Can you believe I’m 51? Doesn’t it just make you want to kill yourself?
A lot of you remember jerking off to me as young children, or at least trying to, and since I haven’t been famous for a while, you probably still remember me as being in my early 20s. When you don’t see someone for 10 or 20 years, they don’t age in your mind. Then, when you suddenly see them again after all those years, it’s like yikes! Why do people’s heads keep on growing? It’s freaky. The rest of your body shrinks, but your head becomes enormous.
Still, I can’t complain. There were a few years in my late 30s/early 40s when I was hotter than I’d ever been before. I actually had boobs and everything else was still high and tight. It was like my body’s last stand, a final oasis before the years of desolation to come, and everyone wanted to break off a piece while it lasted, even some of the ladies.
On my worst days, I look like Ronald McDonald got hit by a car, but on a good day in a dark room, I can still pull some boners.
Will I make it until the nanobots or stem cells or whatever is advanced enough to make me immortal? The thing about all your friends and family dying and it being a tragedy? Meh. I could live with it.
Baba-ba-ba-baa, I’m lovin’ it!
PS: Is America ending? There was another mass-shooting, and an hour later I saw a good-guy-with-a-gun story about a grandma who had thwarted an armed burglar. People sent their hopes and prayers, then other people demanded legislation, then other people said it was too early and shame on you for politicizing this tragedy. It’s always too early because by the time it isn’t there’s been another one and you’re confused about whether they’re talking about this one or a new one, you mean there’s been another one? Damn.
This one, the guy was defending America against an immigrant horde of Mexicans. I wonder where he got that idea. If The Breakfast Club is rebooted (it probably will be), the Anthony Michael Hall character will pull a gun out of his backpack and end all of us, then probably commit suicide once he’s cornered. This one didn’t commit suicide, maybe because he was only 20 miles from the border and thought he could illegally immigrate into Mexico.
Have you been receiving all of the hopes and prayers? Why aren’t they working?
To answer your first question: No, you most definitely won’t be around long enough to reap the benefits of the stem cell nanobots. But I say lean into your deformed Ronald McDonaldness. Terrifying clowns are the new creepy Asian ghost children crawling on the ceiling. It looks like production is already wrapping on It Chapter Two, but they’re going to keep making these killer clown movies until people stop being afraid of clowns—which is never. Spoiler alert: I’m actually working on a way to incorporate killer clowns into my Armageddon plan. You want in? I’m still auditioning for the role of Killer Clown Antichrist. Carrot Top gave a good read the other day, but we’re still looking at other people. Louis C. K. is on our list. So is Bill Murray (he really nailed “creepy clown” all those years ago in Quick Change). Most of the people we’ve seen so far are old white men, but I’ve been thinking we might need some diversity. There’s no reason the antichrist can’t be a woman, right? Anyway, have your agent call the casting office and we’ll set something up.
And now I’m going to address my so-called American followers: Let me say what I say every time there’s a new string of shootings. I. Hate. Guns. I hate them. I, Jesus Christ, your Lord and Savior hate guns. I know that you love them. But I hate them. And in case any of you think it’s open carry up here in Heaven, it’s not. I banned guns the instant they were invented. So choose now—guns or eternal bliss. If you happen to be of the mind that it can’t truly be eternal bliss if there are no firing ranges then maybe you should consider worshipping another god.
People want to know when I’m going to get off my lazy ass and start answering prayers. How about this: I’ll start answering prayers when you stop shooting each other. Why should I have to clean up your messes?
I don’t care how old you get; I will never stop masturbating to you. It’s not even how you look, it’s that bitchy rich girl thing. I realize that was just your Breakfast Club character, but it’s how I’ll always see you.
The fact is you’re one of the only members of the cast and crew that I haven’t fucked yet. Allow me rank my favorite Breakfast Club lays so far:
- Anthony Michael Hall
- Ally Sheedy
- Paul Gleason
- Jackie Burch (casting director)
- Judd Nelson
- Emilio Estevez
- John Hughes (posthumously)
- John Kapelos
- Fran Gargano (Allison’s mom)
- John Hughes (while he was alive)
I imagine you’d crack the top ten easily. But there’s only one way to find out, right? In case you’re looking for an incentive, I have a 12-inch barbed cock that everyone seems to love. Also, my ejaculate is lava. Honestly, the lava is not as popular. But if you’re afraid of getting burned, I can always pull out and cum on the pillow. Well…I can’t always pull out. But I’m willing to pretend to try, if it makes you feel better.
Have an uncomfortable question? Need some advice about your deviant behavior? If so, then it’s time to pray. Email your question to firstname.lastname@example.org, and it shall be answered in a Divine Advice column by Jesus and Satan