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Published May 09, 2014 More Info »
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I'd like to thank the religious right for pissing me off enough to feel the need to write this. I'd also like to thank Jesus.
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Published May 09, 2014

SAVED BY THEM

By: Adam P. Rothstein

 

            They came on a Monday like any other, the beginning of yet another mundane work week. But their arrival quickly and efficiently shattered the monotony of the average man’s day.

            They came from the stars, from a far-away place called Glork. Their message was simple, yet divine, a new concept that would save the people of the world from themselves.

            At first, as one can imagine, they were feared. Their appearance did not help their cause; with bright purple skin, green tufts of brillo-thick hair strewn throughout their entire bodies, and eyes that looked like white splotches of paint reminiscent of Jackson Pollack, there was neither a man nor woman who had ever seen their likeness.

            The Glorkinites, as we later learned they were named, came to spread the word of the one true God, the fair and noble GLORKNY, healer and dealer of death. He who devours sin and excretes divinity. I say praise GLORKNY!

            And we all say: Glibble Glabble.

            The world was reluctant at first to accept this message, foolishly claiming that they had their own silly notions of God. “I believe in Jesus Christ, and that he died for our sins!” some shouted, and “Moses gave us the Torah” said others. In the end, they were all wrong; there is only one God of the universe, only one who rules over that heavenly place we call Glorken. I say praise GLORKNY!

            And we all say: Glibble Glabble.

            The Glorkinites were steadfast in their mission to convert the world, knowing that to honor the fair and noble GLORKNY everyone would need to accept Him into their hearts. By Tuesday, they began executing those who would not kneel before the great statue of the Lord, those vile miscreants who refused to accept His love.

            But fear not fair reader! The Glorkinites are not murderers! It was not long until they realized that the slaughter must stop; after all, the dead cannot be converted. More importantly, they could not be saved from the acid filled world of Glorkell. So they quickly employed a more humane means of spreading His light and truth; torture, for example. They used a medieval means to inflict suffering on the unbelievers, one which entailed dipping a person into water until near drowning. I believe it was a method which made a comeback in the early twenty-first century, though I do not claim to be a scholar. Besides, history is unimportant, because our past does not include the God of Gods, that most holy being we call GLORKNY. I say praise GLORKNY!

            And we all say: Glibble Glabble.

            There were of course the Great Wars, but they were holy wars in the name of GLORKNY, which made them divine endeavors. The Scientologists were a particularly difficult bunch to deal with, unfortunately believing in the wrong aliens. We were forced to wipe them off the face of the Earth. There were the heathen Catholics of Spain, but they were easily converted during the Holy Inquisition of the Spanish. The Arab Muslims declared a Jihad on our Lord, but we smote them with the mighty fury of our God’s right pinky finger. In the end, the world was converted, every man, woman and child devoutly praying at the altar of He who is so divine. I say praise GLORKNY!

            And we all say: Glibble Glabble.

            Once the pillars of smoke and fire had cleared, the Glorkinites and their new followers quickly rebuilt the world. Our buildings were leveled to the ground, making space for the great temples of GLORKNY. The people lived outside, in a deliberate fashion, for only He who must be named is afforded the luxury of dwelling within walls and under a roof. Every piece of gold was collected, smelted and subsequently molded into a great statue of GLORKNY, the healer and dealer of death.

            Our religion is quite simple. It requires that we only pray seven times a day, but each service is barely two hours. Of course, we are required to read from the Holy Glorkle for two hours a day, and to spend one hour a day in silent reflection in His holy name. Sex is restricted to procreation, and is not allowed to last more than eight minutes and thirty-two seconds, but men are encouraged to finish in a speedier fashion. The women have it the easiest! They are not required to pray at all, for the mighty and noble GLORKNY is unable to listen to the high pitch of their voices. They must always wear a Glorka, which is a simple wool scarf tied around their chins and atop their heads, making them look as if they have a cartoon toothache. A body length sweater is also required, and the only parts that they are allowed to showcase are their noses and ankles. Men may wear whatever they want, as long as they shave a circle three inches in diameter in the inner third of their heads, and then cover half of these circles with a Glorkip. After all, we must remember that GLORKNY is above us, bringing us light and truth and love, and, of course, smiting those who no longer deserve the privilege of living.

            Every third Thursday, within each village, a fair young maiden is escorted into the center of town. She is gently placed upon a stone table, where the High Glorkinite Priest cuts out her Pancreas and offers it up to GLORKNY, creator and ender of famine. This is done because the intoxicating pancreatic aroma arouses our sweet Lord, and this stimulus rains blessings upon our humble world.

            Our diet is only slightly restricted. We are allowed an allotment of four pigs’ feet a day, with the option of seven to eight leaves as well. After all, we need not Earthly nourishment; every man, woman and child feeds off of His divinity. And in this, we find a great bounty. I say praise GLORKNY!

            And we all say: Glibble Glabble.

            Homosexuality is outlawed, for same sex encounters cannot produce future believers in GLORKNY. There is a special place in Glorkell reserved for these heathens, and those who are caught in the act of sodomy, while punished, are treated with humble dignity. They are chained to a pole in the village square, where the people gather around and throw stones, ice and rotten vegetables at them. After an hour has ended, they are taken to the edge of town, tied upside-down from the branch of a tree, and then burned to death. The cleansing nature of the fire gives them the chance to one day be reincarnated; after several hundred years in Glorkell, that is.

            But what a beautiful world our religion has created! Everyone is equal, with a few exceptions; women, those whose skin color is darker than a peach, those with eyes shaped like almonds, brown haired people, brown eyed people, and those originally from the country of Argentina. For GLORKNY does not favor these groups, because they are not as divine as the rest of us. They represent a degradation of the human soul, and though they may one day reach Glorken, they will not find equality there, either. But fear not, my future converts! They are treated with great respect! All that we ask of them is servitude, silence, and mild mannered obedience. It really is what is best for them; after all, GLORKNY, in His infinite and infallible wisdom, has been kind enough to recognize them as almost being human. I say praise GLORKNY!

            And we all say: Glibble Glabble.

            We are charged each day to the task of cutting down as many trees as we are able. The blessed Lord despises greenery, but the wood is also used to fuel our intergalactic missionary ships. A small price to pay for the conversion and saving of the universe, though there are some who refuse to participate in this divine assignment. They uselessly cry, “You are destroying our planet!” This is, of course, a falsehood; our planet lives and dies by GLORKNY, and does not depend upon simple trees and shrubbery. Should He desire us to breathe, He will give us air with which to do so; should He choose to end our lives, that too is His prerogative. These unbelievers are gathered together, covered in wood chips, and thrown into the engines of our ships to be used as fuel. It is only in this fashion that the wonderful, Holy of Holies, our divine and noble Lord GLORKNY, finds use for such filth. I say good riddance!

            I hope, my sweet brothers and sisters, that I have convinced you to join our cause. Become a part of the collective! I promise, you will never have the burden of thinking for yourselves again. It is a beautiful faith, one of peace and tolerance, filled with love for your fellow man. I thank GLORKNY every day for this blessed religion, which has so neatly and efficiently organized my life. Our Lord gives His love and bestows His blessings upon us all, without ever asking for anything in return. Because He created us in His image; more importantly, He created us in order to love us. To teach us wisdom and kindness, and to make the world, and I sincerely hope one day the universe, a better place for all. I say praise GLORKNY!

            And we all say: Glibble Glabble.

            

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