Critical Mass

Lord have mercy on us, Christ have mercy upon us, Lord have mercy upon us. And not pity disguised as mercy, like last time: real mercy.

Glory to God in eggshells, and on earth peace to people of good will, if you can find any. We praise you, we bless you, we fellate you, we adore you, because you certainly are adorable—though you might want to work on your pickup lines. 

We just have a few tiny suggestions for your future works, Lord God, heavenly King, and so forth. Lord Jesus Christ, only begotten Son, and so forth: You take away the sins of the world, but doing so only after the world commits them is nothing short of cruel. It's exasperating: we pray and pray and pray; you are seated at the right hand of the Father. (Does he still call you "bailiff" to piss you off? That was so cute.) You alone are the holy one (you alone will stand against the vampires, the demons,  blah blah biddy blah, I'm so stuffy, give me a scone) and this world is the best you and Big Daddy and the Spook can come up with?

I believe in one God, or possibly Three: the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth, of all things visible and invisible, including bargain basement crap like crooked spines and decaying teeth and shriveling maculae and putting in one friggin' intake tube for two different sources of fuel.

I believe in one Lord, and Jesus Christ, is He a pain in the ass. God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made... who wrote this shit? Does anybody know what it even means? Oh, no: it's a "mystery" [spooky hands]. Anyway. For us men and for our salvation He came down from heaven (on a clearly visible wire), and by the Holy Spirit was incarnate of the Virgin Mary (brown chicken brown cow!) and became man. For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate, which must have been uncomfortable for them both. He suffered death—or rather say WE suffered through it, so ridiculously long he drew it out...

I nearly demanded a refund of the ticket price—and was buried, and rose again on the third day (a trite plot point recycled from The Prestige) in accordance with a hack writer who couldn't pull an original story out of his ass if Isaac Singer were living in his rectum. He ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father, which we got the FIRST time it was dropped in exposition. He will come again in glory (note to costumer: sequins =/= glory) to judge the living and the dead and his kingdom will have no end, much like this farce. Seriously, when already? Dude, you are 1,981 years backed up on foot-washings. Dépêche-toi.

 Oh yeah, just like that. Oh, fuck yeah. Christ, you're so good.

I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life, who proceeds from the Father and the Son, who with the Father and the Son is adored and glorified, blah blah blah. Yeah, I don't know who this character is either, or why he's always hovering around the action with a sheet over his head. I think it's a post-postmodern thing.

I believe in one holy, catholic and apostolic Church. I confess that one baptism scene, with the drowned baby, was a sin not to be forgiven, and I look forward to the resurrection of the dead career of the author of all life of the world to come. Amen.

Holy, holy, holy shit, this "Lord God" guy is our host? Why haven't we heard from him since ever? Heaven and earth, he's full of himself. With all that omnipotence, you'd think he could manage a creation without, say, cancer, or greed, or Tim Burton. Hosanna in the highest... the highest what? "Hosanna banana fanna faux-sanna" in the highest giggling helium voice, is what you get from me. And for an encore...