Indeed, Perry's official Proclamation for Days of Prayer for Rain in Texas -- thusly issued after a staggering drought has ravaged the state for months, ruined crops, devastated local economies and dropped reservoir levels to record lows -- might at first glance induce, as it most certainly did for me, a chortle and gasp at the governor's somewhat mindless view of God; it might first make you think, "Oh Rick, you loveably despicable hunk of right wing chuzpah, you. Don't you know such peculiar entreaties just make God roll her eyes and laugh?"
She likes us better than you, Texas. Our drought is officially over after this past winter. Suck it, bitchez.
Ah, existential irony. Jesus loves that stuff.
But oh, poor Jesus, once again caught in the twee crossfire of mankind's terrible lack of imagination, once again reduced to a petty deity stuck way out there off the cosmic turnpike, a judgmental, lopsided hooligan who actually gives a damn about things like rainfall, and touchdowns, and borders, and math, and political parties, and gender, and whether or not you understand that the Second Coming has nothing whatsoever to do with bazooka-wielding angels blasting everyone into fiery smithereens, and everything to do with, you know, waking up.
But hey, if it will help, and before the apocalypse comes, I'll happily join right in and offer up a prayer for some rain for Texas, too. I'm sure the governor won't mind some liberal, left-coast, pro-gay, pro-sex, pro-choice, tantric-inspired love, right? I'm sure he'd happily do the same for San Francisco, right? We're all one, after all. Right?
See you at the Rapture. I'll bring the whisky.
Yeah, I'll be sittin' on my seabag all ready for that. Yeesh.