It seems I’ve been going about this “religion” thing all wrong. Thank goodness for late-nite televangelists, or not ONLY would I be going to hell, but I’d never get the Most Holy Aga 6-Burner Range of my dreams.
I just hope you have room for all the livestock.
You are perhaps confused, because you have not been watching enough late-nite televangelists. I will clarify. Also: I SWEAR I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP. Consider this a public service announcement.
I’m innocently watching a Proactiv infomercial at 3:04AM, when the infomercial abruptly cuts off and a televangelist comes on. So now not only will I never know what Doctors’ Rodin and Fields latest cosmeceutical* breakthrough is, but I’ve got to watch a hyperactive sweaty guy yelling about Jesus and pretending to heal people by manhandling their heads. Still, in the name of anthropological research, I thought I would watch.
Eventually, the show switched from a tent revival to hyperactive sweaty televangelist talking right to the camera, and this is where the nutjob shitball awesomeness goes off the fucking charts. Because here’s the thing: God does not simply want to heal you and welcome you to bask in His eternal glory. He also wants to give you COLD HARD CASH, and possibly buy you a bedroom set. And you know the bedroom set would be killer, because God is all-knowing and would not pick out some tacky-ass black lacquer headboard from Value City Furniture.
*Actual word invented by the informercial people.
To get your hands on your new Tempurpedic, you have to know how to access God. Which you might think would be through fervent prayer, but you would be WRONG. This is why you are still poor and miserable.
To access God, you have to drink the MIRACLE SPRING WATER that only hyperactive sweaty televangelist can provide you. If you drink the MIRACLE SPRING WATER* and eat the MIRACLE MANNA** – which totally looks like that elf bread from Lord of the Rings, but I’m sure that’s just a coincidence – and follow the instructions hyperactive sweaty guy will send you, you will open yourself up to a DIVINE WEALTH TRANSFER.
Sometimes a divine wealth transfer will manifest as a windfall like a winning lottery ticket or success playing the ponies. Other times, it means you get your dream home or a new refrigerator and dining room table (also known as “Divine Furnishings”***). but other times God will just direct-deposit the dough right into your bank account. For reals!
You’re probably saying to yourself, “This is insane! Hyperactive sweaty guy is preying on the needy and gullible! It’s a travesty!” My response to you is twofold: One, this aired on TLC. Surely a network calling itself the LEARNING channel would not knowingly broadcast lies. Second, you obviously are not up on your Bible, because the biblical precedent for DIVINE WEALTH TRANSFER couldn’t be more plain.
And Abram went up out of Egypt, he, and his wife, and all that he had, and Lot with him, into the south. And Abram was very rich in cattle, in silver, and in gold. (Genesis 13:2)
Don’t go all theologian on me and try to tell me that Abram was actually blessed with spiritual riches. The Old Testament says what it says; Jesus and his cryptic parables don’t show up until later. Abram was the first recipient of a DIVINE WEALTH TRANSFER. And you could be next!
I have several thoughts.
- The whole idea of a wealth transfer, even if it’s instigated by the Christian God, will surely piss off conservative republicans, and that makes me want it to be true. Hey man, this isn’t class warfare! It’s DIVINE WEALTH TRANSFER! Perhaps the democrats could look into this as a way to re-frame the discussion on tax policy.
- Part of me wants the DIVINE WEALTH TRANSFER to parallel what God gave Abram more specifically. Like, you drink the water, and the next day you get a letter informing you that a great-aunt has died and left her herd of 200 goats to you, or a sack of gold ingots shows up in your coat closet.
- I wonder if the “miracle” of the MIRACLE SPRING WATER is that the televangelist’s condo association doesn’t notice what a disproportionate amount of water his unit is using, because he’s sending out a LOT of bottles.
After much prayer, contemplation and beer, I’ve discovered my own connection to the Lord, and I’m working on trying to decipher what gifts He will offer you through me. So far, all I know is that you have to write to me for instructions on how to prepare the Most Sacred Muffins, based on the same recipe used by St. Catherine of Siena when she brought a muffin basket to the schismatic pope Gregory XI in Avignon. Then you eat the muffin, and you get to remain fertile into your 99th year. Divine Reproductive Enhancement! Or something.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot; I also did a Smackdown tonight: Gerard’s mustard tart from Dorie Greenspan’s Around My French Table. I got the book from Amazon the other week when they had that crazy glitch that caused it to be packaged with Baking: From My Home to Yours for $5.87.
Whoa, a thought: could that extreme bargain be my divine windfall? If it is, I am PISSED OFF. Random lady with a crappy weave gets $180,000 in stock, and I get this? I call bullshit, God.
Anyway, the tart was great. Possibly Brian and I ate the entire 8 servings ourselves, although you’ll never get me to admit it. The tart shell was perfection – this is Dorie Greenspan, so that’s not really a shock – and the sweet leeks and carrots were well-paired with a custard fortified with lots of mustard and creme fraîche.
But food, schmood, there is BIG MONEY on the line, so drink up! What are you going to do with your share of the divine wealth?