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COME AGAIN?

Posted in religion,satire by YTAH on October 8, 2008
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NEE, JISSIS, SO KAN DIT NIE AANHOU NIE.

by God

Here God nee. Kyk, mense, laat Ek nou dúidelik wees: Ek het fokkol hiermee te doen gehad. As Ek nie nou die dag by Koos Kombuis se blog ingeloer het nie, was Ek nog stééds in die donker oor die aartappelboer en al die kak wat hy in My naam kwyt raak. Maar dankie, Koos! Ek sal jou nog behoorlik moet bedank dat jy My so laat skater het. Terwyl ek onthou: Die mense van die Simply Heavenly Accommodation Committee het gevra dat Ek jou laat weet “your suite has been upgraded” – wat de hel dít ook al beteken. Jy ken mos die bemarkingtipes. (Ek dink hulle het die ligblou katoenlakens op jou bed met sylakens vervang of iets.) Ek sal kyk of hulle nog van daai klein botteltjies sjampoe in julle kamer kan verskaf. Jirre, Ek laaik daai klein botteltjies mos.

Ek en Koos het glad nie ‘n probleem nie – nog minder as wat Ek met die Dalai Lama het. (Alhoewel Ek wens daai kort vet pokkel wat hy aanbid, wou ophou om al die koek te steel terwyl die res van ons nog slaap. Swak, man! Jy’s alreeds te oorgewig.) Nietemin. Hoe meer Ek oor dié aartappel-profeet leer, hoe minder hou Ek van wat hy te sê het oor weduwees, en ander gelowe, en moffies — en hoe meer raak Ek die moer in.

My probleem is nie eens soseer met die prediker-skepsel nie. (Dit ten spyte daarvan dat sy aanhangers aanhou voorgee dat hy sy cue cards by Mý gekry het, hoeveel loutere onsin dit nou ook mag wees.) My probleem is veel eerder met al die swape wat aan sy woorde hang asof Ek en hy met één stem praat. Snert, mense. Asof dit nie genoeg was dat hulle ‘n fokken boer met ‘n ingeboude weathercock toelaat om vir hulle te vertel wat reg en verkeerd is nie, moet hulle Mý goeie naam nou óók deur die kak sleep. Ek het ook niks te doen gehad met sy besluit om Loftus te huur nie; hy kan Myns insiens fokken sélf daai rekening betaal. As julle geld wil bydra, is dit julle eie donderse stupid-heid. En julle kan nou gerus ophou om My naam in sulke slegte lig te stel deur heeltyd onnosele dinge op comment boards te post. Genugtig, man.

Ek meen, jirre, nee. Kyk, Ek’s nog minder ‘n moffie as wat Ek ‘n weduwee is – Ek meen, as Ek nie van poese gehou het nie, hoekom het Ek dan so baie van hulle gemaak? Maar dis nie asof moffies My ooit leed aangedoen het nie. (Okay, daai Zeus-laaitie het My laas Saterdag in die kroeg se badkamers heeltyd staan en beloer, maar wat verwag jy van daai jagse fokken Grieke?) As ‘n paar makkers nou wil bymekaar kom en piele vleg – of selfs beter, as ‘n paar meisies nou mekaar wil betas – hoekom sou Ek in hulle pad wou staan? Soos Ek nou die dag vir Zeus gesê het: Solank julle ouens nie aan My gat try gryp nie, traak dit My nie. Dis als piéle.

Ek moes seker al lankal geleer het dat julle dose nooit fokken luister nie. Dis net soos daai poepholle wat vir veertig jaar in die woestyn rondgedwaal het. Ek meen, jirre, mense, tien jaar lank sê Ek vir hulle die fokken kompas hang langs die metaalskinkbord, maar niemand steur hulle aan My nie. Maar sodra iemand vir almal begin vertel dat Ek besig is om hulle te straf, dán luister fokken álmal. God. Party mense tog.

Eers was dit Noag wat stories aandra van die komende vloed, en dan moet lieg omdat dit nooit fokken gebeur nie. Later het dit gevoel asof elke tweede donder wat deur woestyn wil trek sonder voorrade óf rigting, ‘n fokken profeet aan die ander kant uitkom. Vir die laaste keer: As jy in die woestyn gaan indonder, dra ‘n fokken hóéd, man, of vat ten minste ‘n sambreel saam. Soos ou Elvis sou sê: “No wonder the heat’s getting to your brain, man.

En selfs láter was dit die NP wat voorgee dat Ek gesê het “Kaffers is benede jou”. Is nie – Ek sou mos nooit so ‘n vieslike woord gebruik nie. Ek het gesê “Die kallers is benede jou”. En Ek was in elk geval nie besig om met hulle te praat nie. Ek was besig om vir Zeus te verduidelik selfs al ís hy nou in die vorm van ‘n bees, beteken dit nie dat hy Krisjna se kallers kan naai nie. (Die arme diere is mos glad nie sulke gedrag gewoond nie.) Só het Verwoerd en sy pêlle dié stelling geheel en al uit verband uit geruk. (Dis hoekom Hennie en sy vriend, ou “Poeswater” Botha, soos die engele hom noem, nou albei die ewigheid deurbring deur op ‘n bed van spykers kak deur ‘n strooitjie te suig.)

Maar nou het dinge heeltemal handuit geruk. Genoeg is genoeg. Dis soos al daai voorskrifte in die Ou Testament. Klink Ek vir julle soos iemand wat die woord “abomination” sou gebruik? So okay, daai kliptablette met die tien reëls, okay, dit was Myne. Maar daai reëls klink vir My nog steeds heel redelik – behalwe natuurlik die een wat sê jy moet jou ouers eerbiedig. Kyk, My oudste was nog klein en Ek was moeg om heeltyd Sy speelgoed agter hom op te tel nadat Ek alreeds twaalf ure lank Sy doeke omgeruil het. Maar nou verstaan Ek darem dat kinders deur verskillende fases gaan en dat ‘n bietjie rebelsheid ook nie die einde van die wereld is nie. Ten minste bewys dit dat hulle ‘n bietjie vir hulself begin dink. Anders as die skape wat agter daai aartappel-kop aanhol.

En daai gebod dat julle nie ander gode voor julle aangesigte mag hê nie was miskien ‘n bietjie selfsugtig, en ietwat van ‘n overreaction – of so sê Zeus heeltyd vir My – maar Ek het destyds nie baie slaap ingekry nie, moet julle onthou. Nietemin hou Ek vol: Niemand behoort ‘n god te aanbid wat heeltyd My hond probeer spyker nie. Ek sweer, as hy dit wéér probeer, gaan Ek sy ballas met een van sy eie weerligstrale aan die brand steek.

Maar in elk geval, om terug te kom by die punt: Hierdie stront hou nou vir lank genoeg aan; nóú moet dit end kry. Laat julle My nou móói verstaan, makkers: Dit was nie Ek nie. Ek het fokkol daarmee te make, Ek het daai goed nóóit gesê nie, en dis nie Mý skuld Paulus se pêlle het kokaïne oor sy pap gestrooi nie. (Hoe anders het hy dan met al daai snert vorendag gekom? Net mense wat met vyf gram van daai wit poeier ge-dose is, sou sulke loutere onsig uitdink.) Ek weet nie wáár die kak begin het nie, maar dit gaan net hier eindig: Net. Fokken. Hier. Verstaan?

En laastens, los nou asseblief vir Koos uit, toe? Hy’s een van die min Afrikaners wat My nog laat lag. Daai hoedgrap was ‘n treffer; die engele lag nog steeds daaroor. Behalwe natuurlik vir Paulus, maar dié lag glad nooit nie. Daai ou vrouehater was nog altyd ‘n bietjie van ‘n doos; nie ‘n dag gaan verby dat Ek nie spyt is dat Ek hom hier toegelaat het nie. Ten minste leer ‘n mens, nes ‘n kind, algaande uit jou foute. So as daai droë drol dink hy en sy aartappels gaan ‘n vóét in Mý hemel sit, wag daar vir hom ‘n móérse surprise. Dus sê Ek aan enigeen wat ore het om te hoor: Wees op jou hoede, mannetjie!

Seëninge op julle almal (behalwe daai doos met die hoed)
God

Translation:

CHRIST, NO, NOW I’VE HAD IT.

by God

Hell no. Look, people, let me make this absolutely clear: I had fuck all to do with this. If I hadn’t given Koos Kombuis’s blog a look-in the other day, I might never have heard of this potato farmer and all the shit he’s been talking in my name. But thanks, Koos! I’ll still have to thank you appropriately for making me laugh that hard. While we’re on the subject: the people from the SHAC committee asked me to tell you “Your suite has been upgraded”, whatever the hell that means. You know these marketing types. (I think it means they replaced the cotton sheets on your double bed with silk sheets or something.) I’ll see if we can lay on some more of those cute little bottles of shampoo for you and your family. God I love those little bottles.

But Koos and I don’t have issues, any more than I have issues with the Dalai Lama. (I just wish that little fat dwarf he left here last time would stop stealing the cake while the rest of us are sleeping. Lay off it! You’re already overweight, you selfish bastard.) Nonetheless. The more I find out about this potato-prophet, the less I like what he has to say – about widows, other faiths, and queers – and the angrier I get.

It’s not even this preacher-creature I’m annoyed with – although this bullshit claim of his followers, about him getting his queues directly from me, are starting to piss me off. No, I’m much more annoyed by all the stupid bastards who hang on his idiot’s every word as if the two of us speak with a single breath. Bullshit, man. And I had nothing to do with him hiring Loftus, either; as far as I’m concerned he can bloody well foot the bill for that himself. (And if you fuckers are dumb enough to contribute money towards it, it’s your own damn fault.) Also, you can all stop bringing My Name into disrepute by posting such inane shit on comment boards. Christ, man.

I mean, Jesus. Look, I’m not a pansy or anything, any more than I’m a widow. I mean, if I didn’t like cunts so much, why’d you think I made so many of them? But that doesn’t mean gays make my anus clench or anything. It’s not like they’ve ever done me an injury. (Okay, the other night in the bar, that Zeus chappie kept checking me out in the bathroom, but more can you expect from those horny fucking Greeks?) So if a couple of fellows – or even better, a couple of nice chicks – want to play with each others’ privates, why would I stand in their way? Like I was telling Ganymede the other day: as long as you guys don’t play grab-ass with me, I don’t care. It’s all cool.

But I should have learnt ages ago that you bastards never bloody well listen. It’s just like those asswits wandering the desert for fourty years. I mean, Christ, man, ten years, ten years I’m telling them: you’re holding the compass next to the pots and pans, dumbass, but no-one listens. Then some bastard starts telling everyone I’m punishing them, and everybody hears that. God. Some people.

First it was Noah, making up stories about some “Great Flood” that’s coming; then he’s got to make up even more stories when that bullshit doesn’t come true. Eventually it seemed every second ass who took it into his head to wander into the desert without enough provisions or knowing how to work a compass, came out the other end convinced he was a prophet. For the last time: if you’re going into be walking around in the sun all day, wear a bloody hat, you asshole. Or at least take an umbrella. As Elvis likes saying, “No wonder the heat’s getting to your brain, man.”

And later it was the NP who claimed I said “kaffers” were beneath you. Rubbish. I would never use such a disgusting word. I was talking about “kallers” [the Afrikaans word for “calves” — ed.]. And anyway, I wasn’t bloody talking to them. See, all Krishna’s cattle were stampeding, and me, Elvis, and James Dean were trying to calm them down. But they were kicking up such a lot of dust that Jimmy couldn’t see the young ones, and I had to explain where they were. But I couldn’t remember the English word for calves, see, so I yelled out to Jimmy that the “kallers” were below him. “Kallers”, d’you hear? (It’s all that bloody Zeus’s fault. I keep telling him: just because you’ve taken the form of a bull doesn’t mean you can shag another guy’s property, man. They’re holy cattle, dammit – the poor creatures aren’t used to that sort of thing.)

Anyway, Verwoerd and that lot took that entirely out of context – which is why Hennie and his buddy PW – “Poeswater” as the angels call him – are spending eternity on a bed of nails, sucking shit through a straw. That’ll teach them.

But now the whole business has got completely out of hand again. This is where I draw the line. It’s like all those rules in the Old Testament. Do I sound like the kind of person who’d use the word “abomination”? Shit. I mean, so maybe those stone tablets with the ten rules, okay, maybe those were my doing. But they still sound like relatively sane propositions – except obviously the one about ‘honouring your parents’. (Look: my eldest was still little, and I was tired of picking up after him all day after I’d already been changing his diapers for twelve hours, you know what I mean.) But now he’s a bit older I realized that kids go through different phases, and a bit of rebellion isn’t the end of the world. At least it shows some capacity for independent thought, which is more than I can say for that farming asshat’s followers.

And that commandment about “having no other gods before you”, okay, maybe that was a bit selfish, and a bit of an overreaction – anyway, that’s what Zeus keeps telling me – but you have to remember that I wasn’t getting much sleep, what with the little one and all. (But I insist: no-one ought to worship a god that keeps trying to shag my dog. I swear, if Zeusie tries that shit again I’m going to set his balls on fire with his own lighting bolts.)

In any case, to get back to my original point: This shit has gone on for long enough, and it has got to end. Right now. Let me this absolutely clear, you bastards: It wasn’t me. I had bugger-all to do with it, I never said that, and it isn’t my fault that Paul’s friends put cocaine in his porridge. (Why’d you think he came up with all that nonsense about celibacy and wives and so on? Only someone on a massive dose of that white power could come up with such absolute shit and still take himself seriously.) Also, I don’t know where this shit started, but I know where it’s going to end: Right. Fucking. Here. You understand?

And finally, leave Koos alone, okay? He’s one of the few Afrikaners left who still makes me laugh. That picture with the hat joke was excellent; the angels and I are still laughing at that. Except for Paul, of course, but he never even cracks a smile. That old misogynist has always been a bit of a dick; not a day goes by that I don’t regret letting him in here. At least I learn from my mistakes. So if that humourless old turd think he and his potatoes are setting foot in my heaven, he’s got a nasty surprise coming. So let me say to all who have ears to hear: hang on to your hat, mannetjie!

Blessings be upon you all (except that dick with the stupid hat)
God

[Originally posted on africans.co.za on Monday, 6 October 2008.]

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8 Responses to 'COME AGAIN?'

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  1. Lindri said,

    Ek kan nie glo daar is mense wat sulke klop snert kan skryf nie!!!
    Ja ons almal het sondes en niemand is perfek nie, maar jy gaan defnetief nie my laat glo dat my God so ‘n artiekel sal skryf nie!!! Persoonlik dink ek jy is net jaloers en kan dit nie hanteer dat Angus so ‘n groot verskil in mense se lewen kan maak nie!!! Die poletiek kan nie ‘n verskil maak in ons land nie, as God ‘n plan het sal niks Hom keer om dit te doen nie!!! Kom tot jou sinne en besef waaroor die lewe werklik gaan! Ek dink jy het ‘n baie lang sesie saam met Angus nodig sodat jy net weer ‘n lewe kan kry en agter kom dat God baie grooter en sterker is as jy en al jou aanhangers!!! Dalk die dag as jy jou kop neer le en jou laaste asem uit blaas sal jy agter kom wat jy aan gevang het. Die dag as jy voor God staan en jy moet aan hom probeer verduidelik wat jy gedoen het en hoekom jy dit gedoen het sal jy sien dat Angus nie die “doos” is wat jy gedink het hy is nie!!! Jy weet nie wanneer die Here jou gaan kom haal nie. EK hoop vir jou part jy het vriende en famielie wat jou op die regte pad kan help voor dat dit te laat is. Maak reg jou lewe met die Here!!
    Leef elke dag asof dit jou laaste is en weer eens maak reg jou lewe met die Here voor dat dit te laat is.

    Sterke

    Lindri

  2. YTAH said,

    If that’s what you call “god’s love”, my dear, you can shove it up your ass.

    Die Here en ek het nie ‘n probleem nie; maar ek het ‘n fokken MOERSE probleem met mense soos jy en soos Angus.

    And as far as the whole “Repent or go to hell for all eternity” argument goes: I wouldn’t want to spend eternity in a heaven with a god who’d let you people in.

  3. Darwin said,

    Lucky for us, u wont be getting into heaven As far as repent or go to hell is concerned, it is scary, but the truth

  4. YTAH said,

    Hey Darwin, you misnomer of the month
    See my new post, “Afterlife: Over My Dead Body”, for my response to your pathetic, empty threat.

  5. Blouperd said,

    When they nailed His hands to the cross of our sin. He utterred the words ” Father forgive them, for they know not what they are doing”

  6. YTAH said,

    Take your forgiveness and shove it, you condescending fuck.

  7. salnog said,

    Jis my maat wie dink jy is jy om sulke aantuigings te maak? Ek dink jy het n probleem .Ek se nie jy is verkeerd nie maar ek dink jy moet ernstig nadink met wat jy geskryf het. Ek glo nie iemand moet jou denke offend nie so respekteer ander se denke ook. Jy kon dit baie beter gestel het. Jy is een van daai persone wat dink jou siening is die regte een en is nie eers bereid om na ander te luister sonder om jou mening af te dwing nie. Ja , die hoedman is loud en ek stem ook nie met alles saam nie maar ek GLO aan die ewige lewe en self veryking in myself en sal nie probeer om juo te ooreed nie.Sterkte met jou reis 😉

  8. Oopkop said,

    Jislaaik God, ek laaik jou man! Fok hulle!


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