Bubba Joe Jim Bob's Guide To Religion

Bubba Joe Jim Bob's Guide to Religion
by
Rev. Dr. Bubba Joe Jim Bob Beets, Jr., ACP, BVD
Pastor Emeritus
Hog Valley Church of the Double-Tap

PART ONE: Whatchacall Yer Basic Compare-a-tive Thee-ology

In America, ya got all KINDS o' different religions, but most of 'em seem
ta've been thought up by the same fella (some ol' boy named Chris Channity),
'cause even though them religions has all got different names, they's all
a PART o' Chris Channity, so to speak. But Chris Channity don't appear to
be the NAME o' their God, nossir, they keep it real simple an' call their
God "God". After that, though, it gets purty confusin'. Ya'd THINK that
God'd be rich (what with knowin' what the stock market's gonna do an'
bein' able ta wipe out the competition with lightnin' bolts an' shit--kinda
like them Microsoft jokers), but apparently he's plowed every damn dime he
had inta pavin' the streets in his neighborhood--some gated subdivision
called Heaven--with solid gold. Consequently, he must live in a shack,
'cause when his kid came ta Earth a coupla thousand years ago, he got
born in a barn. His kid's name was Cheeses--prob'ly 'cause the barn was
on a dairy farm--an' he run around fer years usin' these sorta dirty jokes
called "pair-o'-balls" ta teach people not ta kill each other. But then some
buncha foreigners got worried 'cause he was drawin' bigger crowds than the
Blue Collar Comedy Tour, so they killed HIS ass. (God apparently couldn't
figger out WHICH buncha foreigners did it, which is why to this day, just
to be on the safe side, he keeps wipin' out huge numbers o' gooks an'
ragheads an' jigaboos with earthquakes an' tidal waves an' famines an'
shit like that).

The Chris Channity people s'posedly believe that Cheeses DIDN'T really git
killed, which makes ya wonder why God DOES keep killin' all them mud people
(unless God IS like them Microsoft jokers an' just does it 'cause he CAN).
Then again, there seems ta be a lot o' confusion 'bout whose kid Cheeses
really was, since his Mom was s'posed ta be a virgin, but she's got the
same name as Cheeses' girlfriend, who may or may not've been his girlfriend,
but prob'ly WAS a hooker. (This seems ta happen a lot in whatchacall them
patriot-article religions, where men hate women, but like fuckin' 'em, an'
want 'em ta be virgins AND hookers, dependin' on what kinda mood the men're
in at the moment.)

Then, as if ya weren't confused already, there's some God called the Holy
Ghost--who, near as ah kin figger, ain't God OR Cheeses OR Chris Channity--
AND some damn glowin' white bird that keeps showin' up over people's heads!
Dependin' on who ya talk to, the bird may or may not be the Holy Ghost,
an' sometimes it don't show up as a bird but as a FLAME over people's
heads that causes 'em ta start jabberin' in Pig Latin or somethin'!

Now, Chris Channity is divided up inta all kindsa subdivisions--they're
called D. Nommer Nations (don't know WHO the hell HE is, prob'ly some friend
o' Chris)--but they share a whole buncha "common beliefs". If yer neighbor's
big-titted girlfriend starts washin' her car in a skin-thin tube top, an'
ya start thinkin' 'bout how much fun it'd be ta start soapin' HER up, then
that's called "coveting", an' when ya die, ya go to Hell, which is a giant
George Foreman Grill where some EVIL God named Satan'll baste ya forever with
a boilin' snot sauce while he pulls an endless trotline outa yer ass. On the
other hand, if ya DON'T run around soapin' up yer neighbor's girlfriend's
titties inside yer head, ya git ta go to Heaven, where a buncha flat-chested
blondes in white flannel nightgowns play harp music for ya. (This COULD
account fer church attendance bein' way down lately.) There's a whole buncha
other Big Rules, too--called the Tin Commandments--which God gave to somebody
named Grandma Moses a long time ago. (Grandma Moses was a Chew--more on them
jokers later--who 'mediately broke the Tin Commandments inta a buncha pieces
an' then stuffed 'em inside a magic box that can kill Nazis. Unfortunately,
the box got lost, an' that's why World War II took so long.)

Near's ah kin tell from the different names, each one o' these D. Nommer
Nations got started by a buncha ole boys that had the same per-tickler job,
an' each one of 'em is purty much based on guilt. That's prob'ly 'cause
most of 'em come from that You-Row-Peein' place, where every occupation
had some sorta club where they all felt bad 'bout what they was doin' ta
make a livin', like the Dagger-Makin' Guilt and the Poison-Makin' Guilt
an' so on. So in America, ya wound up with the Lutherns (guitar-makers),
the Mennen-ites (deodorant-makers), the Method-ists (buncha actors, ah guess),
the Geek Ortho-Docs (dentists AND computer freaks), the Pent-up Coastals (ah
don't know what kinda shitty job THEY had, but they must all be pissed off
'bout SOMETHIN', 'cause they're always runnin' 'round whackin' each other in
the forehead) and the More-Moans (ah ain't too sure, but ah think they was in
charge o' runnin' all the whorehouses). Another big bunch is called the Roamin'
Calf Licks (they're also hung up on barns--'cause they think Cheeses was born
in one, too--but they also seem ta be real big on jammin' their churches full o'
giant gaudied-up lawn statues o' people wearin' bathrobes. They tell ever'body
them statues is all Saints, but ah figger that's a load o' horseshit, 'cause
there ain't a damn ONE of 'em looks like Roger Moore OR Val Kilmer, an' none
of 'em is wearin' helmets or shoulder pads, either!). Then ya got them bunches
called the Quakers (prob'ly from the Oatmeal-Makin' Guilt), Joe-Piscopopalians
(from the Drummer-Comedian-Weightlifters Guilt), the Seven-Day Advertisers
(from the Screaming Car Commercial Guilt), and the Gee-Homer-Witlesses (from
the I'm-Too-Fucking-Cheap-To-Give-My-Own-Kids-Christmas-Presents Guilt). Now,
ALMOST all o' them other religions ah mentioned before git lumped together as
somethin' called Potterstamps, an' they don't git along too well with the
Roamin' Calf Licks. Well, at least--in America anyway--they don't usually kill
each other like they do over in that Ire-Land place, but a educated feller told
me one time that "ire" was another word fer "pissed off", so ah guess that ain't
too surprisin'.

(Just as an aside here, that You-Row-Peein' place got its name 'cause instead
o' racin' stockcars like normal people, they put whole gangs o' guys in these
little skinny 80-foot-long canoes that's barely got a inch o' freeboard, an'
row 'em up rivers--facin' backwards, o' course, just like they drive on the wrong
side o' the goddamned road! Anyway, any damn fool kin see that if even ONE of 'em
stood up ta take a leak over the side, he'd dump his buddies inta the drink. So
that would account fer why they're all rowin' like hell AND usin' two paddles
each.)

(Also, ya oughta be aware that in SOUTH America--which is ever'thang south o'
San Diego or Miami--damn near ever'body is Roamin' Calf Licks, and Cheeses is
still Cheeses, but they don't CALL him "Cheeses", they call him "Quesos" or
somethin' like that, 'cause they can't talk Inglish fer shit. Also, 'cept fer
Inglund--where they DO speak somethin' RESEMBLIN' Inglish--most o' them
You-Row-Peein' jokers is either Potterstamps or Roamin' Calf Licks, a lot of
'em speak somethin' that sounds like a cow pullin' its foot outta the mud, an'
almost ALL of 'em, at one time or another, has burnt each other's countries
ta the ground over shit like whether some Eye-talian joker oughta be the Head
Preacher. Over here, we try ta stay fairly impartial, an' just keep sellin'
tanks an' bullets ta ALL of 'em.)

(The Inglish, by the way, have their own official religion--another Potterstamp
D. Nommer Nation--called the Ankle-Lickin' Church, which was originally set up
so's one o' their warlords could git a divorce, but nowadays concentrates on
helpin' the BBC convince the Inglish that occupyin' places like Northern
Ire-Land an' Cornwall is a good idea. The Cornwallians are mostly Pagans--a
much older religion centered 'round motorcycles and beer--who just want the
Inglish ta go back ta Northern France. We offered ta sell the Cornwallians
tanks, too, but the Inglish found out an' screwed up the deal.)

Now, it seems like the further East ya go, the weirder the religions git.
In the Middle East, they got these jokers called Muslins (ah think they're
named after all them cotton sheets they wrap themselves up in). Their God is
some guy named Ollie Ackbar, an' their Cheeses is some guy name More Hammered
(although ah cain't figger THAT-un out, 'cause they ain't supposed ta drink
alcohol). Their Bible is called the Karan (ah thought maybe it had somethin'
ta do with that fashion-designer gal, but that shore as hell cain't be it,
what with all their clothes an' hats bein' made outa bed linens). Ah cain't
even BEGIN ta figger what their religion is all about, but it don't seem
like there could be a whole lot of 'em left, since the way they get ta Heaven
is by blowin' up buses an' planes an' shit like that. (That prob'ly wouldn't
be so bad, but that Ollie Ackbar plumb fergot ta tell 'em that when yer
workin' with dynamite, the idea is ta throw it an' run like hell, not shove
it down in yer underwear!) Muslinism is one o' them patriot-article religions,
too, 'cept with ever'body wrapped up head-to-toe in bedsheets, ya cain't tell
whether some dame is a virgin OR a hooker--or whether yer cozyin' up ta
Pamela Anderson or that ol' broad from "Throw Momma From The Train". Ah
'spose after enough wrong guesses, Ah'd prob'ly start lookin' at dynamite
undershorts as whatchacall a real tension-reliever, too.

Also in the Middle East (place must be crowded as shit, which'd account
fer ever'body over there tryin' ta kill each other off) is anuther bunch o'
jokers call themselves Chews. That-un's easy ta figger, 'cause instead o'
English Muffins, they eat these things called bagels that'll pull yer teeth
right outa their goddamned sockets. 'Stead o' bed linens, they all dress like
them Blues Brothers fellas in the movies, 'cept with beards an' ten-inch
curly sideburns. A lot of 'em wear these little beanies instead o' fedoras.
(Them beanies don't make a helluva lotta sense ta me, even if they're padded,
'cause they wear 'em on the BACK o' their heads but spend a lotta time bangin'
the FRONT o' their heads on some big stone wall.) Now, THEIR God is called
Yaw Way--which a math teacher over at the high school sez is somethin' called
a "pallid drone" (somethin' that's the same, forwards or backwards)--an' they
ain't even GOT a Cheeses, 'cause he ain't showed up yet. An' THEIR Bible is
called the Tora--which mystifies the shit outta me, 'cause that's what them
Japs yell when they dive-bomb the shit outta someplace, an' them Chews ain't
even got slanty eyes (although they DO seem ta like that Chinese food a lot).

Now, if ya think THEM two religions sound strange, the farther east ya go from
that-there Middle East, the weirder it gits. There's a religion calls itself
Bootism, which is stranger'n hell, 'cause most of 'em are runnin' 'round barefoot.
They wear a lotta bedsheets, too, but most of 'em seem to be orange. Ah don' know
whether they even GOT a God, but he may be some kinda elephant-headed joker with
eight arms or somethin', an' THEIR Cheeses is a giant bald fat guy named Booter,
who don't seem ta do much but sit on his ass an' grin like a possum. An' they
not only ain't GOT a heaven, they believe when ya die ya git reincorporated,
which just goes ta show ya that, like every other goddamned religion, money is
the bottom line. (A feller told me one time that they worship somethin' called
the Dolly Llama, but the only picture ah could git in mah brain was that Carol
Channing gal wearin' a fur dress, an' ah try real hard not ta think 'bout shit
like that, 'cause it gives me a certified blue-veiner, an' it's a well-known
fact that Cheeses'll KILL ya if ya handle yer crank too much.)

Then there's the Hindoos, an' they gotta whole BUNCH o' little gods, an' each
one of 'em seems ta be in charge o' different shit. While ah ain't actually
SEEN 'em do it, ah got a theory that instead o' SLAPPIN' each other in the
forehead like them Pent-up Coastals do, they POKE each other in the forehead
with red magic markers. (Ah ain't too sure whether THEY got a Cheeses either,
but if they do, ah'm pretty sure he's inside o' one o' their cows--and they
must not be able ta figger out WHICH cow, which is why they ain't got no
Burger Kings over there.)

Also over there somewhere ya got yer Zorro-Austrians (near as Ah kin figger,
they're a bunch o' masked Huns with fencin' swords, an' they go 'round carvin'
the sign o' their God--a big "Z", natcher'ly--in Mexican soldiers' bellies).
Then there's the Janes (world's only all-female church, ah guess, unless they
let in them transpondered jokers that git off on wearin' women's duds), and
the Sue-Fees (prob'ly a bunch o' female lawyers). ALL o' the 'bove-mentioned
jokers oughta be as easy to spot comin' as them Muslins an' Chews, what with
all them capes an' swords an' briefcases an' truckdrivers wearin' prom gowns.

The two other big religions over there is Confusedism (fer Chinks) an' Shit-No
(fer Japs). Ah ain't got the slightest IDEA what THEY'RE about, but ah figger
purty-much ever'thang 'bout BOTH o' them cultures is based on the fact that they
eat too much fuckin' rice, which makes 'em all constipated, an' that's what
makes 'em squint all the time. (Bein' constipated yer whole life would also
explain why both the Chinks AND the Japs would favor them human wave attacks
an' them Godawful three-foot-long bayonets. The poor bastards'd prob'ly do
ANYTHING ta git their hands on some o' that C-Ration spaghetti with the little
chunks o' lard in it.)

The SECOND-weirdest religion of 'em all comes from even FARTHER East--smack-dab
in the middle o' the Pacific Ocean, as a matter o' fact. Nobody seems ta know
jackshit 'bout who these jokers is or where they are right now, but it seems
that a bunch of 'em rowed out ta some damned island and carved eight million
gigantic statues o' Eddie Murphy's HEAD!

But fer just-plain-all-out WEIRD ya gotta go the farthest east ya kin go, till
ya run outa ocean and wind up in California, which is a place just west of the
Rocky Mountains. (The Rocky Mountains is the western border of the United
Snakes, an' if ya try ta drive beyond 'em inta California, the Californians
got these inspection stations where they stop ya ta see if ya got any fruits
in yer car--they also check fer nuts an' flakes--an' if ya ain't got any,
they turn ya away.) Anyway, ah ain't even gonna try an' DESCRIBE what kinda
religions them Californians got, 'cause there might be some little kids'd wind
up readin' this, an' ah'd hate like hell ta have 'em growin' up thinkin' they
oughta be dressin' like Uncle Fester an' whackin' their own balls off 'cause
the Mother Ship is gonna be arrivin' any day now, if ya catch mah drift.

But, basically, based on this-here overview o' the crap human bein's tend ta
believe, ya kin prob'ly see why sellin' that "Intelligent Design" thing ain't
workin' out too well in places where they still teach shit like logic.

[LEToxin]

Virgil?

He's begging for the question.

Ah don' know what question y'all're talkin' 'bout, but Ah'll be happy ta
answer it. But first ya gotta tell me, why is that one feller callin' me
Virgil?

Oh, also, Ah plumb fergot ta mention them Sign-tolergist folks.

Sincerely,

Bubba Joe Jim Bob Beets, Jr.

PS--Does that Richard Dawkins feller hang out on these-here boards?
'Cause Ah bin a BIG fan o' his ever since Ah seen "The Running Man".

[calpurnpiso]

Project Pitchfork-ToXiN wrote

Virgil?

:lol::lol::lol::lol::lol:...Nah, Publius Ovidius Naso...:lol:

BubbaJoeJimBobBeets wrote

Ah don' know what question y'all're talkin' 'bout, but Ah'll be happy ta
answer it. But first ya gotta tell me, why is that one feller callin' me
Virgil?

Oh, also, Ah plumb fergot ta mention them Sign-tolergist folks.

Sincerely,

Bubba Joe Jim Bob Beets, Jr.

PS--Does that Richard Dawkins feller hang out on these-here boards?
'Cause Ah bin a BIG fan o' his ever since Ah seen "The Running Man".

Oh dear god Mahakala, the grammar portion of my brain just imploded.

Seeking another relegation?

BubbaJoeJimBobBeets wrote

Ah don' know what question y'all're talkin' 'bout, but Ah'll be happy ta
answer it. But first ya gotta tell me, why is that one feller callin' me
Virgil?

Oh, also, Ah plumb fergot ta mention them Sign-tolergist folks.

Sincerely,

Bubba Joe Jim Bob Beets, Jr.

PS--Does that Richard Dawkins feller hang out on these-here boards?
'Cause Ah bin a BIG fan o' his ever since Ah seen "The Running Man".

(In the voice of Rainier Wolfcastle from 'The Simpsons')
"Argh! The grammar plugs, they do nothing!"

Dude. I'm about as redneck as you're going to get on this board... hell, I drive a Dodge Ram 3500 Dualie with a Goose Neck hitch... And I don't think you're funny.

You may want to consider giving this character up.

[Eva]

what bothers me the most is how long it was....
barely read the first "paragraph".

Eva wrote

what bothers me the most is how long it was....
barely read the first "paragraph".

Dig it, me too.

Now, there is some funny in there, but all in all that's just way too much bad grammar to dump on someone all at once!

I would suggest that converting it to a stand up routine, where the material isn't read but listened to would be a better medium for your comedy. Shory segments 30 seconds to a minute long. A series of Youtube videos, for example.

[Eva]

ren, you've been blessed with a kind heart......

Eva wrote

ren, you've been blessed with a kind heart......

I'm just trying to help the guy. I'm sure Seinfeld has a tough go at first.

RenaissanceMan wrote

(In the voice of Rainier Wolfcastle from 'The Simpsons')
"Argh! The grammar plugs, they do nothing!"

Dude. I'm about as redneck as you're going to get on this board... hell, I drive a Dodge Ram 3500 Dualie with a Goose Neck hitch... And I don't think you're funny.

You may want to consider giving this character up.

Right on. that might work live, where you could do the voice but spelled out like that is just awful.

Admitting that you have a Dodge Ram 3500 dualie with a goose neck hitch is a bold move around here. I'm suprised Cal has shown you his prius yet! :)

[Choobus]

DontBeStupid wrote

Admitting that you have a Dodge Ram 3500 dualie with a goose neck hitch is a bold move around here.

you can't get help until you admit you have a problem......