Confession of a Modern Sinner

STUFFED IF I KNOW


Dear God,

Felt the need to confess. Tried to find a priest but they're all a bit busy. Some sort of conference. No-one's answering their phones and George Pell is tweeting at #fuckedifiknowdude and #wheninrome.

So I rang Head Office and spoke to a nice man called Frank who suggested I should just talk to you direct. Told me it's the modern way. Dude. So like ...

Forgive me non-gender-specific supreme being but not like God in a religious sense because religion is really fucked and I'm just interested in being spiritual, for I have sinned. Well look when I say sinned what I really mean is had a moment of moral dyslexia. Or something. You know. Since my last confession I have:

Checked Facebook forty-three times while driving in heavy traffic, attempted to tweet pictures of my naked knee to subordinates in the office and I have failed to like over three hundred stupid cute memes of cats on FB. I have willfully refused to wish at least half my Facebook friends a Happy Birthday after Facebook has told me it's their birthday. One of my friends shared that her spirit guide was a rare Albino Tibetan Buddhist Butterfly, I told her mine was a 1947 Vincent Black Shadow.

Forgive me non-anthropomorphised guiding spirit of the universe and non-judgmental entity quite unlike that punishing bastard God of the Old Testament, for I have been ethically uncool. Since my last confession and oh all right while we're on the topic I suppose strictly speaking that necking a half a bottle of Wild Turkey and telling my innermost secrets to a lap-dancer is not a traditional form of confession but I feel it shows I'm prepared to make an effort. Anyway. Since then I have utterly failed to treat Russel Brand in a worshipful fashion. Oh I know he's a close personal friend of yours but I just think he's a fucking tool. Sorry. And I know you probably know this, what with you being omniscient and that, but I think he's after your job. Just saying. And I haven't watched the last two Eurovision Song Quests. Also I sold four hundred dollars worth of Kale to some schoolkids & promised them if they smoked it they'd have a religious experience. Which is like pretty fucked up considering how I feel about religion. Oh irony you are a cruel mistress. Also I have on many occasions had impure thoughts about Marge Simpson. It's the blue hair. She drives me crazy.

Forgive me really-non-specific-unifying-central-force-of-the-universe-not-an-old-man-with-a-white-beard, for I have transgressed some basic ethical tenets. Or some shit like that. I have many friends who are Vegans and they post pictures of cute little lambs on Facebook and say "How can you possibly eat this ?" and finally I cracked and replied "With a redcurrant jelly jus, baby potatoes, and a Chateau Yerring pinot noir." I got sent a sobbing emoji.

 Also, I have no tattoos. And absolutely no intention of getting any.

Oh. And I killed a hipster.

 You what ? You have a special on hipsters ? Three for the price of one ?
Brilliant. Hand me my artisan bow and shaman-blessed poison arrows, I'm off to Gertrude St. Say man, what is the penance for killing a hipster anyway ? .... You have to drink International Roast for a week ? Sounds about right.





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