Dear God,

 The end less toils of teenage existence can be waring. Me, I just masturbate. Like five, six times a day. Sometimes it can get difficult, but Vaseline and the Victoria’s Secret catalogue can do wonders. Anyways, God, there was this cute girl who I go to school with that I really liked, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask her out. I got real depressed, and started yanking my wanker even more. Then the other day I found out she liked me! I was so excited I started spanking it almost constantly! On our first date, we went to a movie, and afterwards, we got back to her house. We started making out and then she went down on me. She jerked me off for almost an hour, but I couldn’t get it up! God are you punishing me for my constant monkey spanking or is this punishment for my teenage makeout shenannigans? Or am I just gay?

    Signed,
    Spanky Anderson

Dear Spanky,

 Boy, have you got problems. I don’t know where you learned or who taught you to beat off, but they sure did forget to tell you a lot. First of all, your problem is you don’t masturbate enough! Five, six time a day, is that  it?!?! How do you expect to get into the kingdom of heaven with such meager masturbatory meanderings? Second, you’re not even using the proper techniques! Vaseline, and a Vicky’s Catalog?  Try a meat grinder and a pack of aroused woodchucks!!! What the hell did they teach at that religious school, Spanky? Well, if you need any more advice you could always consult a nun, they are friendly, and many will even show you the techniques that will make you master of your domain.  And by the way – yes, you are gay, I just changed that little aspect of your life five minutes ago, because you brought it up!  Flame on, Spanky!

Dear God,

   The walls are bleeding again!  You promised to make them stop after I sacrificed that busload of nuns on Millersport last week.  Well I did it! And guess what?  They’re still bleeding!  Why, why did you make me do this?  I had to crash my new Pathfinder to kill those damn penguins!  I thought nuns worked for you!?  Well, when I got home and found my wife drowning in God knows who’s blood from the fucking walls, I realized I’d been deceived by you yet again!  Who’s paying for my new Pathfinder, Mr. Ubiquitous, hmmmmm?!?!  Not the insurance company, oh, no!!  No way in hell am I reporting this little incident to them!  Make the walls stop menstruating, and send me at least $20,000 for my totalled car, or I hire Vinnie Da Whale to find you and pop a cap in your godly ass!!!

    Signed,
    Seeing Red

P.S. Is waxed dental floss harmful to my pearly whites?

Dear Seeing Red,

Woah, woah, woah, hold on and breathe deep you damn schizo!  I think you’ve got the wrong god.  I...uhhhhh, well I could make your walls bleed if I really wanted to, but in this case, I claim no responsibility.  I’m honestly a damn nice deity when it comes down to it, I stay out of people’s lives, and they stay out of mine, like God should do. (Unless of course I’m bored and have a few thunderbolts left over, or I’m horny.)  But guess what, Mr. Accuser, you pissed my godly ass off!!!  Do you realize who you’re fucking with, you damned brown, shoten herring, woolsack, clay-brained, knotty-pated, foul mouthed and calumnious knave?!?!  Crouch down in fear, and I might not ingest your blasphemous soul right this fucking second!  Dammit!  That’s what you get for doing cheap acid and buying a Nissan! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!!!!  God doesn’t know who’s blood that is, but God knows He is going to have fun discussing what to do with your soul – and even more fun, your physical body--with his friends on poker night!  You’re going to be a janitor in the afterlife too, dickweed!  As for Vinnie Da Whale, he works for my close associate (Da Devil), so my ass is covered!  Besides, Vinnie can’t walk in the clouds after his operation anyways.  My advice to you is, YOU’RE FUCKED!!!  But yes, waxed dental floss will do you in, so switch to something safer you po’ bastard.