Thank you for attending this Zoom meeting on short notice. It’s wonderful to see all your smiling faces, though attendance seems lighter than expected. Is my deodorant not working, LOL?
I just wanted to convene the leaders of the flock to talk in-person church services. It seems we have a little problem with coronavirus outbreaks. According to the Department of Pestilence, there were 91 cases at a church in Tuscarawas County
. Another 32 at one in Licking County
. And a boatload more
around the country. I hate to say it, but we’re starting to get a Jonestown vibe around here. No one’s serving Kool-Aid for communion, are they?
Don’t get me wrong. I still get totally pumped when everyone gathers to celebrate me, God. But now is probably a good time to remind you of my No. 1 hit, “Thou Shalt Not Kill.”
Yes, I know some of you don’t particularly like this rule — cough, cough
– Baptists. But the Bible isn’t Golden Corral, where you get to blow off the vegetables to gorge on the Chocolate Wonderfall. You feel me?
I also know many of you are worried about collection plate revenues. Pastor Bob’s eight months behind on his child support. And the Evangelicals are struggling to cover mortgages on their summer homes. But risking lives to meet revenue projections all feels… I don’t know… a bit money changery?
Here’s the deal: The sanctity of life has always been our thing. If we kill the flock, our branding goes to shit. Rev. Jessie, you’re already stuck in a 3 a.m. timeslot on the Christian Broadcasting Network. What happens when the cameras pan to an audience of 8,000 cadavers? You’re gonna be doing podcasts in Thailand. That’s what.
Now I know some of you wanna make this about government intrusion. Like, “You can take my Bible when you pry it from my cold, dead hands.” But don’t you think the whole anti-science feels a bit performative? You’re preachers, for chrissakes, not running for governor of Georgia.
Who do you think invented science? Beelzebub? Hell no. That was me. Masks? Fauci? Also me. There’s no need to meet in person. I can hear your prayers from the bottom of a mine shaft to the VIP lounge of a strip joint, can’t I Pastor Jimmy?
I realize I gave you free will — which, in retrospect, wasn’t one of my better moves. But it sometimes seems you’d rather worship that orange guy. You really think I made him in my image? Really? He was built on a day when the empathy machine broke and we ran out of cognitive parts. He’s won like 10 division titles for coveting thy neighbor’s wife. The guy’s like an incompetent Satan.
But if you wanna deify him, have at it. Just don’t come crying to me when you show up at the Pearly Gates and St. Peter meets you with six guys wielding sharpened pieces of rebar.
So in summation: If you wanna stay on the right side of me, God, let’s try not to kill the parishioners. And one more thing: That coveting rule applies to you too, Jessie. Last month you logged 107 hours on MILFHunter.com. You do know I’m omniscient, don’t you?