Thursday, January 27, 2005

Open Letter

Dear God Guy who accosted me on the Northern Line last night,

Fuck you, man. Interrupting my reading and then calling my book "sensationalist" in that condescending tone? Well let me ask you this, asshole. Which do you think is more "sensationalist"? A book where Jesus Christ gets married and has a few kids, or a book where J.C. is a fucking water-walking, miracle-sandwich-serving superhero who gets brutally and spectacularly murdered only to rise from the dead on a Sunday afternoon to ascend into heaven and sit at the right hand of God, who, by the way, created all this Earth shit in six fucking days?

Normally I'd leave that hanging as a rhetorical question, but since I'm talking to someone who is engaging in a wilful suspension of rational thought, I'll spell it out for you: the Good Book has sensationalism all sewn up - it's a huge part of its fucking unfeasible success. To illustrate, let's re-imagine your boy Mel Gibson, pitching his Jesus flick:

- Yeah, so anyway it turns out that this Jesus guy is the son of God and shit
- I like it. What happens next?
- What? Oh, he gets married, has a few kids and, I dunno, moves to the countryside?

Next please! The crucifixion is the ultimate crowd-puller, man, and you knows it. My book is "sensationalist", is it now? You fucking snooty cunt, fuck you.

Man, why didn't you just piss off like I said? When you came over to me in that carriage with your bonehead sales pitch ("Do you believe God is relevant in today's society?" - what, you're giving me essay assignments all of a sudden? Who the fuck are you?) I told you I was getting off in two stops. I practically begged you to go pester somebody else, some soft-headed tit who might be receptive to your hocus-pocus bullshit. But no, you had to do your spiritual duty, or whatever, and now I have to do mine. That's right, now I have to fucking hate you. Sure, I hated you already, in the abstract. I hated you just like I hated every other cocksucker on that train. But you had to go and get yourself some specific hatred, didn't you?

Here's a thought for next time, though. I don't know how many tedious back and forths I've had with you crazy fucking voodoo idiots, but it's more than I care to remember. Every single goddamn time though, there's a moment that goes something like this:

-We must all think very hard before we decide that we will deny God
-Oh, is that so? How come?
-Because we will all have to face God, some day

Wow, so you're saying I should believe in God because, like, God exists? Oh well, since you put it that way, consider me converted, Padre!

Dickhead. This is my request: if you absolutely insist on this "witnessing" shit, and it appears that you do, then at least do me this one tiny favour. At least learn to engage with me in my language. What's that, you ask? Why, it's simple, really - it's the language of a fucking rational human being. And if you can't manage that, then fuck the fuck off.

Yours faithfully,

Snotty McShot