J. C. Mogensen

Reality with a Healthy Dose of Humor

Ramblings

Church of the Money-Back Guarantee

Posted on April 24, 2012 at 11:35 AM

Oh religious zealots, you never cease to amaze me.


I went on a little eBay spending spree the other day - by spree I mean I spent like $20 on a router and cellphone parts. It was exhilarating. The only thing more fun than hitting the "Buy It Now" button is waiting for the Chinese treats to get delivered. What follows is me racing to the mailbox every day at precisely 11:30 to check if it's stuffed with cheap goodness. My brain tells me it's going to be two to four weeks before my "winnings" show up, but my heart says maybe, just maybe, they made the trip halfway around the world over night. They never do, stupid retarded heart.


Now, before you feel too sorry for me, you should know that the good people of Saint Matthew's Churches of Tulsa, OK did manage to sneak in a little something special just for me. The envelope looked pretty official so I didn't make the mistake of automatically round-filing it. Whew, close call, because what was inside the plain white envelope promised to change my life forever. These modern day wizards had managed to stuff an entire rug inside a standard-sized letter envelope. This wasn't the kind of rug you wipe your feet on, mostly because it was made of paper, but also because it was a magical wish granting rug with the finest artistic rendition of Jesus "I'm gonna go ahead and moonwalk across this lake" Christ on it that I have seen outside of the Raptor Jesus meme.


 

 Cool hat Brah

 

How does it work, you ask? Well, they included a handy little cheat-sheet with a list of wishes to choose from including True Love, Protection From Evil, Miracle Healing, Wisdom, and probably the most dangerous of all, Return Of A Loved One (this is obviously how the zombie apocalypse starts). They also give you the option to pick a completely original wish of your very own if you absolutely must insist on ordering off the menu, but they were smart enough to limit a person to only one wish, otherwise the right combination (Strength, Miracle Healing, and Protection From Evil) would have us awash in Wolverine-like super heroes.


 

 17 Acres of land!?! Praise the Lord, mother fucker!

 

After you pick your wish, you kneel on it and pray real hard until rug-Jesus opens his eyes – that's how you know you did it right. Afterwards, you put the rug and your wish card, along with an optional monetary token of appreciation, in the S.A.S.E. and mail it back. The St. Matt's folks then enter into their Audio-Telly-o-Tally-o Count (I'm assuming the last part. They don't really say how the magic happens other than some bit about how the rug has been anointed in God's Holy Blessing Power, but I bet there's a Dr. Seussian/Steampunk machine under a plexiglass dome located on a mountain somewhere between Reno and Rome).


 

 I like my mail pre-highlighted, thank you very much

 

So far I have my doubts about the effectiveness of the rug, but you'll know it worked once the Kardashians and the cast of Jersey Shore are filmed playing tug-o-war over an active volcano. Full disclosure: I didn't wait for rug-Jesus to stare at me – I've been questioning my sanity enough lately as it is. I also didn't send any cashy-money because I don't think I should have to offer a down payment when making requests to a supernatural hotline.


 

 One wish... and ixnay on wishing for more wishes! That's it! Three! Uno. No substitutions, exchanges or refunds!

 

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Categories: Politics and Religion, People and Culture

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