Thursday, November 04, 2004

A prayer

Dear Lord,

Thank you for finally fixing the front door. Also for making the group of smokers disappear from our staircase.

Please protect the United States of America from any dangerous baboons, especially ones that might currently live in the White House. If you don't have the time to protect the whole thing, at least protect the states that did not elect any baboons. Also please protect our constitution from any amendments endorsed by said baboons.

Please smite Osama Bin Laden, preferably to death, and burn every videotape he makes with divine fire. Same goes for his colleagues and all the videotapes they make.

Dear Lord, there is apparently a lot of people in the US who consider it necessary to make laws that prevent gay people from getting married to each other. Please put them all in an extreme state of sexual arousal every time they see a member of the same sex. It might not stop them from hating gays, but at least they won't have any time to vote if they keep fucking like bunnies all the time.

Can you also replace the bombs and other weapons of Islamic terrorists with a special gas that makes people want to have sex with members of both sexes and eat pork, and prevents them from reading the Koran? I am just curious to see how many centuries it will take for them to figure out that terrorism is counterproductive. Extra bonus if that gas also makes the victim want to rape the Islamic terrorists that brought it upon them. Imagine that: a bomb goes off on an Israeli bus; nobody is injured, but some strange green gas fills the air. Suddenly all the passengers, including little old ladies, feel an irresistible urge to mate with the tight-assed 18-year-old suicide bomber who is confused and still trying to figure out whether he is already in paradise or not. He sees three 90-year-old grannies running towards him in the aisle, wild-eyed and with a bit of foam on their mouths, ripping their clothes off as they run. "Could those be the houries?" - he thinks in helpless horror. They reach him, strip him, and one of them starts spreading his legs apart as another inserts a carrot in his ass and the third one grabs his balls and twists. He tries to fight them off, but then the two burly men behind the old ladies grab him and hold him down in order to give the old ladies a chance before it's their own turn... But I digress.

Speaking about the terrorists: please let French doctors find Arafat's disease fast. Please let it be a rectal problem so interesting and rare that every single proctologist in France would want to study it personally with his or her own gloved finger.

Can you somehow bestow more funds and employees on the Aliens' Permits department of Helsinki police, so that one wouldn't have to wait in line for hours every time one goes there?

I understand that it's beyond your power to improve my grandma's personality, but thanks for improving her health anyway.

If you can spare a divine touch for my back that is still sore from last week's bowling I'd be much obliged.

You are omnipotent, so you can probably force Fazer to start making the blackcurrant ice cream again, right? That would be very nice.

I'd like to get laid too, as soon as possible, but I think Killeri can handle this if you don't distract him with any unexpected activities, so see to it that nobody gets lost on any night when we meet. In fact it would probably be nice if people did not get lost in general. In future, can you make them with GPS already installed?

Could you ask the SuSE people to finally release the downloadable version of 9.2? But be careful and ask nicely.

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