Ann, Ann, you Me-less slut!
This is your God speaking Ann, and your God is pissed. It's not just that your book is a hate-crime. It's not just that you slather My name all over same. Nor even that like the other inhuman slime that calls itself 'conservative', you attack the grieving and helpless for your own advancement.
What sticks in My Infinite Craw Ann, is that we both know perfectly well you've never believed in Me for a nano-second. I'm just a convenient syllable in another of your fatuous screeds, all of which operate on the same facile switcheroo - turning decency and humanity on its head for money. A formula what's more, which is old as the hills. PJ O'Rourke squeezed all the juice out of that particular garbage bag years ago with crap like 'Give War a Chance'.
But at least PJ didn't have the gall to pose as a Christian.
It takes a lot to get My wrath rolling Ann, but you've done it. I reiterate - you're an opportunistic infidel Me-damn Me-less slut!
But these days people care less about massive hypocrisy than they do about the dirt. So let's get into those little goodies only you and I know, Ann...
That you've broken every vibrator you've ever owned. (The doorman at your East Side place keeps a collection. Some are crushed flat, he says, some snapped in two). So I suppose that's not a real secret. But this one is just between you and me:
That can't you keep a man or have kids, because you're literally inhuman - a cold-blooded vertebrate, a bipedal reptile, a hilarious genetic joke. How would your millions of pinheaded fans feel if they knew that you were actually...an advanced form of velociraptor? That you never wear backless outfits because there are vestigial leathery batwings sprouting from your shoulder-blades? That even if some male could fertilize you you'd lay eggs? That if those eggs hatched you'd eat your young? Because that's what you're hardwired to do, Ann, you poor little velociraptor, you.
Ironic that an evolutionary hiccup would make all those idiot cracks you make about Darwinism. But see Ann, I don't like people knocking evolution. It's one of the aspects of My creation that I'm proudest of. A totally brilliant invention. As My Son put it in a recent book about his Second Coming: "evolution is the best argument there is for intelligent design."
I especially take exception to people who know perfectly well that evolution's an inescapable fact, but question it because they can make more money off fools and bigots by pretending it's not. Once again Ann, it's not your opinions I object to, so much as your Me-damn hypocrisy.
What's good about your being an evolutionary dead-end street is that once you're gone - and Me knows that won't be long! - the planet will never again have to endure another Ann.
Speaking of your death I have a special Hell reserved for you. Oh Me, is it juicy! I won't tell you what exactly because your surprise is gonna be half the fun. Not just what your Hell looks like, but who else is there with you. (Hint: a lot of folks who pretend to like you now - but won't when they find out where it got them).
Of course you might avoid it if you'd stop with the killing stuff: 'we should invade their countries, kill their leaders and convert them to Christianity' 'we need to execute John Walker to physically intimidate liberals, by making them realize that they can be killed, too.' Or that moronic thing about poisoning Justice Stevens. How would you do it, o witch? With an apple?
What is it about Thou shalt not kill or Love your enemies you don't get Ann? I kept it simple. Three or four words so that even the bow-tied morons you hang with would have no wiggle room. These are my Rules; there are no exceptions.
It baffles my Infinite Mind that you can call yourself pro-life when every other word that comes out of your beak is 'kill'
Ann, you don't know Me. You've never spoken to Me in the 45 years of your twisted, spoilt-brat existence. You don't believe in Me or any of My works least of all that being the God of love the only thing I hate is hate - the force that drives every cell in your bony sunken-faced velociraptor frame. Yours is a faith of convenience shining bright - and about as deep - as aluminum foil.
I have a simple message for you and all your fellow inhumans on what you call 'the right' (Actually I've always been rather partial to My Right Hand and I resent you appropriating the term). Here it is: you and yours do not speak for me Ann. Especially not you, the apostle of death and hatred. And nor do those Americans who call themselves My Chosen My Elect, My Born-again. (They're in for a very nasty shock).
I do not bless America Ann, or any other nation. I hate all war but especially wars waged in my name. God is on our side! Gott mit uns! Deus Vult! Allahu Akbar! I am not on America's side, nor Islam's, nor Israel's. I have never been on the British or the German, the Spanish, the Dutch, the Catholic or the Protestant side, I did not uphold the Crusaders, nor Saladin nor the sons of Ali nor the sons of David or Solomon or Alexander or Ptolemy.
I am God, Ann and you are not. And I'm warning you for the last time - SHUT UP!