Believe you me, I am all for you; and wish you well - for you to go to hell.
Belief is a wonderful way to pass the time until the facts come in.
Just like you silly bums, I have a personal sky god. I bow to him, as you do to your airy-fairy sod. He prefers I call him Mr. NOT.
Do you know what happens when you play a country song backwards? You get your wife back, your dog back and your job back.
Billions of years before twelve step groups, God committed shotgun suicide. Today wall scrapings share His gratitude stories.
I do not want to sound cynical or condescending, but your lips are moving, your mind unbending.
Children throw tantrums because they've imagined their 'father in heaven' does so. And because, their inherited religious book has, in written, shown them so.
You still are? There go my plans! And the suit I had bought to attend your funeral. Well, well. Anyway, do call me up when you an't.
So, your god is the only god? Okay, but then, so is my dog.
Of course I love you. For real. I will sure come and personally meet you myself. Just to make sure you're well. When is your funeral?
If I were married, I would be unmarried.