It’s Mark. Again. As you know, things have been rough. Christy’s gone, and my so-called best friend Ryan is still so far up her ass that I wonder if Southwest Airlines lets them share a seat. My four-year-old son can’t stand to look his disappointment of a father in the eyes. The factory that I worked for closed down. I guess nobody desires imitation Twinkie cream the way they used to.
The hits just keep on coming, Lord. You’ve taken so much this year, and I only ask for one thing in return:
Please Sweet Lord, let the Chicago Bulls beat the Miami Heat in the playoffs.
Some people think that you shouldn’t pray about sporting events. “Do you think that God cares about your little basketball game? Don’t you think He has bigger fish to fry?” Well, Jesus, I think that You are all-powerful and all-knowing. I think that You are frying ALL fish big and small. The fish I would like You fry today is LeBron James and his front-running, complaining, weird celebration, disappearing hairline-having ass! God Damn it!
I can say that, right? Because I mean it. Damn him, God! Damn him and his team of cowardly lions to the off season! The Bulls are YOUR team. They’re suffering out there, Lord. Luol Deng had a spinal tap for Your sakes!
Why are you punishing us?
You took out our best player, and You haven’t stopped there! Let’s take these Heat guys down a peg right? Everyone on that team is an affront to Your teachings. LeBron, cry baby. Dwayne Wade, asshat. Chris Bosh? He looks like a catfish. Doesn’t that make You mad? It drives me crazy. Ray Allen was in a movie where he was called Jesus. I know that’s blasphemy. They’re not fun. The Bulls are fun. Who is more fun than Joakim Noah? Everything about him says fun! Nate Robinson is shorter than the kid that mows my lawn! Don’t You think we deserve it?
Come on, Sweet Daddy Jesus. I may no longer have a wife, a best friend, a job, or a son that respects me, but I still have the Bulls. Please be merciful.
Heat Belongs in Hell (Go Bulls!),