The Pussy

God

God will not get you any pussy. He cannot cure cancer. Or at least, He won’t. He won’t get your kids home safe; He won’t save your job; He will not affect your AIDS test. What He will do if you can get through to Him is remind you that it doesn’t matter. God is your insignificance. God is the knowledge that you’re already dead. The world moves on as if you were never there. One day it’ll be as though the world itself was never there. Your mistakes, less meaningful than the death of a liver fluke. Like your happiness.

You were never born. You never lived. When you’re dead things are just the way they’ve always been. Somehow by some accident you exist for half a second. Hear a woodpecker in the park. Take a couple good shits, beat off and die. Even if you’re Hitler– you were never there. Do what you want, or don’t. Fail. Never leave the house– or do, go nurse orphans in Somalia. Who gives a fuck; it’s all nothing. Your pitiful instant divided by infinity is so much of nothing that zero is too big a number to express it.

What a relief.