Pat Robertson Says God Wants a Whole Bunch of Us To Die:
It always depends on which book he has his Bible opened to while he masturbates. For if Pat Robertson has pulled down his pants and silk underwear, grabbed his demi-tumescent penis and begun yanking, diligently, mechanically to, say, the Song of Solomon, well, chances are when he cums, dribbling a drop or two of his lazy semen onto the stiff pages of his Good Book, God'll tell him something wondrous, like that George Bush will be re-elected. If he's jackin' it to tales of doomed Sodom, wildly smacking his meat at the thought of rows of naked Arabs fucking each other's brown asses in defiance of the Lord, chances are God's gonna whisper in his ear about how homosexuals are destroying this fair nation of ours.

A couple of nights ago, Robertson celebrated the new year by opening his sticky Bible to the less worn New Testament and yanking his meat to the Gospel of John, the crucifixion scene, his mind a miasma of images from the words of the ancients and the film of the Gibson, Christ's pain and screaming giving him something not unakin to a full erection, his cock like a spitting camel at the end. And God spoke to him, and God told him a horrible thing, but something that, to his mind, was just an inevitability, like the nailing of the Son of God.

As he told the viewers of his 700 Club infomercial, leaving out the part about choking his chicken in a kind of mock animal sacrifice, God told Pat Robertson that disaster awaits the United States at the end of this shiny new year in the form of a terrorist attack on a major city that will involve "mass killing." God wasn't really definite about what exactly would happen, 'cause, you know, why bother? But that didn't stop Robertson, hands flaking dead skin and dried spooge, from interpreting: "I'm not necessarily saying it's going to be nuclear...The Lord didn't say nuclear. But I do believe it will be something like that."

Now, the Rude Pundit isn't sure, but his experience in watching the 700 Club involved a whole lot of prayers to this "God" fella about interceding in the earthly affairs of everything from Presidential elections to old women in Alabama with rickets. So apparently, this "God" can sort of work his sky wizard magic trickery and change things for people. If he's sayin' there's gonna be a mass killing to Pat Robertson, shouldn't he be following that up with, "But don't worry, Pat. I've got your back." And, like, you know, use his God-dy mojo to stop it. Unless, of course, as is his tricky wont, he wants lots of Americans to die. So very complicated trying to figure out the ways of invisible sky wizards.

But that hasn't stopped the media from breathlessly reporting on Pat Robertson's conversation with God, as if we should all give a holy ratfuck about it, as if the delusions of a single man are real. Front page of the Fox "News" website. CNN, too. Giving his mindless ejaculations prominence and relevance as, like every pride-filled child, Pat Robertson points to his boner and smiles.