’t know your friends, your buddies, the ones you give the nick-names to. They’re the one percent who willingly believe that you are so holy, so in touch with God, so above criticism or reproach, that when you fuck a nation–ours or someone else’s–they clap their hands and say it’s really OK. They’re the moral perverts raking in billions. You know, they’re the people you pimp for. Enough said. I know my train of thought is leaving you in the dust.

But I’m not finished. These wars you’re running. Something stinks. Something smells. It seems to me that Jesus, remember that guy who’s so convenient to you at times?–that Jesus said, “Thou shalt not kill” (Exodus 20:13). Well, actually it was His Dad who said it, but who’s counting? He wasn’t about to come down here and start contradicting His Dad and risk being sent to Hell now was He? So He said, “Thou shalt not kill,” but you say, “I’m gonna bring you democracy and freedom and capitalism–so boom, there’s my present to you. Aren’t you feeling free now that you’ve gotten over your shock and awe? Now get your sorry asses up off the ground, collect your kid’s body parts, and get with the USA program. We’re here and we’re gonna stay. You’ll get to vote, just like the folks in my country–and look what a bunch of beer guzzling happy folk they’ve turned into.” You won’t mention that the reason we’re all guzzling beer is that we poked the other guy’s button on a Diebold voting machine and somehow ended up voting for you.

But I digress. It’s just that when you get up with that look on your puss like someone has just asked you to add the tip to the dinner bill–I mean that look you give that says you’ve got a pair of eyes that lack backup inside your head–and you start talking about the sanctity of life, well I get a little confused. Now I know that Pat Robertson and Senator Frist and some of the other goofballs who wear those fancy Fruit-of-the-Loom Jesus underpants, start to spray holy jism when you rant about those little unformed fetuses, those little collections of stem cells that haven’t yet decided if they are going to be Republicans or Democrats, and you do your sick routine condemning the people who don’t want to bring infants into a world where you can make them suffer. But then, in the same smelly breath you go on to brag about how many “turists” you’ve managed to have killed that day. I won’t mention the fact that international travelers just about faint every time you talk about killing “turists” because . . . well, I’m not going to talk about it. Now George, even your with limited synapse capability can put “save the fetus” and “kill the turist” side by side and see that there is a contradiction. George? George? Okay, don’t answer. Obey Dick and keep silent. You’ve gotten a long way playing dumb, so why change now?

I hate to be all preachy, but you’re the one who’s always quoting the Bible and stumbling out of churches when you’re not snorting cocaine, so I guess you are the one who brought it up. But see, from what I know, Jesus sort of thought His Dad was onto something when He wrote the ten commandments, which He may or may not have stolen from Hammurabi. Anyway, one of those commandments talks about not coveting your neighbors’ ass. Now way back then the ass was a means of transportation. So I figure that zip forward a few thousand years and now we’re talking about oil. Oh George, you really are a big fat ugly abscess on Jesus’ sweet face. He may have raised from the grave and gone back to heaven, but right now He’s saddled with you like a big pustule in the middle of His forehead. I mean, how can anybody like the original Dude when you’re stomping all over the world and pretending that you’re His faithful imitation?

No wonder three quarters of the world is mad at Jesus. You say you’re His big representative, but just look at you. You’re a disgusting display of everything that can go wrong with a rich boy who’s drunk too much, used too many drugs, and wasn’t too bright to begin with.

I’ve got a plan. I don’t want to offend you or say anything that you could understand well enough to make you really mad. But here’s what I suggest. The next time you get up in front of a bunch of people, I recommend that you say, “I’m an atheist who sort of leans towards Satanism and sadomasochism and pedocide (I think that means killing kids) as my religion. Now if you can handle that, then make sure that Rummy and Dick and Condi and all the other wads of human detritus that I’ve elevated to super-status continue to have lots of power. Hail Satan. Hail everything ugly and nasty and detestable. And by the way, my apologies to Satan for putting such a rotten spin on his reputation by saying I’m a follower.”

Hey George, I might not vote for you then, but I would stop calling you a crap-sucking hypocrite. That would be win/win don’t you think?