The email I get from believers is generally pretty spectacularly bad. I used to blog it. Now I get so much of it that I just giggle and move on. But the comments I get from believers I’ve banned are so depressingly obsessed and/or just frighteningly inane, they make the emails I get look like the resuscitation of Oscar Wilde. Their comments never see the light of day, of course, but they keep submitting them anyway. They wind up in my inbox where I, and I alone, get to marvel at them.
This one from Icy Cantu, who is banned for god-botting, on my post about Dwight Longenecker’s hard-fought battle with the obvious, is simply too good to not share.
Did you seriously just call the Creator of the Universe and the Merciful God of your life and mine a “d*ck”? You call the Holy Father a hypocrite while you sit in your lair like a lazy whore sauntering around in your defiled garments just typing away, typing away…Your words are fizz on a spent bottle of cheap soda. They are nothing. You feel a bubbling cauldron in your brain that has to get out, get out. Spread your grandiose ideas to the masses and change the world, huh? You are rotten wood. Gutter sump pump funk. You are the fat rolls of your inner self all balled in a chunk.
I’m supposed to love you, but the sin and gunk stinks so bad I need a breathing apparatus and a scouring pad to wipe off the membrane of filth you deposit in word form in detriment to my health.
Hell’s not so bad, right? Never been there, punk. Keep knockin’ on that door and when it opens to overflow…and you call, and call with no answer…and fall, and fall…and wonder at it all, and all – don’t say I didn’t warn ya.
Ooooooooooooooooh, he mad. Incidentally, Gutter Sump Pump Funk is the title of my forthcoming hip hop album.
Well, Icy, I don’t subscribe to your beliefs, so there’s nothing preventing me from calling a spade a spade. So perhaps you should spend less time insisting that I don’t waltz around calling the inventor of stillbirth a dick and start explaining why that’s not dickish behavior.