I originally posted this as a response in the mailbag room but in all my ego felt it deserved its own spot. How I killed god and broke my bed.

I had to be honest with myself by viewing god as an angry drunk. Come along with me on this very short trip. The all knowing god creates the angels and man knowing ahead of time what they will do. Lucifer believes himself to be equal to god, is cast out of heaven to wreak havoc on man starting at the original sin. Because of original sin man suffers and dies until the second coming when god's son will make it all better.

So to me god sounds like a dysfunctional drunk who wanted to see suffering and now his son is trying to fix it but can only do so when the vast majority of mankind is wiped out.

Now tell me again why Lucifer shouldn't be angry at god?

This is the god that cares so much for us?

This is why Christians are hard to reason with. They are in a co-dependant relationship with a very dysfunctional yet all powerful father figure.

Like the abused wife on cops who just got punched in the eye by their drunk husband, they will in fact turn right around and bail him out over and over and over again. Now with a drunk husband the wife may stay in it until he finally whips her ass so bad he goes to jail, she runs away, he kills her or she kills him. With Christians however, they are usually in it for the long haul because, of course, god is all powerful so running away or fighting back is futile.

I am one of the lucky survivors. I found that you can kill god. He only existed in my mind so it was easier than I thought. It was in fact as easy as a thought.

Now for the boogieman that lives under my bed. I need help with this because I'm a big guy and the other night, while I was in the process of turning off the light switch and taking a running jump into my bed, I misjudged the landing, broke two slats in the bed frame, over shot and took the lamp off the night stand and knocked a hole in the wall. Thankfully I'm not injured but the trip to home depot is going to put a dent in my wallet.

Now some of you may say the boogieman doesn't exist but my big sister told me when I was a kid that he did and I know I can trust her. I haven't ever actually see him but I know he's there. I can just feel it. Sometimes there are little bumps in the night, or maybe my shoes wont be just like I left them or well, now I'm probably just starting to sound silly to you.

So for me when people speak of god, I don't see some majestic being, I see some drunk ass tweakin hillbilly in a dirty wife beater standing in front of his rickety mobile home with the Dale Earnhardt memorial NASCAR blanket that has been hung over the window so you can't see the meth lab.

Your god can kiss my ass!

TheGrapeOfWrath

Ps. No offense to hillbillies. I'm an Okie, but I'm no dumb Okie.