Episode 1: “Pilot”

“No — no words. No words to describe it. Poetry! They should’ve sent a poet.”

–Ellie Arroway

Well, I WAS an atheist! That is, until a few days ago when I met the Creator of the Universe and He begged me to start a blog. I was all like, “Oh my gosh, it’s God!!” And God was like, “Dude, PLEASE start a blog!!!”

Allow me to back up.

I suppose this story really begins where all stories begin: at the creation of the universe. The Bible, for example, starts pretty much right at the beginning of things, and that’s a pretty well-known story. Or take, for example, the classic Russian novel “Crime and Punishment.” Now, I’ve never read this story myself (is it some kind of mystery novel?), but something tells me that the book would never have been written if God had not first created the universe.

I mean, right?

The author, pictured here with his ex-wife, Oksana Ivanovna Putnika (2007).

The main difference between this story and all stories that have ever gone before it is that this story is THE REASON THE UNIVERSE WAS CREATED. You may be experiencing some skepticism; I myself was a bit incredulous when God told me that He had created the universe EXCLUSIVELY so that, in billions upon billions of eventual years later, I, Chris Nelson, could write the blog that YOU ARE READING RIGHT NOW.

(Another difference between this story and most other stories is that THIS story begins midway upon life’s journey, one morning when I found myself within a forest dark, snarflin’ around for truffles with my pet pig, Julia, for the straightforward pathway had been lost. And I only know of one other story that begins even vaguely similarly.)

ANYWAY, there Julia and I were, snarflin’ n’ grofflin’ ‘round gnarly tree-roots for the delectable little fungi when Julia suddenly froze, stock-still, staring off into the distance with furrowed brow. I knelt down beside my trusty companion, concerned. I looked intently into the dark, limpid pools of her noble, porcine eyes and saw that some kind of divine madness, some kind of unholy bloodlust had been kindled therein.

"Pig"

Julia, my trusty sidepig. (Voted "Best Pig of 2007".)

“What is it, boy?” I asked. “Do you smell something? Do you smell some sexy red-headed person??”

In response, Julia sprang forth and began bounding off towards the mysterious source of the strange force that was tickling her piggy intuition. I ran after her, barely able to keep up with her spry little hooves sprinting nimbly through the underbrush.

Just when I was about to collapse from exhaustion, we burst into a quaint little sun-dappled glen, the center of which was dominated by the MOST COLOSSAL TRUFFLE EVER BEHELD BY THE EYES OF MAN.

My mind reeled, my mouth watered greedily at the sight of a truffle approximately the size of a Shetland pony.

“Why, with that kinda mush,” I thought to myself, “Julia n’ me, we’d soon be up to our ears in money, booze, and women!” Visions of me and my best pig-friend sipping champagne and smoking expensive cigars in a hot-tub full of hot-ass honeys danced through my head.

Imagine my surprise, then, (go on, just imagine it!) when Julia indicated to me using a sophisticated series of gruffles and hoof-stomps that I was to take Paragnamax, my trusty ax (or “axe” — both spellings are considered correct), and cleave asunder the temptuous little mushling!!

Well, who was I to argue with a pig cunning enough to communicate with me like that?

–Nobody, that’s who!!

So I shrugged. I extracted my ax from its leathern scabbard. And it was only a matter of moments before I was hurling aloft Paragnamax, the dread mushbane of the underworld, and letting it fall square in the middle of the portentous mushmallow. A bolt of white-hot flame leaped from where Paragnamax connected with the truffle, and a clamor as the voices of ten-thousand waterfalls erupted from the swirling Charybdis of fire and lightning.

Slowly, the smoke cleared…

…The echoing thunder subsided…

…And there, standing directly in the center of the cloven truffle, was GOD.

St. Anselm of Canterbury (c. 1033 – 21 April, 1109) defined God as “that than which nothing greater can be conceived.” I, on the other hand, define God as follows: He is a plump, jolly little gnome-like being with pointy shoes and a jaunty little feathered cap which he wears tipped saucily to one side. He has rosy cheeks, a cute little button-nose, and eyes that seem to be always a-twinkle with mischief. He wears a fancy little waistcoat that makes him look just as dapper as you could want, lots and lots of colorful buttons with whimsical little pictures and phrases written on them, and a festive little cummerbund that ties him all together quite nicely.

I guess I was expecting God to be a wise old Black woman, or at least like a kindly old Black man, but hey, I guess that’s how accurate Hollywood’s portrayal of God has been.

ANYWAY, I was all like, “Oh my gosh, it’s God!!

And God was like, “Dude, PLEASE start a blog!!!”

Well, not in so many words; what He REALLY said (in a high, sing-songy voice rather like that of a Munchkin) was:

“Well hal-loo, fair-weather travelers! And what, pray-m’tell, brings such a strapping young stripling and his pretty porkster pal to my humble ‘nook’ of the woods?” Then he winked at me conspiratorially and did an odd little jig / foot-tapping dance that looked… well, it looked just really fucking pathetic, to be honest with you, not to mention a little gay.

Julia, my pet pig, looked up at me uneasily, as if to say, I ain’t so sure about this guy, Chaalie…

For a long, surreal moment I stared down at God. I was not sure how to react, never having been in this particular situation ever before. (I was also caught off-guard by the fact that God lives in a mushroom, pretty much exactly like a smurf.)

So then I was all like, “WHAAAAAAAAAAAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, GOD???”

This is when He gave me the here’s-what. God the Almighty, Wright of Heaven and Hell, explained to me that He’d been meaning to get a lot accomplished lately, but that his growing interest in pastry-making was taking up more of His time than He had anticipated. (Apparently, God’s really been getting into doughs and frostings and stuff recently, and He’s kinda been neglecting some of the “core” issues such as The Meaning of Life, His Plan for the Universe, etc., in favor of learning how to bake.)

His recently-neglected “to-do” list includes, among other things:

1.) Make a bunch of stupid lists
2.) Make sure a bunch of pigs commit suicide / make a bunch of pig jokes
3.) Publish “The Wilberforce Chronicles”
4.) Invent a language
5.) Sort out the whole science vs. religion thing
6.) See #6
7.) Miscellaneous / Make sure things come out in nice, round “7’s”

“…That’s why I need you to start a blog,” God concluded, and gave a sassy shake of his pert little rump to punctuate the announcement.

“A ‘blog’???” I said. I had heard the term used before, but I had never stopped to think about its being used by God to communicate with us humans.

I folded my arms and eyed God skeptically. “Isn’t a ‘blog’ a place for the supply of prepubescent White and/or Asian girls’ bitching and nagging and griping and moaning to far* outstrip the demand thereof?”

"Movie Poster"

THE WILBERFORCE CHRONICLES: What Shakespeare was to painting, this film will be to the culinary arts.

*(Infinitives will be split mercilessly in this blog. If you cannot handle the UNBRIDLED SAVAGERY, perhaps this blog is not for you.)

“Oh, well, naturally!” God assented immediately, placing his hands akimbo in just the most adorable little way. Then he pointed a single, pointed index finger into the air to emphasize his conviction. “However, it is also a place for you to do My Work!”

Julia had by now lost interest in the Word of God and was nibbling on a corner of the giant fungus that served as His home.

I hesitated. “I dunno…” I told God. “I mean, I’d really love to help you out and all, but I’ve kinda got a lot of stuff going on right now, and I’m not sure I really want to be adding more to my plate…”

(This was a lie. As anyone who knows me is well aware, I have very few friends and even fewer hobbies. Combined with the fact that I am woefully unemployed, this means that I often find myself with plenty of “free-time” on my hands. But I am also a very lazy person, and being the Mouthpiece of the Godhead sounded like an awful lot of work.)

But God can be very persuasive when He wants to be (if you count “inspiring pity” as a persuasionary tactic), and in the end I just felt so bad for the odd little pastry-chef wanna-be that I relented. And so, to make an extraordinarily boring (if not all that long) story short, here I am, writing a blog on behalf of YHWH!

Who’d-a thunk? Certainly not my father, who is a Baptist minister, lol!!

It then became a simple matter of deciding upon a name for the blog; from there, God assured me, the thing would virtually write itself. The name had to encompass not only the fact that the blog would be a work of breathtaking clarity of purpose and felicity of execution by a man whose brain is an Earth-shattering cataclysm of unparallelled genius, but also the fact that DEUS HIMSELF had commissioned the blog.

Talk about a tall order!

“What about ‘God’s Genius Blog’?” I proposed.

God merely scoffed at me. “‘God’s Genius Blog’?! What are you, kidding me? That’s like calling a book, ‘Please Read This Book. It Is Well-Written And A Nice Book To Read.’”

I thought about this title for a moment. “I would probably read that book,” I said, perhaps somewhat naively. “It sounds like it would be nice to read.”

God face-palmed.

So ANYWAY, here’s the “gist” of what God wanted me to tell you:

"A Study In Scarlet"

In case there was any confusion, this blog is *PRO* pig-suicide. The above diagram illustrates the most effective and delicious way for a pig to "end it all."

1.) If you are a pig, go kill yourself. Now, don’t get me wrong: this isn’t, like, prejudice against pigs or anything. It’s just that pigs, as it turns out, get a really wicked-sweet afterlife, and it would be a shame for any individual pig to spend one more day on Earth when he or she COULD be living it up in Pig Heaven — or “Hog-Heaven,” if you will — which, as far as I can glean from God’s coy little hints, consists mainly in there being lots of free food lying around. I’m not exactly clear on the specifics of the theology surrounding the existence of an awesome heaven just for pigs, but God did say that we’d be learning more about this as the blog progresses. (He also intimated that bats, sloths, and certain species of tree-kangaroo actually share a heaven, so I’m pretty curious to find out what that’s all about.)

2.) If you are NOT a pig, feel free to continue living! — ***ON THE CONDITION THAT*** you read this blog. Daily. Daily* perusal of this blog ALONE will ensure your admission into Heaven.

*(Special dispensation may be granted for individuals experiencing acute medical or financial hardship; please contact me directly with any questions about this.)

3.) Episode #100 will contain the Meaning of Life. For better or for worse, I am not even joking. The MEANING OF LIFE will LITERALLY be revealed to you in Episode #100. No joke, no pun, no scam, no ironically misleading promise in an attempt to be “cute.” The nature of existence, why we’re all here, and what you can do to make it all worthwhile will all be contained within Episode #100.

…So yeah.

I’m not sure how to make this any clearer to you people. Episode #100 will LITERALLY CONTAIN THE MEANING OF LIFE.

ANYWAY, thanks very much to everyone for stopping by to read the first episode of God’s slash my blog! I’ll admit it’s off to a pretty rough start, what with all the typos and grammatical mistakes and blasphemous heresy and what-not — but hey, nobody’s perfect! Except God. And even He’s a bit… well, you’ve read my description of Him.

I guess this is where a catchy “closing-phrase” would normally go.

Bye!

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