God needs to come back and stop abandoning the Jews

you guys, you guys. (first of all, nothin against Jews, i love jews. Their curly hair and delicious…uh…delicious…uh…food….ummm….OH I KNOW, their awesome little hats! make them okay in my book!)

Evan has always told me that circumcision is weird. But I never really bought it until I was driving home from work yesterday and I was listening to an NPR conversation about hardcore modern-day-leftist Jewish people from California wondering if they really and truly wanted to mutilate their baby boy’s genitals for some crazy forgotten promise made by God a billion years ago.

So basically some schizophrenic prophet-type thought that God said, “Genesis 17:9-10 And God said unto Abraham, Thou shalt keep my covenant therefore, thou, and thy seed after thee in their generations. This is my covenant, which ye shall keep, between me and you and thy seed after thee; Every man child among you shall be circumcised.”

For those of you not properly versed in God-Speak, essentially God said, “You can be my people and be saved and shiznit, as long as you CUT THE FORESKINS OFF OF ALL OF YOUR MALE BABIES on the 8th day after their birth. Right after you stone all the gays and the divorcees. With big, jagged rocks.”

When I heard that on NPR, I just started giggling uncontrollably. I mean, I’m all about free religion and believe-whatever-you-want, but just the thought that in order to go to Heaven the tip of your foreskin has to be missing was just hilarious to me. I’m pretty sure that Abraham, or whoever it was, had a hearing problem. Seriously: Abraham also thought that God wanted him to sacrifice his first born son on the mountaintop, so he brought him up there, all ready with a crazy sharp knife and some rope, and then God was all, “JK, LULZ, HAHA, SUCKA!!!!!! Just a test! Go back down the mountain and write a poem about this.”

So, pretty sure God didn’t do that. I mean, LOL wasn’t even invented until 1992 A.D., and then LULZ wasn’t invented until 2008 sometime. Must have been Abraham misinterpreting his voices. I bet God actually said, “I’ll save all y’all, as long as you are CIRCUMSPECT in your decisions regarding your penii.”

If you don’t get that, please go to http://www.dictionary.com and draw your own conclusions.

But, since Abraham was a crazy motha, he heard what he wanted to hear, and then wrote it down in his personal diary, and somehow it made it into the history books, and as a result, billions of poor Jewish baby boys had their foreskins removed for the next several thousands of years.

Let’s just engage in some modern-day comparisons for a moment, shall we?

So, let’s say there was some psycho cult in western Iowa. And, let’s say that one of them really and truly believed that God came and spoke to them. And then let’s say, that God told them they were all saved, as long as they cut off their female babies’ labia on the 5th day after they were born. And let’s say that all of these people started doing this.

Okay.

I am pretty sure the NAACP, the ACLU, slate.com, and women in general would all be like, “OH HELL NAH,” and then they would descend like a crazy hornets nest on the cult and denounce them for the psycho crazies that they were.

And it would be called GENITAL MUTILATION and they would be ordered to stop doing it. So. How is penile circumcision any different (other than the fact that it is an effective preventive against the transmission of HIV/AIDS, but thats another story)? Well, penile circumcision does happen to be a million years old or whatever, whilst labial mutilation would only be like, two weeks old. Still. Does the age of something make it okay?

People. Everyone needs to rethink why the mutilate their child’s penii. CIRCUMCISION IS WEIRD. WE DO IT BECAUSE SOME CRAZY DUDE THINKS GOD TOLD HIM TO DO IT A BAZILLION YEARS AGO.

This is not okay.

Also, while we’re discussing Jews, wasn’t what happened in Germany in the 1930s and 1940s way worse than what happened in Egypt in, like, 2000 B.C. ? Isn’t it time that God reappeared again and renewed the covenant, with something like, “oh hay Guys, sorry I abandoned yall for that decade, I was on vacay on Galaxy 91350EXYTI, IT WAS DA BOMB, falling stars all OVER the place! but my homies in the New World saved yall, so we cool? we cool! be fruitful and multiply, amigos! Oh, P.S., I really didn’t intend for anyone to cut off anyone’s penis, SORRY BOUT THAT.”

That’s what should happen. srsly. If God exists, he should really first apologize for abandoning his people in the mid 20th century, and then he should stick around to clarify a bunch of stuff. Like, what was the point of turning that poor woman into a pillar of salt? Why was Jesus so nice, but everyone in the Old Testament was such a freakin a-hole? How come he invented McDonalds? Why do Jewish people wear those silly little hats?

i have a million other questions for God. If he shows up, you let me know. I’m gonna go Alex Trebec on his ass.

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Jesus exploded in my mouth the other day.

I have unfortunately come to realize in the past couple of days that I am no better than Mark Zuckerberg.

I, too, eat my best friends for breakfast.

I never meant to make my tomatoes my best friends. “Firm separation between garden life and love life,” I said. “Nothing good ever comes out of mixing personal and garden relationships.” Little did I know how this mantra would get blasted out of the water as soon as I caught my first glimpse of greenery poking out of the dirt.

In the beginning, all I wanted was a strong, healthy garden. The Garden Guru says to talk to your plants. So I talked to my plants. First I started with the radishes, then later I moved on to my tomato plants. Remember these guys?

Unfortunately, what often starts out as innocent conversation, eventually turns into maybe getting a beer together after work, and then eventually it becomes late night chats, and then all of a sudden you’re fantasizing about whether or not Cherry the cherry tomato plant would be a good spooner, or if Sherry the Beefsteak tomato plant might provide a little more cushion.¬† And then finally…you start baring the deepest, darkest parts of your soul.

Here’s how it happened for me: As soon as I saw that healthy little green sucker come shooting out of the dirt, all of the firm barriers I’d thrown up between garden/personal life immediately came melting down. I spent hours sitting in front of my tomato plants. At first we just idly chatted. Harry was jealous of Sherry’s top leaves. Sherry was jealous that Cherry got to sit closest to the window. Cherry thought I spent too much time chit chattering with Harry. But as we ran out of trivial things to discuss, I began digging into deeper fears. I wondered aloud about whether or not i was really getting osteoporosis at the tender age of 26. I asked them if they really and truly thought that they’d help me get blog-famous (they said yes! stupid sycophants). They confirmed that yes, that shirt really did make my boobs look too big but no, I really shouldn’t get a breast reduction. (Harry helpfully added that all of my jeans made my butt look too flat, and I huffily replied that those weren’t my jeans, it was just my butt, and then we endured the first awkward silence of our hitherto¬† honeymoon relationship).

Why, you may ask, Why did Evan not put a stop to this madness? Surely he must have known of the deep and abiding emotional attachment you were forming with these mere plants? These…these…these homewrecking, tomato producing, invaders!

Evan knew nothing. I put my cell phone on silent and held it up to my ear, pretending to talk to my mom, or to Clare, or to Elena, but really just talking to my tomato plants. It was quite deceptive. <avoided forced trip to mental hospital><pats self on back>

Eventually my besties started growing. Then, they grew big enough for their very first perma-week of sunlight!

Now, if i wanted to talk to them, I had to walk the ten yards out to the yard. Despite this significant obstacle, I went outside every day. Cherry, Sherry, and Harry would pop their little leaf-heads up at my approach, struggling to look a little taller and fluff their leaves out a bit. Sometimes, I’d go out with a measuring stick and I’d mark their names down on the ruler, with their age and date. Soon, they were all competing with each other for my attention. I organized photo-synthesizing contests, water drinking contests, anti-leaf mold contests. Harry Cherry and Sherry all struggled to do so well. My love for them grew in leaps and bounds. I even bought a best-friend heart necklace, broken into several different pieces, and each of them wears a piece of my heart around their leaf-neck.

We were in love.

The thought that someday I’d have to eat their babies crossed my mind every once in a while, but I just pushed that thought to the back of my mind. “They’re young,” I thought. “The day they bear fruit won’t happen for a while. I can enjoy their childhood and love them while it lasts.”

Oh, how terribly, terribly wrong I was.

It happened two days ago.

I came home from work. I popped out of my car, and Harry Cherry and Sherry all immediately started waggling their leaves at me, eager for me to come over and show me the cool new things that they’d done. At first, I just oohed and aahhed.

Those big green tomatoes were far too ripe for me to do anything about them. But then Sherry mentioned an itch she was having in one of her branch crotches, and as I leaned over to get to that hard-to-reach spot, a flash of red caught my eye and I glanced upwards.

Stars fell from the sky. Victory music blasted from the radio of a car driving by. A starving orphan in Africa was adopted by Angelina Jolie. They cured cancer. Rupert Murdoch was never born.

My tomatoes were edible.

All thoughts of how Cherry Sherry and Harry felt about my eating their babies fled from my mind. Shakily, and without permission, I reached out one hand and plucked that ripe little sucker right off of the vine and crunched down with my omnivorous molars, releasing the magic of sun, dirt, water, seeds and time into my body. Such joy, such a taste of Heaven, has never been experienced.

Jesus himself exploded in my mouth.

But wait…isn’t that the only time that cannibalism is acceptable? Is when you eat Jesus? That’s what I was brainwashed taught every Wednesday at CCD classes growing up, and thats what I’m reminded of every time I go home to visit my parents and am subjected to Catholic Radio Theology blasting through the house beginning at the ungodly hour of 7 am. On Saturdays. And Sundays.

Therefore, since Harry Cherry and Sherry were giving birth to little baby Jesuses, then it was totally okay to eat them! IN FACT. Every time I eat a little baby Jesus, I am forgiven all of my sins. Especially when I follow this up with the washing of someone else’s foot. Feet. whatever.

I’M TOTALLY GOIN’ TO HEAVEN, Y’ALL!

with my plants!

27 years ago, Mark Zuckerberg ate his womb-twin. Now he eats his employees for breakfast.

Ladies and gentleman.

Yesterday I was alerted to a horrifying new development in Mark Zuckerberg’s infamous pursuit of eccentricity.

Apparently, one of Mark Zuckerberg’s favorite pastimes is committing to a project for an entire year. These have included: wearing a tie every single day, learning Mandarin Chinese, and this year, apparently, he has committed to only eating meat he has killed himself.

It started out innocently enough. After watching Food Inc from the safety of his leather-encased home mega-theatre and in the ironic company of a bowl of Orville Redenbachers Ultra-Buttery popcorn, Zuckerberg, like all good liberal American 20 somethings, quickly began to feel shame and remorse about eating meat and non-organic vegetables and grains. Later, he overheard one of his coworkers talking about Eating Animals, and he was even more perturbed about the horrific slaughtering of the food that he ate off of his quadruple-gold-platinum-titanium clad plates and flatware every day.

unjust slaughtering of wilbur

Naturally, this was anathema to Mark. You see, Mark had grown up friendless, with only Disney characters to keep him company. You don’t get to be CEO of one of the world’s hugest companies by being friendly. No. The Social Network taught us that. (Poor Winkelman twins.) Anyway. One of Mark’s most favorite imaginary friends was Charlotte, of Charlotte’s Web, and since Charlotte’s most favorite friend was Wilbur, Mark thus also loved Wilbur. All of those years of his eating meat, he never made the connection between meat and dead animal — totally understandable, since when you go to the store, you don’t see pictures of dead animals, you just see packaged raw meat. WHO KNEW THAT STUFF CAME FROM ANIMALS BEFORE FOOD INC CAME OUT? When he finally figured out that he had been EATING his MOST BESTEST childhood friend all of those years, he puked in his mouth a little bit. And he resolved to himself not that he would stop eating his most bestest friend, but that he would only eat his most bestest friend if he could kill it himself. Because this is how Mark Zuckerberg’s mind works.

i know there are several things wrong with the perspective of this picture but you'll just have to use your imagination

And thus Mark developed a taste for killing.

Unfortunately, it soon started to grate on him. What kind of a person was he, that he could kill his best friends and then EAT them? He started having nightmares. Wilbur came to him in his dreams, crying, asking “WHY? WHY? After all of those years, and those songs! oh!” Mark started showing up to work with bags under his eyes, his hoodies on inside out, and mismatched flip-flops. People were worried, but nobody wanted to ask. Weeks went by, with Mark shut in his glass-encased super-mod office, where he brooded over his unjust killing of his best friends. Silently, he alienated those who were closest to him: Mary, who brought him coffee, Charlie, who stood in front of him in the lunch line, and Bertha, who cleaned the bottoms of his Armani flip flops. Even the Taiwanese dry cleaning lady noticed a hunch in his shoulders when he picked up the one suit that he owns.

It was when Mark started watching Season 3 of Dexter that he finally realized the problem. You’re supposed to kill your enemies, not your best friends! With a new, discerning attitude, Mark swept his eyes around the office. A young brunette in Accounting who’d previously spurned his late-night sexual advances laughed flirtatiously with John in Customer Service. Teresa in International Product Development gossiped with Mary in Public Relations, their heads bent together secretly, confidentially. And the CFO and COO whispered together about something, frantically waving their hands. They were all against him. Mark knew it. Nobody was his friend. Nobody whispered with him like that. Nobody laughed flirtatiously with him. Mark pounded his fist on his table. The world was black and white to Mark: if you weren’t his friend, you were his enemy. He heard the word “google plus” drop out of the conversation between the CFO and COO, and he knew they plotted to overthrow this company he’d crafted with HIS OWN BARE HANDS.

Well, they were about to see what else he could do with his own bare hands.

The reasoning went thus: why was it okay to kill your best friends and then eat them, but if you killed your enemies, you had to bury them? This made no sense to Mark. Instead, he reasoned, let your best friends live, and eat your enemies! The general social antipathy towards cannibalism was unfounded, Mark thought. It made sense to eat those who opposed you. It was just evolution, but more advanced. Mark silently praised his own out-of-the-box thinking, the same thinking that led to his domination of the world social empire. This, he thought, would revolutionize food, save animals, and rid the world of lesser human beings.

As the days passed, Facebook employees started disappearing. The bags under Mark’s eyes started lightening up. The dry cleaning lady noticed a general perkiness in his attitude. His personal flip-flop cleaner stopped thinking about going back to school and started taking pride in his work, working for a man with such a congenial attitude. And the lunch line was filled with laughter again.

Mark never knew the true reason behind his ready acceptance of cannibalism. You see, if you look very closely at his right shoulder, what he has always thought to be a protruding freckle is actually a tiny fetus penis, leftover from 27 years ago in the womb, when he ate his twin fetus, gaining dominion over the womb and setting him on the path to greatness.