Category Archives: Satire

God Reviews Song Titled “I need to wash my penis tonight”

I’m creaming in my God-pants with excitement this morning because Kevin Curtis of Canada has sent some song lyrics for me to review. The working title is “I need to wash my penis tonight.” Make sure to read my response at the end. Enjoy!

* * *

The pretty girl at work, well I finally asked her out
I thought she’d say no and I’d just cry and pout

She said “Sure, that’s cool, what will we do?”
I froze and thought “Well, I might be banging you.”

I said “We can do whatever, can just wait and see.
or maybe catch that Brad Cooper romantic comedy.”

She said “Great! Pick me up at around nine.”
I said “Sure, that’ll work out just fine.”

Now I’m home and starting to wonder.
How much cheese I’ll find from under.

Our date is Friday and you know what that means.
My penis needs to cease smelling like old beans.

Lord I need to wash my penis tonight
Gonna wash my big ol’ penis all right
Lord I need to wash my penis tonight
Gonna wash my big ol’ penis all right
[x2]

Well, it’s been twelve hours since I last seen her,
and I’m still dealing with stinky wiener.

“Man this could be a goddam disaster
If I can’t get my soiled penis past her.”

In the store, I told ’em ’bout my wiener
They gave me a hard-core commercial cleaner

At home I rubbed on that thing all evening.
I yelled “I’m sick of all this dick cleaning!”

It’s brown and green and a tad bit musty.
Despite my scrubbing, it was still all crusty.

The date was going fine, it was time to “do it.”
I wanted to flee, but I said ” Oh screw it!”

I yanked off my pants and crud went flying.
She stared, stumbled, and then started crying.

She yelled “It’s dirty, green and small as a mole,
and it smells like a fresh ass casserole.

I asked her if I could have just one more chance.
She nodded and smiled and put on her pants.

You better wash your lil’ bitty penis tonight
Or I’ll slice off your penis all right
You better wash your lil’ bitty penis tonight
Or I’ll slice off your penis all right
[x2]

* * *

Dear Kevin,

You are obviously a very talented lyricist. Your poetry captures the very essence of the anxieties of young lust and sub-optimal personal hygiene. It’s a common male human fear that the penis is not clean enough to suit the tastes of a female. I’m God and I still gave my penis a sniff after reading your beautiful words. Don’t change a thing. I have a list a mile long of people who can put music to your lyrics. I will contact you soon.

God

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Blame the Egyptians for the Boston Marathon (or the Greeks)

I had a nice electronic conversation about terrestrial locomotion and explosives with a male human named Lou from Florida last night. I’m sharing it with all humans today because that’s how this God rolls!

runner

Lou

Are atheists to blame for what happened at the Boston Marathon?

God

No, I think it would be silly to blame–are you sure the “e” comes first? That’s quite odd–atheists for the Boston Marathon. Non-believers, as a rule, hate to run. Most people don’t know that. Anyway, human running evolved, like, four and a half million years ago. You can start there with your blame or you can skip ahead to the damn Egyptians and Greeks who started the ridiculous practice of competitive running.

You don’t get many opportunities, so, Lou, let’s come up with better questions, okay?

Lou

Actually, I was referring to the BOMBING at the Boston Marathon on Monday. You took three people and hurt many others. It’s, like, the big news down here on Earth, especially in your United States. Or . . . did you not know about it? But that wouldn’t make sense, I mean, you’re  all-knowing and all-powerful, right?

God

Now that I look over my logbook I see what happened there down in . . . uh . . . Boatman. Or, no–Boston. Yes, Boston. Tragedy. Senseless, sad, tragedy. I was absolutely not involved in that; I was watching over New Zealand Monday afternoon. But yes, of course, it’s perfectly fine to blame atheists athiests poop flinging fuck nuggets non-believers. Humans who do not  believe in my existence are assholes–every damn one of them.

Death to Athiestes!