Happy Year-of-Our-Lord 2009! Glory! It's been ages since I, Jeannie Bladdersham (mezzo-soprano with the Peducah Praise Singers, Christian, ferret-hobbyist) witnessed The Lord's good news by sharing faith-related items of interest. Alas, chez Bladdersham has been plagued by incidents and mishaps over the holidays.
First, flying high on our single "The Devil is a Homosexual" (which peaked at #19 on the Pentacostal Hit List) the Peducah Praise Singers embarked on a regional tour of supermarkets and strip malls. The
climax highlight of the tour was supposed to be a concert at the Possum Holler Guns n' Ammo Expo. We had just started the fourth encore of our latest ditty "Ride Me Home, Jesus" when someone in the audience accidentally discharged a shotgun, sending contralto Wanda Sue Porchnik home to glory. If that wasn't enough, all heck broke loose at a Ramada Inn (in advance of our gig at the Tuscaloosa Piggly Wiggly). Yours truly ran out of lip hair bleach and popped in on Martha Krapp and Dee Fink (our two coloraturas), only to catch them sprawled naked on their bed, faces buried in each other's sin zones. At first I thought they were having a pie-eating contest. Then I screamed. Long story short, the Peducah Praise Singers have scheduled open auditions for non-lesbian singing talent. Hallelujah!
You may recall how my ferret Lady Hildegarde Hoparound met her gruesome end when I inadvertantly decapitated her with a leaf-blower. Well, come Christmas morning, imagine my delight when my Aunt Betsy (an advice columnist from Headcheese Oklahoma) showed up with a gorgeous new ferret! His name is Lord Skippy Scamperpants, and he's a joy! Aside from that one unpleasant evening when he got into my diet pills AND my Metamucil, and spent five harrowing hours hopping from limb to limb on my christmas tree while shooting diarrhea from his poor excitable rectum. That was a New Year's Eve I'll not soon forget!
Speaking of ferrets, it's getting so you can't swing a dead one by the tail without hitting some dreadful homosexual. If you're like me (and I suspect you are) you can't close your eyes without picturing two swarthy he-men heaving and grunting probing each other's Leviticus zones with their filthy bits. It has to stop! With that in mind, this edition of God Beat will pay homage to God's Brave Soldiers who spend tireless hours doing righteous battle against all things fairy-esque. Praise!
KVETCHING ISRAELI SCHMENDRIK DISCOVERS THAT HOMOS CAUSE EARTHQUAKES: Israeli MP Shlomo Benizri took a break from bombing Palestinian kindergartners to announce that the recent spate of earthquakes in Israel are God's punishment to the Zionist state for its increasing tolerance of all things f*ggoty. This of course explains the seismic smiting currently laying waste to Key West, Provincetown, Greenwich Village and the Vatican. Speaking of the Vatican...
DER POPEMEISTER HINTS AT A FINAL SOLUTION: Beloved leader of Mary-worshiping Cathy-licks worldwide, Pope Benedict XVI recently decided to spread God's love by calling buttsex "a destruction of God's work." Our favorite Nazi Pontif went on to compare the sancity of hetero marriage (e.g., the Holy union of Bristol Palin and Levi Johnson) with a sweaty Latin American jungle, saying it "deserves no less protection" than the rainforests. He also mentioned that the "blurring of genders" would lead to mankind's demise. Then he hiked the hem of his satin dress and sashayed down the hall in his red prada slippers whilst swinging a purse filled with burning incense. In another country where men hold hands and wear dresses...
THE SAUDIS GET A LITTLE "BEHEADY" WITH TWO ARAB NANCY BOYS: When George Bush visits Saudi Arabia, he and Prince Abdullah like to skip about holding hands in a garden. Apparently, two men named Nasser al-Harby and Majid al-Sibeiy took their skipping beyond all Godly bounds, because over the weekend they were taken to the public square for a noggin liberating party. The Saudi royals insist it was all an unfortunate misunderstanding; the two had mistaken the Royal executioner for a hairdresser and fatefully asked him to take a little off the top. Speaking of flipping one's lid...
Y'ALL PAY A VISIT TO NANCY ROBERTSON: When Nancy Robertson read an article in the Asheville Citizen Times about a protest against a gay marriage ban, she got so mad she spit a mouthful of Honey Bunches of Oats clear across the trailer. Being a Godly woman, she quickly fired off a brilliantly scathing letter to the editor. In it, she claims that since relocating from Jackson Mississippi (and doubling the collective IQ in both towns in the process), she's become "astounded by how many homosexuals have infested this beautiful city." She goes on to suggest that all ass-sex practitioners should move to Connecticut. The poor dear exclaims "when I see them walking down the street holding hands I can't help but think about what they do in private." Poor Nancy. Forced to contend with vivid images of leather-clad florists giving each other rusty trombones. Horrifying daydreams of cockringed plumbers laying pipe in the poo holes of lust crazed Marines. As Christians, we MUST save Mrs. Robertson from these Satanic hallucinations. So I looked her up on whitepages.com! Praise!
1268 Tunnel Rd
I strongly urge all homosexuals to call her for explicit gay phone-sex, and show up on her front lawn to engage in every filthy act imaginable. Throw an orgy so vile it would make Caligula queasy. Only then will the pitiable woman know exactly what it is you do so she can finally stop imagining it. Glory!
Oh, here's a map to her house (click to enlarge):
Pope Benedict sez: "Ich bin ein Whup-Ass subscriber!"