Fidel and His Cousin Jesus Castro

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What do you call a guy standing in the middle of a busy coffee house yelling at the top of his frothy lungs to Fidel Castro in the next room? It’s possible Fidel could be there getting ready to come over, sit down and have a buchi. But, standing there in the same room with the screamer, you can’t really prove that Castro isn’t there…can you? In this world of possibilities, he just might be there…right?

Wrong! The fucker is not there! Period! There is no way the commie son-of-a-bitch could be there stroking his thousand-year-old beard and farting up his red beans and rice, “man of the people” mid-morning snack. You know it. I know it. And the crazy cocksucker hollering his ass off to El Commandante knows it too. Unless, he’s delusional as a pet raccoon left in his cage for the last ten years.

Mr. Castro is not there. But, you can’t tell that mental patient engaged in conversation with him that. He won’t believe you. And that is a sure sign of a major psychosis brewing. Loudmouth Davy Crockett over there is having a chat with that skinny, wilted, Cuban, prick and that…my friend, is that.

Same thing with these Christian assholes, who every time before they glug a greasy hamburger down their sanctified gullets, start mumbling in a head-down position, to some bastard who definitely ain’t in the room. Telling ‘em whomever they are chatting with left an hour ago, would be like telling a kid with a very sincere and devoted imaginary friend…“Look Bobbie, I know you’re close to your buddy Mr. Asscheeks. But, you’re getting too old for this shit…”

The little kid will inevitably get a hurt and angry look on his tiny, angelic face and gently and with the utmost compassion reply to you, “Look Dad…you better back off because if Mr. Asscheeks, who generally knows and hears all, gets wind that you’re disrespecting him; well…he’s gonna fuck you up good; now and forever.”

Try telling a Christian that their imaginary friend ain’t there and you’re pretty well assured of getting the same response…only this time in spades. And if you go too far for them, you are going to be as dead as the last abortion doctor they made holey with 9mm hollow points.

The point is, that these Christian-religious, bore-the-shit-out-of-you-at -a-party, phony as rubber-dog-shit, motherfuckers are never; I mean never fucking ever; gonna believe that their unseen friend, whom they rely on for all sort of shit…is not anywhere around. They are as fucking psychotic as the idiot talking to Castro.

But, that does not mean us secularists (the Christian code word for normal people) have to put up with their shenanigans. The next time you’re at a restaurant with one of ‘em or having Christmas (their absolute favorite time of year) dinner with one of your equally nutso relatives. And they go into their song-and-dance, running around the table; dropping occasionally to one knee; mumbling; touching their foreheads, chests and shoulders in rapid succession. Just go out to the car. Get the pistol under the seat and shoot the fuckers, till they are as dead as the aborted babies they are always bitchin’ about.

It will serve the crazy bastards right! And make the world a damn better place. Thank you very much for your kind attention.