Sunday, December 9, 2012

She never looks dn.


She never looks dn.
Written by Justin Vasterling.
Inspired by the Short Story A Sea of Stars by Kayla Overkill
He had read all the logs he could find by the time he could hit her with the externals.  They were just magnetic echoes as her I systems were dark.  It was a bona fide derelict, a retirement party for the right vessel and crew, but he was not it.  9sic deposited 800k into his trade profile just to download their file and it went a long way towards him not getting any not-so-bright, bright ideas.  He was to, “board the derelict Sacrifice as an employee of Kada-IG, dark the AS Beacon, re-establish critical systems to Min-60%…” which really just meant lights and heat, something to keep the flies away, feign life if you know what I mean “...begin allswell transmitions & repel boarders as needed”.

There were four other ships enroot.  The Quiester was an OrionINC Jupiter Shuttle turned ABsalvage, they were a three man.  He had been chatting with their Intelligent Components crew, a girl, he assumed as I did from the chatter log.  They stopped talking after he posted read of the 3 files from Nine Planet’s Situation In Critical office.  Either he stopped getting “emails”, I don't know why we still call them that, when they no doubt saw his course correction, or she just grew disinterested with all his “what are you wearing now?” bullshit.  The Quiestar had been on Sacrifice’s six since 60HoursOut.  They must have been talking to the crew of the Sacrifice, or at least some of them, while some of them were still alive.  They would have been the hardest crew he would have had to repel and the first ones on him now at that time just 17HO. 

She was dark inside and out.  He made six complete rotations looking for telltales, hull breach, that’s what all the CS alarms hinted at and what he thought.  The Sacrifice had flushed 82% of its breathables in the last 13 hours before their Abandon Ship hit a blue-shifted Calisto Relay and proceeded to rain an “All Hell Is Breaking Loose” distress that no one this side of Mars new existed in code form.  Abandon fucking ship.  There must have been a real nightmare loose on that barge.

He had just picked his entry spot when he logged visual of a “body” tangled in the aft array.  It must have scarred him.  He had seen bodies before and has said he preferred them outside the ship.  It still fucks with you though, still makes you wonder what it feels like, like you could feel it, you know, hard vacuum, like they might turn to you and tell you how cold it was or that they couldn’t breath or would try to hold the air inside their blood with freezing arms.  It was a woman.  No one likes to see dead women.  He took a 3dburst of the body from one of the arms he had put on his sloop last spring then harpooned the aft hatch and went above to suit up.  The image has been sterilized with radiation but it sits in the uzby-Q as a pulse of black slides, testiment to the fact that a picture WAS taken.  He took a body bag with him. 

The body had dislodged by the time he had made it out there so he magnetized the mylar coffin and put it on the hull next to the Lock he entered.  Inside there was power and heat, the lights were just off.  He couldn’t get anything out of any of the panels in the lock so he geared back up and forced it.  In side there was no one home.  He had about 12 hours left to push this bitch back up on her feet.  That must be why he didn’t clear the ship, that’s what he must have told himself.  After checking the Changes log on his Lock he had to have assumed they had all done what they said they would do and did not check the other Lock logs.  Sacrifice had 43 when it left the Moon.  People.  Now THAT is a mining operation, hell, two of the bays were still full of those bitchin little orbiters and those babies alone were worth a retirement.  Just remote activate the little beast, paint your 8mil Ton iron Asteroid and off it goes, attaches and ferries it to a stable orbit around the nearest Brand refinery.

He was at -8% in three hours.  It was easy really; it was like he walked into some rich guy’s house, started a fire, turned on the lights, locked the door and went into the living room to watch TV only the TV didn’t work.  He got some hall to hall stuff up but not even the securities would go live.  He was on his ship when he heard it.  He was setting up his allswell and piggybacking on the Sacrifie’s IFR codes when he heard it for the first time.  There are entries, now blank like living bleach had found the stain.  He should have emailed someone.  He should have sent something but he was not that kind of guy.  He wanted at least six minutes of transition.  He wanted to send a packet out that would show a ‘receive’ a good five minutes after mission accomplished.  It was his professional salvage signature.  He never got to send it.

When the Questar arrives they wait thinking the Privateer would pull some murder shit for the haul.  It has happened, the stories are all fictions really, it’s only happened once, still, everyone thinks it.  Vacuum is no place to fight.  She sends right at visual and doesn’t stop the live call for 99 hours when all three ships go dark at once.  Her shit gets to the AMLabAe8, one of the other “Four” responders the kid mentions.  Who copies the Navies IL8 Gaspra Class Belt Hospital Ship.   The BHS IL8 rendezvous with the the AMLab and they take the next 4 full “days” getting there, arrive, then litterally disappear.

Whatever shit the kid re-awoke was swarming as the Questar started to get Gravity pings from the NISMO Drive on the Sacrifice.  I watch all seven Lstreams from the Questars last 11.8 Live seconds like it is a movie though now it sits south left of some galaxy rendered a star by distance in my hud.

The truth is, there has not even been a sea disaster like this, it’s like a cross between a fog pileup on some nowhere interstate west that stretches for a quarter mile and wrecks everything, and a marina full of glass fucking boats getting fisted by a hurricane.  The “scary” part of the transmissions is watching the crew of the Quiestar in late Technical Retro just stop forwarding AQ’s or refreshing aperatures or TC's and just sit there.  You think at first that there is a freeze in the feed but you can see horizon displacements grow or move and you realize that they are all either paralized or completely distracted.  All at the same time.  Like as in within a quarter second of eachother.

It’s not even a question about sending a nuke, each of these ships is a nuke and the Sacrifice has like a golf ball of antimatter in her NISMO drive and that could put some fucking English on the moon.  Being the only boots on the ground I wanted to feed 9sic my thoughts so they would not have to say the stupid shit outloud themselves.  The bad thing about a decision was it required knowledge of the problem and the best answer available right now, for What Is The Problem?, was still "other".  

Why the fuck is everyone jumping from their airlocks.  That’s the question right?  How are engineers spending LONG technical moments writing software patches to allow them to pop the doors to their ships with creative and calm collaboration from other crew?  What turns suicide into a trip to the club with your friends?  Those are the questions and they export into the super-psychological quickly when you consider the variance of factors and the singularity of outcome.

I get a “Stand by.” Every hour and an “Update” every six hours, I suppose they do it just so I do not think they have all shit themselves and run.  I am 11 days in Observational hold before the BC Montero is visual.  166 crew.  It’s like a space station but mean.  I dock and board and spend 11 hours getting personal with some very young people in Medical, which is all the military is any more, kids.  I wear a collar for lack of a better word.  It will “turn me off” if it needs to; just until danger is over, they tell me.  "Yeah, well, I need to be awake to make danger go away." I tell them, one of them laughs and says no shit, and then they all laugh.  They drink.  When did that change?  They are apparently going to sleepwalk into vacuum, two of the very serious types are I guess, I also guess they keep them somewhere else because every kid I have seen so far is not seriouse at all, not even a little bit.  They volunteered is what Medical says.  They would report back if they could and one of the NCO’s nod while scroll-writing into the air..  That’s what they said.

I asked them what they thought would happen.  They were all silent then one of them started screaming and grabbing her throat and cut her G-tether and everyone started laughing while she tilt whirled stiff legged until her head brushed a chair and then they all just laughed and laughed.  They were like one person.  I started drinking too.

The Captain was a girl or as the ensigns in medical called her, a Lipstick Lesbian.  Something told me they were all gay or second gender or BioSterile.  I would not find a single woman to fuck on a ship of 166, 130 of which were women of one kind or another.  She invited me to the bridge and we talked, not entirely of anything relevant to the crazy madness waiting 18KNM dead center visual in the CIC.  It was comfortable there, looked like a basement office.  There was a drawing of a bridge beside the door as you walked in, it really set the tone.  Everyone was drinking, not alcohol but something.  They were all great friends it seemed.

Then a guy rewiring some feed in the floor looked up and asked the captain, how do they all know they won’t die?  A homely girl facing away from us said telepathy but the kid doing the wiring shook his head no and smiled pointing his finger into the air.  The captain smiled.  Then six very serious looking young men came in.  One of them had his uniform painted on, no shit, you could see his dick and balls and everything and no one acknowledged it but me.  The captain stood up and ran over and hugged one of them and called him Lyle and asked him how he was feeling and he said ready and she made and indescribably encouraging, excited and cautious look that infected the entire CIC, or just me, and at that moment I would have done anything to be Lyle.

Tell Lyle that, the kid who was finishing up securing the panel told the homely girl.  She stopped, turned and looked at Lyle and then me, then turned back to the display hovering in front of her.  The captain told Lyle to come stand by her and led him by the hand back to her chair and sat, took a sip of something and looked back at the conversation that had lost some steam.  Maybe the Homely girl was straight, would want to fuck.

They ended up “Sealing” Lyle into a Clear Carbon shell with 300Hrs air and a couple power bars.  Painted it with a very unique radiation signature and fired him at the confederacy of dead ships.  Anyone within 7KNM of the egg could see it and could call it with anything larger than an EnFinity drive.  They got him back in ten days after losing two LRF’s, the Ligeia and the Siopia.  Those were two crew FA fighters, EXPENSIVE, and the pilots were fucking beautiful..  I don't know what hurts more.

“Fucking mermaids” he says nodding when they get him cut out.  I remember thinking, He shit in the egg, that’s what they were calling it, the Egg.  I remember thinking it like he had done something wrong.

The Captain just told him that Medical needed him.  He was “shut off” and fired back at the moon like a human tape recorder being mailed back with the tape still inside it for someone to play back and listen to.

They got a woman out of the deal too.  The Ligeia spotted her suited up, swimming like in water.  The suite was old school and the twin Falcata Drives on the Montero just grabbed her ping and drug her 18KNM to the gravity pillow under the ship that awaited her insane velocity.  She said the same thing.  She was the star of the ship.  She wouldn’t let Medical fix her ears.  She just kept saying that she did not want them fixed "here" and asking if whatever room she was in led outside, like outside to the yard or whatever, thats how she said it.  "Can you get outside from here?"  She was hot of course.  Mean.  Strong.  I got a kiss and a boot in my balls becaause of it.  Shit, I should name this; a Kiss and a Boot in the Balls for trying.  Fuckin mermaids, and nothing from anybody like, she's crazy or, sedate her, or any looks of incredulity it was just, Mermaids, really, no shit.

I was EB so I took her; she was keen to forgive everything for a ride FastBack.  We talked a little.  I asked her why everyone in this fucking solar system was gay these days and she looked at me like I just told her that her favorite band just sounded like noise.  Whatever.  I never saw a Mermaid.  Never went back to the Scene of the Suicides.  It’s a big belt.  There’s no reason to go back there and I won’t no matter how many times they ask.  You see, the BC Montero came back empty.  The whole goddamn ship’s crew just walked into space.  I found out weeks later.  The truth is I follow her, the girl they found.  I watch her from the street in the rain, watch her through her window, got an apartment across the alley, our windows almost touch, Old earth is the real deal.  I listen to her scream in the night, sit up in the window like I am protecting her somehow by being awake but I am not.  I am just watching, listening.  She never looks up.

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Outer Dark


"They crested out on the bluff in the late afternoon sun with their shadows long on the sawgrass and burnt sedge, moving single file and slowly high above the river and with something of its own implacability, pausing and grouping for a moment and going on again strung out in silhouette against the sun and then dropping under the crest of the hill into a fold of blue shadow with light touching them about the head in spurious sanctity until they had gone on for such a time as saw the sun down altogether and they moved in shadow altogether which suited them very well."
The greatest first sentence of all time, from the most beautiful novel I have ever read, Outer Dark. 

Thursday, October 18, 2012

A Dream in the Witch House


a Dream in the Witch House

or

The Death of Christ Wolejko


For my sister Kayla on her 23rd Birthday, with love and terror and truth.


                We can’t save the kid.  That’s what this is about, it’s what I should say.  It never developed a sense of comedy though to say it, to trivialize weeks of terror with sentences, short ones even to try to give the unnamable euphoria of dread and failure and hope some farther reach, you would think it would have.  And the kid somehow was like a Jesus to us, to me.  Some kid killed though through a kind of inverted failure of the non-divine, the unguided hand, the soul without god, us.  Truth even could say he was not that thing I made him, probably would become a drunk, a wild man by civilized definition, a worker, only if worker meant socialist or sub human or something worth disregarding.  And to me, that could never close the door on the idea, the idea that god can grow behind doors shut by industry, chance, and the cool ideations of great daring giants, of stark withering giants, of ingenuous damning men.  And he could stand a king but live a degenerate in a cage with no crown but lust, but gods he could yearn for it, if only gutturally as another hunger, or that same rage that drives fist towards wife, daughter, mother.  He was no less my god though he always died before his third birthday.  The ideas never cross for me, talent, meaning.  A man in heaven could lean down from things right and proved saying, “Son” he could say.. “Son, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”  Would he think I was lying if I said “God built that road and I see more of him in it than in you.” Would he think it was meant to provoke him, would he think it wasn’t a prayer that I said?  We never save the kid.  We do not try a tenth time.  We watch the sacrificed become more important than the thing that dictates the gift and more even then the thing receiving it.  We, I, watch the child become the sacrifice, that is what our hammers rang to destroy.  What is that?  As I said, we may have been buying pennies with gold coins.  It has been the thing I have embraced this shade of their evil for.  To kill someone for what you have determined they mean to you can be nothing but evil and I wear it and who is to say that those things are two different things.  We sit for hours and I believe we think about him, my sister and I, though to remember how Fava told us before, and so acutely, that it is wrong to think someone as wise as yourself, wrong to think their silence a deep thought, wrong to think the pause of wind is anything else.  I take exception with my sister, I know she struggled more than myself with it.  There was nothing to do with the rat each time but kill it; what else was there to be done?  I am glad you agree, I knew you would.  And who was the witch really.  It would be like accusing a man of the earth’s gravity.  In the end, we kill her together, each finding a better reason than all the etcetera’s of evil.  And who are we to deny gods, but we did, and the blood and the diaspora and the tears we discovered, and the light-years and the instances and the cadavers of our plans, our genius, our elaborate plans but none of it bought him never once even one more day and each time he dies in the end and the wind misses not a leaf and the storms roll knowing and though rivers may come by him eventually and walkers fake a kind of brief shade, I still see from the helm of the wreck of this ship our lives have become, mass and light and I think of him and build with breath this failing altar and know, alone, for sweet minutes, that this is the truth, that for me it is all there can be, and this my sweet sister, is the end.

                It isn’t though, of course.  We come back for Joseph’s prayers, his shaking hands, his faith, though we, neither one of us believe, or hope, or even seek the same sanctuary he offers us with those unsteady hands.  His eyes remove a pain born here that we have carried so far Kayla, that we carry still.  And we sit and smoke on the side of that house and the place is much different, the whole place like stones on some road, a perfidy, all of it. It is a world only because he is there.  We stay for days when we come. 

                We sit in seats of stars.  Our bodies shirk orbits and though my sister has written “ghost of Christmas past” on the bulk-head wall far below the steerable levels of her, to me our ship is an angel of a god we do not serve but believe in; what a waste of time is faith.  Visitors bring conversation but leave loneliness.  I have given up being anything for her and yet confuse just being.  Our stories are here, in a ship of dreams, to far above time for time to be an ocean and too long in that sea to think we know anything of it.  It’s said in a book that if you try to save your life you will lose it.  Our lives were never ours to diverge, shape or unreal.  Looks tear centuries like cheap curtains and I have never known myself to be anything.

                We dreamed in the witch house and down streets that were never real and pulled columbine and smoked tobacco rolled in obituaries from towns that have never existed and drank water we found cold and deep and every inch of our own possibility thundered like rocks in our chests and we never found a way to leave that Christ though so cruelly and like that same lie we tell of all those we have loved the most, he is not here. 

                We have known strange seasons to be this free.  As we sit I hope she thinks that I am just another dream from the witch house.  I am.  If you were something once, in a place that was true, you might be able to try to say to us, “Son, Daughter, Come away” but we never saved him in the end.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Tony and Justin travel back in time to medieval Ireland to investigate leprechaun deaths


               We don’t speak Gallic.  We don’t speak Scottish.  We don’t speak English.  We understand some English, which is great if you’re on a passive listening tour of New South Wales; were not; we don’t know where we are.
          Tony and I have settled in at O’Muddycheeks house.  We have been giving everyone these surnames, if that's what they are called, O' this and O' that.  I am not sure that is even what a sur-name is, nor am I sure O' this or O' that would be historically or ethnologically accurate.  For all we know these assumedly pale folk could be proto-Huns, or Rus or what-ever-the-fuck-ish.  O'Muddysheeks has the biggest living room and best food and so there we sit.  Tony stopped drinking the first night; too much debris in the fucking whisky.
            “I think a leprechaun dropped a hay ball in my shit” he says.  He’s calling everything his shit now.  His shoes are his ‘shit’, I guess he still misses Africa, BC.  We have started blaming everything on the leprechauns as an inside joke to ourselves, a sort of self-ironic act that will not let us divorce ourselves from the madness that is time traveling backward.  The itch in my junk is just a leprechaun, sprinkling nettles in my shorts, and has nothing to do with me banging the witch every morning.  I don’t have to spell it out do I?  O’shitlip’s wife is taking us to where the leprechauns have been killing her babies, dashing them on a rock.  Poor O’shitlip’s wife has lost her last two kids to the short green men.  Then there’s Old Ben Have-a-bunch-more.  Great guy, happy, big family, wealthy I guess for this part of the old country.  7 girls, oldest is 19, youngest is 8.  Tony wants to take the three oldest ones back with us; wish it worked that way.  He’s a genuinely happy guy, looks more German than that sick, tiny, mopey looking Irish bullshit gene you see everywhere out here.
            At the meeting I try to stop it.  Tony feels it.  He has been chewing some weed the witch gave him, it’s like nicotine I guess, he says its like shitty speed.  I suppose it’s the closest thing you can come to a drug here besides drinking poison.  Everyone is gathered.  I hold the meeting at night by a big fire.  I get the look from Tony, like, its not too late to change the plan. 
            "Dude, are we not here to teach these fuckers how to fish?  Whats gonna happen if we go around killing all the supposedly ‘guilty’ people, no, it has to be this way." I tell him.
            ”I know" he says, but still, neither of us believe it.  I tell assembled hamlet that there are traitors in our mistsdists(sp?).  I had the witch help me with a pyrotechnic.  I thought about being honest, about telling them they can't blame teen pregnancy and burnt food on the supernatural to avoid being beaten.  I think about saying, hey, instead of making up little green men doing your dirty work for you, killing deformed kids or retards or unwanted pregnancies, why don’t you see if you can organize a cooperative of barren women or old maids who might want a little kid to love and care for and why not have the families that have 'donated' the children instead of killing them, maybe help out with repairs every so often and a few potatoes now and then.  I envision an archaic utopia in this shit hole of a place.  I know it won’t work.  I go for the pyrotechnics and murder instead.  Gully suggested we kill the two guys who have been braining their kids, but Ireland does not deserve that kind of justice and may never.
            In the end, through random bullshit, which seemed an appropriate face of arbitration and justice at the time, my flexible witch, 12 year old have-a-bunch-more(btw, she was not one of the three oldest we wanted to take, just in case, you know, in case you were wondering), O’no-jeans and O’laughs-too-much’s quiet brother are all the recipients of a minute, sulfur, meteorite from the sap con bat-shit, and a couple other things (none of which were probably vital to its functioning as a pyrotechnic), or as we were calling them, “Fire Faries of Truth, and hence summarily knocked out with sticks then pulled unceremoniously over the fire by two way too eager kids, Tony and myself.  It’s quicker than it could have been but not quick enough.  I tell them the fucking ‘Faries’ made a sign, marking O’shitlips as one who is guiltless, but, also as the one that the Leprechauns will try to get back into the hamlet through after we have gone.  “The Leprechauns will try to find a way in through this poor soul.  If he remains righteous, the hamlet will be spared.  If he seeks the aid of the leprechauns for perversions and favors, they will exact a child from him, and then all of your troubles will return.  If any more of his children are taken, you will know he has let leprechauns back into this clean and protected village.  But, don’t worry!  Don’t worry, this is a good man…”  then, I look long and deep into his eyes and... “No more of his children will be killed, will they O’shitlips?”
            It was a great plan, would have worked if they had understood any fucking thing we said.
            “Dude” they let us kill people and they didn’t try to stop us.”
            “Yeah, that sucked.”
            We have both lost our shoes and all of our jewelry, buttons, fuck, everything other than these night-shirt lookin things we have been wearing the last three days.  I lost my fucking crown in a bowl of porridge.
            “God Damn it!  I am really gonna miss that witch.” 

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Letting Michael go

Its summer before the cast comes off.  Were always eating, talking.  Shadows on the lawn of empire come longingly, forewarned.  I put my name on the ground.  I look up.  She drives me to the beach. 
“I don’t know what to say to you.”
I nod.
“We are leaving the world behind.”  Its dark but it is not dark.  Each step tells me the ground hides under these waves and on out to the end of the sea and forever.  I have never had to explain things to her.  “Bring yourself.” I tell her.  Bring yourself because I cannot.
“I will stop everything if you tell me you are my brother.”
“I used to need to Justin.  And you don’t have to stop anything.”
I tell myself I will start smoking.  Those things, those worlds we were, I am not the greatest thing in the sky anymore.  This is ok too.  We talk about the woman she loves.  We tell weeks of stories in wordless noise and gesture and laugh.  The city brings us back, places us in ourselves and us in it. 
This always ends in a driveway, outside a door, practiced over decades only in that it comes again and again, the opening of a door, the noise, the TV, the relative, the hurried news, the look in the fridge, the smell of the laundry on the floor, the look across the room at her where we both still hold the universe of worlds we travel even now, in this each others eyes.  We will always be ourselves.  Can never be something else.  I love you Michael.  I am letting go.  Good morning.  I miss you.

...because you are still able to hide from yourself.”

I take my sisters to the grave again.  We stand awkward, they believing, showing somehow with bends of elbow, knee, foot, neck, that we come here too much, that I ask them, that we all go up this hill to where I buried my brother.
“It’s not like he’s there you know, you do know that right” Kayla says to me.  I know.  Kasha touches her to say no, to disapprove of what Kay said without using words.  To say she hit her would not be telling the truth, but she hit her.  Kayla tells her no.
“I was never there.  Not enough.” 
“He’s still here.” Kayla tells me, says that my brother, like the force, is all around us, in us, alive. 
The things we take from each other, words, mannerisms, mostly people have taken from me though it feels prideful to say such a thing, to acknowledge it., those things are no more the life than a photo, a memory, copy of the story he wrote about us dying.  He mostly lives in Kayla now.  You could say they are the same person, we all have beliefs.  In my world he rides high skys in white, hair, beauty, bare hands and feet, gods own sword, him alone trusted with that strength, smiling, so far above us all, so fucking beautiful.
“I love you.” I tell the small hump of earth where I have laid the Lillie and planted the Popsicle stick cross, fitting grave for a gold fish, a farie, my brother.
“I’m not coming again.” Kayla says walking back down the hill.  She says it to us both but mostly to Kasha, I have stopped listening to hear.  Kasha is crying and puts her hand on my arm to come.  I hold the barbed wire apart for them.  The rage has gone.  Back, settled, the silt of my cup, the only cup. 
“This is such bullshit.”  She is a fighter.  A different truth.  She will not hide our pain, my pain, build walls around it, worship in it like me in my church of willow, sandstone and dark.
We are eating.  Kasha is happy.  I am lost.  Kayla see’s us both with a lens not real.  I did not think I was broken.  She will not give us wings.  I have never seen her fly away, I swear, I have never seen her fly away from us.
“Do you know why it’s not hell...

Saturday, February 11, 2012

God Wicked Hate Love Sacrifice

*disclaimer.  The penultimate douche in this picture has impeccable handwriting, but cannot quote verse for shit.
So, here are like a bunch of things that God hates with verses listed for the Doubting Tomas’s of the world.

1. Homosexual acts (Leviticus 18:22).  I love that God does not hate gays, just the ass-fucking of men by other men.  Although, there is more room for interpretation here as in most things biblical, but pretty much you can be sure he hates guys playing with other guys junk, enough said.  I do not think women can be homosexual.  I think women are beautiful and attractive to everything that has blood in it.  Women loving women and making out with each other is just a natural and good thing, makes everything better, doesn’t count as homosexuality, just sayin.

2. Bestiality (Leviticus 18:23).  Wow, Levi, what kind of crew were you leading around in the dessert, and again with the separation of the doer from the deed, very progressive for BC 1,000 +/- 4,000.  Just goes to show you how long we been doin stuff, sucks that pig fucking has got such a bad rap in the last ?,000 years.

3. Idols, and the materials used to make idols (Deuteronomy 7:25).  So, like, gold?  Pretty sure they are made out of all sorts of shit.  Wait, this probably means the specific materials used to create the idol, like say, some priest somewhere says, ‘hey, that Idol is bullshit, give it to me, God hates this shit, I’ll get rid of it’, wink wink..  then suddenly that priest is rollin in a benzo and rockin some Armani robes and shit.  Here is the first disconnect though, here we are seeing God hating a rock versus the act of worshiping it..  I’m not sayin, I’m just sayin, it’s a tough stand to be jealous of an inanimate object, but then again, I hate chalk.

4. Blemished sacrifices (Deuteronomy 17:1)  Thou shalt not fuck up the killin of your son or goat or anything, like sick animals and shit, sick animal sacrifices means sick priests because the priests, as gods self-appointed representatives, get all the shit “sacrificed” to god.  They ate all the prime rib and veal parmigiano they could and had some bitchin jewelry too I bet.  They should say “re-gifted” it makes more sense and is more accurate.  We don’t need to talk about how much God hates people who make priests sick with mad cow and bovine encephalitis in their re-gifted heifers.  I can hear them now, "God, we gotta do something with Herman, he keeps sacrificing those wormy old sheep, Nate over there is shitting what looks like a sea anenome, and Carl foams, thats it, he just foams."  "Alright Aaron, I'll see what I can do."  "Oh, yeah, and as long as its 'to you' you know, wink wink, can it be ok to sacrifice cars and homes and shit?"  "fuck no."  "Oh, ok, well, can we call it something else then, like tithe?"  "Hey, thats a good Idea, only, when my kid rolls down there for you guys to torture and kill, lets set it up so they have to give everything they posess to get saved."  "Booya God!  Thats what I'm saying, we do all the work, sweeping this place and shit and lighting a fire to cook our food once a week, its about time!  You hear that Nate?"  "erunhhhh.  Its, ooh, it won't come out."  "Dude, stop dragging your ass along the floor, Nate, Hey Nate, look at me, Nate, its not an it, its a colony of worms.  Your pretty much fucked, sorry."  "It itches.  alot."  "I bet." 

5. Worshipping the sun, moon or stars (Deuteronomy 17:3-4)  So, here, he does not hate the sun moon or stars (probly cuz he made ‘em) but hates the worship of them.  Comets, asteroids, kuiper belt objects, alien craft, dyson spheres, black holes, and obviously not meteors, cuz all crazy fucking Arabs worship meteors.  We can assume it is not ok to worship other solar systems or galaxies because they contain those non worshipable things (suns, moons & stars). And just so you know, there are like eleven more thing in Deuteronomy, mainly chapter 18, that has shit that’s hated by God in it.  It should be renamed Hateronomy.  It’s the second biggest ‘Hater’ book of the bible.  You guessed it, Proverbs is the Hate-tank weighing in with 15 specific Hates.  Btw, Deuteronomy is a Greek word Δευτερονόμιον, meaning "second law" they kind of liberally translated the Hebrew word Devarim, meaning "(spoken) words".  They pretty much titled the book (scroll) whatever the first line was, you can just see it, they had five fucking books to read.  Old fucker pulls out scroll, starts by saying.. “These are the fucking words of the kicker of all assess…” two kids in back (Tony and I) say, “Oh, I like this one!”  Makes sense that there be hate in the book named “listen the fuck up, this is the law and shit!”  Plus, their worship is kind of a waste as the sun is gonna rock down tans on everyone, even baby killers, so don’t waste your time.

6. Divination (Deuteronomy 18:10)  Now, this is where my AD&D brain kicks in.  Fuckin divnination?  How are we gonna find out what that fucking potion is cuz I know none of us are going to drink it..  But really, is divination real?  Like when old Wilbur Whatley takes to the field with his divining rod looking for water, God is like, “Ooh I HATE it when he does that!”  Because, like, what’s the difference between that and just guessing?  Fuckin Divination, that’s an entire school of magic.  Notice he is down with Alteration and Invocation.  We tried Divination to win the lotto in High School, got close, was not magic, it was guessing.  Got Hates guessers?

7. Astrology (Deuteronomy 18:10)  So, here is where we start to get contemporary (not counting homosexual acts which has pretty much always been around, and bestiality, which, well, I am pretty sure as long as there has been a pig, there has been a guy that has wanted to fuck it.  Oh and btw, like, there is a shit ton of women on line sucking horse dicks and getting totally corn holed by horses…  And, well, I really hate that too.)  Astrology..  Yeah, that means Horoscopes, saying you’re a Sagittarius or that your fucking moon is in Leo, in fact, I bet when God leaned down and said, “hey, you!  Grab a pen, ok? Ready? Ok, Deutoronomy.  No, not duteronomy, put an e in it.  No, at the beginning.  No, not eduteronomy, that’s stupid, put it right after the d.  yeah I am sure.  Listen, just do it.” He says like, “calendars are astrology, Moses, or whoever the fuck you are, I forget sometimes, anyways, don’t even look up into the sky ok.  Just, just fucking farm and keep your nose down, stop counting shit and trying to plant shit at the right times, just ask me or use your gut, no wait, that’s divination, just ask me, I’ll answer, I promise.”  And Moses or whoever the fuck was like, “um, so, like, can I work for a day’s wages??  How am I gonna pay my slaves?  Should I go to sleep when I am tired or when the sun goes down??” and I can hear God saying, “Fuckin, just do what I say!  Just fucking count shit but don’t give it meaning!”  “Um, like, how are we gonna escape basic math?”  “ I mean it Moses, I’ll kill everyone again if you keep asking questions!”  “Um, God, I just, so like, I can’t be happy it’s Friday?  I mean, how will I know it’s the Sabbath if I don’t keep track of days and ascribe meaning and, oh shit, God, is that fucking brimstone?  God, wtf!  Everybody,  run!!”

8. Enchanters (Deuteronomy 18:10)  “All rise, Judge Judy presiding.  Both parties have been sworn in.  You may take your seats.”  “Whats this?  It says that Ms. Miller enchanted the fuck out of Mrs. Lowenbrow’s husband and got him to give her many ass fuckings?  Is this true Ms. Miller?”  “Yes your honor, I enchanted the fuck out of him…”  “Well, God hates you.”  “Yes he does your Honor.”  So like, now God is hating the doer and not the deed.  So like, Enchanters must be some real tools if god breaks his bestiality and homosexuality, Deed versus Doer rule and goes straight for the throat on these fools.  I kind of wonder if it did not say Enchantress’s in earlier versions.  And here we go again all AD&D, and no more fucking magic weapons or potions or any fucking thing.  How are we gonna kill wraiths huh?  I can see some little tent in a bazar in prehistoric whereverthefuck and some smoking hot mustached Arab woman with these great tassels on her nipples is like, “I have enchantments, 100gp for enchantments”, and I am like, “SOLD!” and go get like a five hour lap dance dirty-style.  So like, what’s getting enchanted?   Do they mean Doctor?  Pharmascist?  I think they mean psychologist, or motivational speaker actually, now that I have given it some thought I bet Tony Robbins is an enchanter.  Hear that Tony Robbins?  God fucking hates you!  Lol!  So but like, god leans down after the super bowl and says, “Hey, fuck, I hate Enchanters!  Round up all the Enchanters or I flood this shit hole again..”  “Wow, Bill, did that just fucking happen?”  “Yes Ron, that just happened.”  “Are you sure it wasn’t part of the Half-Time show?”  “Yes Ron, I am sure, They can’t say ‘fuck’, ‘hate’ or ‘shit hole’ during the half-time show.”  “Dude, Bill, what the fuck are Enchanters and where are we gonna find some so we don’t get Bird flu on the Princess Cruise line.”  “Ron, I have no fucking idea.”  “We are so fucked if we do not scare up some Enchanters.”  “Yes we are Ron, yes we are.”

9. Witches (Deuteronomy 18:10)  I really wish this said Bitches, but I love my bitches yo.  So these witches must be the 4HD type, you know like Hag’s and shit.  Or like midwives, or again, proto-doctors, proto-drug dealers, pre-Pfizer dick hardeners.  Witches fucking rule, I am sorry.  I wish there were witches for real.  I would love that shit, half my paycheck would go to witches, the other half to enchantresses.  And again, it’s the person not the crime when it comes to witches.  God hates Cher, Susan Sarandon and that other one who did that shitty remake of Grease, Pfifer(sp)?  At least he is schilling the hate to Haiti where I am pretty sure if you said “Alright, if you’re a doctor, raise your hand.”  (no hands)  “ok, if you’re a witch, raise your hand”  (ten hands raise).  “Ok, ok, that’s good, now were getting somewhere.  You young lady, you raised your hand, what do you do as a witch?”  “Mostly hand-jobs, make crude Pepto-Bismol, tell these other bitches that their man is fucking around on them, tell people what they want to hear for money, occasionally, I put mud on burns and sow pussy tears shut after these children get pregnant by their fathers.”  “Oh, Ok, Well, not sure why God hates some of that, but, well, he does, so just knock it off ok?”  “Uh, no?”  

10. Charmers (Deuteronomy 18:11)  Hmm.  All I am getting is Snake Charmers cuz I am pretty sure god does not hate Prince Charming because that would make God a douche.  So he hates those little (east)Indian boys who play that obnoxious recorder thing and drag cobras around in the filth so they can pay their pimp.  And probably the Thai boys who stick their heads in Alligator mouths too.  Oh yeah and people who put their fingers on chicken heads and shit and make them go to sleep?  And this is totally AD&D talking again but isn’t Enchantment/Charm the official name of the school of magic?  At first I thought God hated all this shit cuz of the 1d4 thing, which is why everyone hates them, but I am certain it goes deeper.  Maybe he means hypnotists?  Eh, I don’t think so, they had hypnotism back then and so he would probably say, he hates the practice of making people think they are chickens.

11. Wizards (Deuteronomy 18:11)  I got ya on this one God, I fucking hate Wizards too.  I hate the pinball Wizard and the ride The Wizard that makes me puke my shit every time that carnies roll it into town.  I hate Gandolf for getting EVERYONE killed needlessly.  I hate the Wizard of OZ.  I hate the Wizards of Waverly place.  I hate Wizard City.  I hate Wizards of the Coast.  I hate Wizard in Glass and Stephen for writing it.  I hate Electric Wizard.  I hate the Pill Identification Wizard and a shit ton of other wizards too.  I fuckin HATE wizards.

12. Necromancers (Deuteronomy 18:11)  Ok, so the Bible was written by my friend Tony and I when we went back in time to research some shit for a new AD&D campaign I was writing.  And, well, we spread some bullshit around, basically, everyone back then would believe anything you fucking said, and, well, we took some liberty’s.  Necromancers.  NECROmancers.  DEADcharmers.  What the fuck is god saying?  He does not like people who make zombies, cuz, the last time I looked, there were no Zombies.  God knows I would love a zombie apocalypse as much as the next man, but, there are no fucking zombies.  So, like, Wikipedia says that it’s just talking to the dead.  Now that is fucking rich.  And there is more shit on divination, which, as we all know now, God hates.  But he does not hate Diviners, just Divination.  I just find that to be so significant I can’t stop pointing it out.  But Necromancers, well, put those fuckers next to the witches cuz God hates them too!  I really want to play some Baldurs Gate right now!  Any who, the witch of Endor (yes, she was an ewok) used necromancy to summon a dead prophet for a soon to be dead king.  But, technically, as soon as the witch used necromancy, she became a necromancer.  The bible times sound way more bitchin then today.  Witches, pig-fucking, necromancy, witches, charmers, wizards, witches, idols, blemished sacrifices, enchanters, witches!  I’ll pass on the homosexuality though, that’s going way too far.   
   
13. Transvestitism (Deuteronomy 22:5)  Which I may have been guilty of once for Halloween when Kasha talked me into dressing as a woman in 5th grade.  I maybe did it again later but I never tricked any one like that guy tricked Bigby (pronounced Begby) in Trainspotting.  I like it when my girl pretends to be a guy, it’s hot.  She’s hot.  She doesn’t do it much, she thinks it’s creepy, and it is, almost as creepy as how much of a turn on it is to me.  Here we have God hating the idea of something though.  Note that he does not hate people doing it, he does not hate the people, he hates the idea of Transvestitism, like guys in burka’s...  I can see why this may be an important thing to squash out in Arabia.  Like most people I know.  My only exposure to a transvestite was at the Rocky Horror Picture Show, to which I went for real.  What happened to that guy? 

14. The hire of a whore (Deuteronomy 23:18)  Now this just isn’t fair.  They don’t do it for free!  This is also like a double negative; the hiring of someone who is defined by their hiring??  So, are they whores if no one hires them?  I love whores!  I think most of us are whores, it’s just the money doesn’t get to the whore directly anymore, it goes by way of Jared’s and Remax and Tijajuana Jones!  I love the idea of a guilt free romp that incentivizes both parties.  I think God may suggest here that we stiff our whores. Well I for one say no.  Pay these whores what they are owed!  I am glad God does not hate “guys who hire whores”.  This may also be some long-running indictment on the institution of marriage or like relationships in general, like, he could be saying, “I hate it when Jim has to turn to whores to get his dick sucked.” Like maybe there are just no more good girls in the old neighborhood, or maybe Susie doesn’t put a shine on that dick anymore, maybe she lacks the enthusiasm.

15. Remarriage to a former wife after she has been married to another man (Deuteronomy 24:4)  admittedly, this reads a bit like, “Susie’s brother Joe who is married to that bitch from Syria, has this friend…”  So, clearly, god does not want back into that pussy if there have been other dicks in it.  I think men everywhere agree, unless it’s fine, and then, we make our way back to the hire of a whore and we are back at square one again.  How about God hates cheating husbands?  How about, God hates guys who try to fuck the sister in laws?  Or how about, God hates guys who fuck their wives’ daughters from other men, so long as they were not married before they were married to the guy that gave them the daughter the original guy wants to fuck, cuz if so, gods gonna hate that marriage.  Just an observation, but if Child Molestation doesn’t show up soon on the list of things God hates, it may not be something God hates. 

16. Dishonest scales (Deuteronomy 25:13-16)  No argument here unless it’s is saying God lost ten pounds when he really didn’t and then, God should love that scale.  “Mary Jane, got that scale calibrated yet?  Every second it takes is a second this warehouse is a channel for all Gods hate.”  “Skip, if you don’t shut the fuck up and get away from me while I am working, Gods gonna hate this scale until you find someone else to fix it.”  “Mary Jane, are you wearing coveralls to fix that scale?”  “Skip, I swear to God Skip, one more word.”  “Mary Jane, you are practicing transvestitism while dickering around with a dishonest scale, you may want to go kill yourself, cuz God so completely hates you right now it’s not funny, so hurry up and go change your clothes, I wan’t to see crotch up your skirt when you work on MY scales woman!”   

17. Workers of iniquity (Psalm 5:5)  God hates people who work for a Danish death metal band?  Roadies?  God hates Roadies?  Or people (workers) who do bad shit.  He hates them.  Try it.  Say it with me once, “I hate workers of iniquity” Yeah, something isn’t right with this one.  Not sure what it is.  I was hoping for a lean towards inequality, but God gives equality two thumbs down.  Perhaps it’s another way to say god hates wickedness?

18. The wicked (Psalm 11:5)  Yes, the wicked are also hated by god.  I swear to god that was a coincidence.  Who are the wicked people, let’s find them today in our society, we can start with Hitler because a picture of Hitler came up when I typed Wicked, Sinner, Evil into the mouth of the internet.  This is awesome because I think it says somewhere in Isaiah how God hates Hitler already.  So, pretty much I don’t know what a wicked person is if it is different than a person who does not do everything God tells them to do.  God, this is quite a wide blanket of cold hate to throw on the childrens.

19. Those who love violence (Psalm 11:5)  yeah, so, I fuckin love violence pretty much.  I have like appeared in a couple spots on this list already, so, no wonder god does not answer my prayers.  I just want to say, I can’t fucking believe we made it through Deuteronomy, that sucked but it made me go stick in Excalibur.  That movie still rules.  Look, its Gabriel Byrne and a Neanderthal looking Liam and swinging tittied goddess Ms. Helen Mirren!  I just can’t say enough about how much I get off on violence, really.

20. The froward [perverse] (Proverbs 3:32)  “Hey Susie?”  “Yeah Jim?”  “Hey Susie, look at that froward son of a bitch sittin over there by the window.”  “Who, that froward bastard there?”  Yes Susie, that hated-by-God froward mother fucker.”  I looked it up.  There is no such thing as froward.  I think it’s The forward.  The mother fucking forward.  This is Sparta!

21. A proud look (Proverbs 6:16-17)  “Cuz I’m proud to be an American, where at least I know I’m free, and I’m proud to thank the men who died, and gave that right to me, and I’ll gladly stand up, next to them and defend her still today, cuz there ain’t no douououbt I love this place, God bless the usaaa!”

22. A lying tongue (Proverbs 6:17)  God hates my fucking tongue and he hates me..  I am so fucked.

23. Hands that shed innocent blood (Proverbs 6:17)  Ok, I almost said, whew!  Not guilty here, then I remembered, I had an abortion with the first woman I ever loved when we were both children.  I killed my child.  That is evil and worth being hated for and legit.  I will never forgive myself for it.

24. A heart that devises wicked imaginations (Proverbs 6:18)  So, back to a lighter topic, like, shit God hates and we are thrown up a couple spots back to the wicked.  So, who is gonna have a heart in them that devises wicked imaginations but the wicked?  “Hey Kirk.”  “Yes God?”  “Kirk, I fucking Hate you.”  “Jesus Christ God, that’s a little harsh.”  “Oh and Kirk.”  “Yeah God?”  “I fucking Hate your heart too.”  “Fuck you god, and its Captain Kirk you mother fucker.”  So, like, God does not hate people who tell him to fuck off, case you were wondering.  And I am pretty sure he does not hate scribes, so there.  “Hey Ms. Holiday.”  “Yes Mr. Dean?”  “Ms. Holiday, can you devise an imagination for me?”  “Devise a what?”  “Devise, you know, figure out, can you figure out an imagination for me?”  “Listen you freak, number one, your retarded.  Number two, No, just no.  Number three, only if you can eat an eat.  That help Mr. Dean?”  “Ms. Holiday?”  “Now what is it!”  “God hates the hire of a whore?”  This brings up a great question.  Can the heart think?

25. Feet that are swift in running to mischief (Proverbs 6:18)  There is paradigm shift here in gods record setting hate where he begins to sneak in partial body hate.  He slips in tongue, then hands, then a heart, now he is hating feet.  Not feet that step in shit and then walk on a white rug.  Not feet that kick balls.  Not feet that stomp necks.  Not feet that have bad fungus and are secretly dipped into drinks at expensive restaurants, but feet that haul ass towards mischief..  Couldn’t just be I hate it when you fuckers get all excited to break windows out and light cars on fire.  no it’s, I hate those feet of yours, you know, the ones you are running towards that window with a brick in your hand on?   Notice he doesn’t hate Timmy’s feet that are slow as fuck when they crutch along towards mischief, Timmy’s feet are cool with God.  

26. A false witness who speaks lies (Proverbs 6:19)  Guys, were like almost two thirds done with this horse shit master of the universe of hate list.  God does not hate a false witness that holds his tongue.  God also does not hate a person who speaks lies, so long as they do not witness falsely, however he will still hate that fucking tongue right out of their head.  I think everyone hates someone who lies on the stand, but when you think of it, our society is so rinky dinky we stand together and say, “ok, I know you killed her, you know you killed her, but don’t lie while we ask you questions for the next ten minutes to get you to admit it or try to determine if you should get the electric chair or not, ok?”  On an unrelated note, I want to make some shrinky dinks.  So here it goes, killer on stand, DA says, did you do it? Killer says no, God shouts down from heaven, I Hate you!  This is just killin me, I am laughing so hard right now you have no idea. 

27. Anyone who sows discord among brethren (Proverbs 6:19) I don’t think I have the energy for this.  Usually it’s the brothers cock-punching each other and fucking each other’s girlfriends and breaking each other’s shit and pissing in each other’s mouths when they are sleeping and dirt-doggin each other’s toothbrushes that makes brothers have “discord”.  I had two brothers and no one tried to get between us but each other.

28. Lying lips (Proverbs 12:22)  Oh shit, Tongue AND lips?  This is some serious shit.  Someone must have lied to God when he was a kid cuz he is not having this shit. 

29. The sacrifices of the wicked (Proverbs 15:8)  Something tells me that all the sacrifices of the wicked are blemished already and since the wicked and their hearts are already eating handfuls of God-hates-me sandwiches, when god leans down and says, “I hate your sacrifice” their like, yeah, yeah, I know.  I just can’t help but think that there needs to be some give in this war on the wicked and their tongues and lips and their imaginings and shit.  Like, how do you get back from being wicked if Gods shit-canning your blemished sacrifices all over hell and back?  Oh! Oh! I just thought of a new word..  sacrifeces.  Booya! 

30. The ways of the wicked (Proverbs 15:9)  Holy shit I need to start reading ahead, now their fucking ways are toast.  “Hey, look God, this is my way, what do you think?”  “I fuckin hate it”  “Dude, God, you didn’t even look”  “I fuckin hate your tongue.”  “My tongue?  What” “I hate your big soft lips too”  “God, are you trying to queer bait me?”  “I hate it when you let guys play with your dick.”  “What the fuck did you just say?”  “And I hate it when you play with dicks that are not yours, that is to say, I hate it when you play with a dick, and that dick that you are playing with is not your own dick, you know, the one you always play with, the one I attached to you and put in perfect reach of your hand.”  “Oh my god, oh my god, someone call the fucking police!”

31. The thoughts of the wicked (Proverbs 15:26)  Oh my GOD!  Their thoughts and their imaginings!  It’s now complete; it’s like when The Children of Hurin came out.  All the Hurin shit in one place, what a great idea.  There should be a Bible 2.0 The fucking wicked and their tongues and lips and ways, and imaginings and hearts and sacrifices and shit.

32. The proud in heart (Proverbs 16:5)  I just can’t wrap my mind around this one, any takers out there?  The scornful in heart get a pass, proud in heart get a shit sandwich made with all gods hate.  This would have been better if it had worked in the wicked somewhere, those fucking wicked are just takin it deep.

33. Those who justify the wicked (Proverbs 17:15)  Oh, shit, I have to go up where I Wrote Bible 2.0 The fucking wicked and their tongues and lips and ways, and imaginings and hearts and sacrifices and shit. and add and the fuckers who justify them!  Lol!  That is so rich!

34. Those who condemn the just (Proverbs 17:15)  Here we get some swing back towards rational thought.  I think you could grow your constituency on this.  “If you elect me for fucker, I promise I will condemn the other fuckers out there sittin around condemning the just.”  (cue roaring applause) 

35. Vain sacrifices (Isaiah 1:13)  I wanna get my sacrifice on.  I totally missed out on the sacrificing shit.  That sucks!  “Hey John, so were sacrificing these blemished fucking goats and shit while still being wicked and really having no intentions of unwickedinging ourselves.”  “Yeah, sounds like you’re sacrificing in vain Bill.”  “Hey, fuck you John.”  “Yeah, whatever, that pretty much makes you wicked-six-times-fucked so now your all around sextuple hated bill, so, you might as well fuck that blemished sheep before you kill it.”  “Good idea John, you want in on any of this poon mignon?”  “No Bill, I am not wicked, sorry.  All of my actions make sense to me.”

36. Feasts as Israel celebrated them (Isaiah 1:14)  Holy shit.  I thought Israel only became a real place in like 1919 or some shit?  “Going to the feast Jack?”  “What kind of feast will it be Karen?”  Well, this feast is gonna be a raw blood orgy in the manner of the romans at the peak of their evil fucking madness.”  “Count me in Karen, just so long as it’s not like those feasts that Israel celebrated, God and I hate those fucking feasts.”  “No worries there Jack, this feast will be pure fucking evil.”  “Nice.”

37. Robbery for burnt offering (Isaiah 61:8)  And here we see a difference between sacrifices and burnt offerings. Who in the fuck that is still living can explain the difference to us?  Other than the obvious distinction, I thought robbery was already covered by the ten commandments and shit.   

38. Idolatry (Jeremiah 44:2-4) Something tells me that wicked people do idolatry.  Just a guess. 

39. Evil plans against neighbors (Zechariah 8:17)  God has never met my neighbors.

40. False oaths (Zechariah 8:17)  Again with the lies.  I don’t think anyone likes lies and false oaths and shit, so, we are not total flushers.

41. Esau (Malachi 1:1-3; Romans 9:13)  Holy shit.  How would you like to be mentioned by name in the bible by god saying, “I fucking hate Jack Nicholson.”  I mean, where’s the dodge there?  That is some mercy free shit right there, that is original gangsta shit.  What are the chances he gets to heaven?

42. Divorce (Malachi 2:14-16)  Clearly god is other-guys-sperm phobic.  Two people don’t hate divorce, and those are the two unhappy fuckers getting one.

43. The deeds of the Nicolaitans (Revelation 2:6, 15)   Seriously, god is stepping up his shit since Malachi.  “Oh and by the way Mr. President.”  “Yes God?”  “I fuckign Hate Texans.”  “You and me both God.”  I guess technically he hates their deeds.  Imagine shouting that.  “Oooh I just hate your deeds!”  I have a five on the Nicolaitans being some wicked motherfuckers, any takers?

44. You shall not set up a sacred pillar, which the LORD your God hates (Deuteronomy 16:22). I was waiting for the sacred pillar!  I fucking hate that thing too!  Nice!  God saves it by calling out the pillar!  Just when you thought he was giving the pillar a pass.  Not this time pillar, you’re on notice.  When is the last time a sacred pillar got set up?  Anyone?  Anyone at all?

45. I hate, I despise, your feast days (Amos 5:21).  Dinner?  Is he talking about dinner?  I have never gone to a feast, again, wtf?  How bad could the cooking have been, really?  And what are we missing?  What went on at these feasts! 

46.  Your new moons and your appointed feasts My soul hates. (Isaiah 1:14).  Sweet Gregor Mendel, god is handing this fucker his ass and some 10th level Hate of the Ages.  Unless by Your he means like, Bosnia.  Then it would make perfect sense.  Bosnian food sucks.  I Hate Bosnian food.  As for the New Moons, They are his moons right?  Or maybe it was like Month End.  He hated month end accounting shit, or New Moons was like another one of these feasts.

Don’t think for a second that god is this stupid.  People are fucking stupid.  The people who said this shit about god are stupid.  If there is a god, his commentary on this bullshit would be longer, funnier, more insightful, the dialogue would have ruled and something tells me, God has a wicked side too and is the author of humor and laughter and shit that generally makes you happy and this world not such a dark and dangerous place. 


Things I wish God hated, but apparently doesn’t cuz nowhere in the bible is it written that he hates them.  Plenty of talk about people with imaginary abilities, God totally hates those guys.
1.    People who prey upon, lonely, fearful, weak or otherwise impressionable people.  You may include/substitute the following for prey upon also; take advantage of, intentionally mislead, coerce, confuse, do not protect, abandon.

2.    People who enjoy the pain of others.  This would include emotional pain etc.

3.    People who kill people when it is not in the defense of themselves, loved ones or the people referred to in 1.

      I bet I could come up with some other things but I think if the Hate of God came with like a small caliber bullet to the stomach, it would mean more to people.  I think if all the people that fell into this category were shot in the stomach with a small caliber bullet and then treated as they have been treating that got them shot in the gut by God in the first place, I think you could maybe salvage some of those people.  I think that God could take those other people away, you know the ones that suck pretty much, and let them all suck together in some nether reality that could be small and easy to maintain and certainly much less effort to create then hell or outer darkness or heaven or limbo or whatever.