E-mail sent by ME:
Dear Mr. Jesus,
I received your message and was flabbergasted. First of all, I had no idea that you had come back to Earth to save the world. Thank God, what with kids running around with their pants dragging on the ground and their bare bottoms showing out just screaming of the lurid pleasures of disgusting teenage (Gasp, can I even say) sex. Sweet Lord, we are in need of a miracle to help save these poor souls soon to be our future.
Second of all, I had always wondered what your middle name was. In fact me and the girls would all sit around the table on a brisk Sunday morn and just think about these things. Me, I would always giggle and think that your middle name would be something like Henry or Francis. I certainly was close with Francis, but only the first letter.
I talked to my friend Mable, you know, the one who just can't get enough of your faithful follower the heavenly Mr. Angely - that preacher man on t.v., Oh she thinks he is such a righteous man indeed. He's got to be made of the heaven's clouds she'd say, you can tell because his clothes are just as white as a saint's pure soul. Bless the man. Certainly the clothing comes not cheap, so Mable knowing this had to help in her own way, so she had to sell her two children to a South American Drug Cartel to raise the money to send to him for all those beautiful expensive clothing that brightens up her day.
Oh sure, her teenage son Johnny is now being used in some kind of odd fetish club in Columbia and God only knows of her daughter Lily (I believe Lily is now, oddly enough, A MAGICIAN, because Mable received a postcard saying she was now turning tricks. I had no idea that Drug Cartels enjoyed a good show. I bet they would just love the shows in Vegas. They are wonderful. I am so happy for her.), but Mable in her heart knows that it is all for the best. If it is meant to be, it is meant to be.
Oh, I am so sorry, I have seemed to lost my train of thinking, let me think. Oh yes. So Mable was wondering two things. The first being what does H. stand for. Is it Henry, Hank, Hebergandosius. Gosh, we just can't figure it out. Second, did you just add the second middle name F##KING (Oh, I can barely say it without getting all flustered, I have a week heart you know, but then again you know everything)
She wants to know if you added this to somehow connect with all of the Gangsta Rappers that are so prevalent in today's society. Is this true? Is this indeed your Gangsta name? Oh, I just can't wait for an album, that Snoop Doggy Dogg sure would make a great duet with you. And that Puffy Cornflakes or whatever his name is would more than happily remake the song Tiptoe Through The Tulips with you as the G-rific backup lead. Oh hurrah for the day when all will come together, Gangsta and holy man, and words such as Booty and Biyatch ring throughout the churches of the land.
One last thing Mr. Christ, I am a bit disturbed by your talk of this young lady that as you quoted " would like to mount on your willy". I assured my friends that their was nothing indeed sexual in nature about this. I assumed that it was just a misspelling and you wished to say that you "would like to mount on your hilly", you know, like a little sermon on the mound. You would love to go to a nice little hill, get up there and just preach away with her by your side. Am I right?
And a woman's hymen tastes more like salami that has been left in the fridge for about two and a half years. I learned that at Bingo last week.
Please write back,
Your friend forever,
Francine P. Tittywinkle
P.S. Is it true that Bill Gates is the Devil? A poor young man has been wandering the streets as of late talking to himself, something about numbers, sperm whales, and historical figures. He keeps dressing like Gandhi and trying to get into my neighbors house wearing nothing but a turban and a smile. Poor thing keeps trying to tell me that silly little Bill is the AntiChrist. Isn't that just a hoot.
Dear Mr. Jesus,
I received your message and was flabbergasted. First of all, I had no idea that you had come back to Earth to save the world. Thank God, what with kids running around with their pants dragging on the ground and their bare bottoms showing out just screaming of the lurid pleasures of disgusting teenage (Gasp, can I even say) sex. Sweet Lord, we are in need of a miracle to help save these poor souls soon to be our future.
Second of all, I had always wondered what your middle name was. In fact me and the girls would all sit around the table on a brisk Sunday morn and just think about these things. Me, I would always giggle and think that your middle name would be something like Henry or Francis. I certainly was close with Francis, but only the first letter.
I talked to my friend Mable, you know, the one who just can't get enough of your faithful follower the heavenly Mr. Angely - that preacher man on t.v., Oh she thinks he is such a righteous man indeed. He's got to be made of the heaven's clouds she'd say, you can tell because his clothes are just as white as a saint's pure soul. Bless the man. Certainly the clothing comes not cheap, so Mable knowing this had to help in her own way, so she had to sell her two children to a South American Drug Cartel to raise the money to send to him for all those beautiful expensive clothing that brightens up her day.
Oh sure, her teenage son Johnny is now being used in some kind of odd fetish club in Columbia and God only knows of her daughter Lily (I believe Lily is now, oddly enough, A MAGICIAN, because Mable received a postcard saying she was now turning tricks. I had no idea that Drug Cartels enjoyed a good show. I bet they would just love the shows in Vegas. They are wonderful. I am so happy for her.), but Mable in her heart knows that it is all for the best. If it is meant to be, it is meant to be.
Oh, I am so sorry, I have seemed to lost my train of thinking, let me think. Oh yes. So Mable was wondering two things. The first being what does H. stand for. Is it Henry, Hank, Hebergandosius. Gosh, we just can't figure it out. Second, did you just add the second middle name F##KING (Oh, I can barely say it without getting all flustered, I have a week heart you know, but then again you know everything)
She wants to know if you added this to somehow connect with all of the Gangsta Rappers that are so prevalent in today's society. Is this true? Is this indeed your Gangsta name? Oh, I just can't wait for an album, that Snoop Doggy Dogg sure would make a great duet with you. And that Puffy Cornflakes or whatever his name is would more than happily remake the song Tiptoe Through The Tulips with you as the G-rific backup lead. Oh hurrah for the day when all will come together, Gangsta and holy man, and words such as Booty and Biyatch ring throughout the churches of the land.
One last thing Mr. Christ, I am a bit disturbed by your talk of this young lady that as you quoted " would like to mount on your willy". I assured my friends that their was nothing indeed sexual in nature about this. I assumed that it was just a misspelling and you wished to say that you "would like to mount on your hilly", you know, like a little sermon on the mound. You would love to go to a nice little hill, get up there and just preach away with her by your side. Am I right?
And a woman's hymen tastes more like salami that has been left in the fridge for about two and a half years. I learned that at Bingo last week.
Please write back,
Your friend forever,
Francine P. Tittywinkle
P.S. Is it true that Bill Gates is the Devil? A poor young man has been wandering the streets as of late talking to himself, something about numbers, sperm whales, and historical figures. He keeps dressing like Gandhi and trying to get into my neighbors house wearing nothing but a turban and a smile. Poor thing keeps trying to tell me that silly little Bill is the AntiChrist. Isn't that just a hoot.
