Motherfucker, if there was some kind of a genius out there that could invent a machine that would melt away all of the skin and nasty web-like things on clementines and oranges, I'd fucking pray to them. Yeah man, I'd actually pray for something because I don't believe in that lame shit. I was watching a movie called Doppelherz today and Manson was saying, "Do animals believe in God?" No, because they don't know anything. It's humans that made up this stupid bullshit, smoked crack and wrote the bible. Jesus probably walked the earth without turning anything into wine but "the big man upstairs" doesn't have feet. Why? Because there isn't a big man upstairs. The only big man upstairs or anything remotely close to that is that fucking monkey that lives in Chris Griffin's closet.
Humans came here way too fucking long after the first eukaryote that lived in a fucking hot spring existed. Here come these hominids who could walk on two feet arrived, now the big dude with a giant fucking beard exists. Yeah, I'll eat a Jesus cracker for that. I don't know the exact number of years about this crap, but it's a big goddamn number. Fuck math.
If you're a devout christian, or catholic, or whatever, you're probably saying I'm going to hell for that. Sucks for you because I'll be sitting on a 10x10-foot lounger having brooskies with John Wayne and his deceased lung while you're up in heaven eating crumpets and playing Yahtzee with Wayne Newton.
Wayne Newton ain't dead yet? He will be, don't worry.
Christina N. @ 9:59 PM
