This is from a series of articles I wrote for the Northland Reader back in the early 2000’s….
As Evil Jeff of course, this was for the April Fools edition, enjoy.
God is pissed and, although He is far too comfortable on his luxury cloud supported bar-co-lounger ® to come down himself, He has nominated (and being the only vote) declared for there to be a new messiah on the planet Earth. I guess this is where I came in.
Things were just getting too much for Him to handle. I am sorry about continuously referring to God as ‘He’ but ‘He’ would not disclose His actual sex. Perhaps God is gay, perhaps God is neutral, maybe God is a hermaphrodite just like the “Virgin” Mary, I just do not know.
But anyway, God decided that things were getting out of hand, and just like back in the bad-ole-days of Egypt, some smiting was in order. These orders would not enforce themselves so there needed to be someone down here on Earth to take care of these tasks. After an extensive period of thought (most likely measured in nanoseconds) God decided who it was that he wanted to be on Earth and lay out his vengeance for him. Enter one Evil Jeff!
He came to me, not in some dream or some LSD induced hallucination making me want to move to South America and open a kool-aid stand. He came to me in what I thought was one of his more traditional forms of communication, the burning bush. I had always visualized the burning bush differently than how it occurred, but I guess it was just my lack of imagination as a six year old, or maybe the bush shall come as the bush shall come. Whatever is the most convenient at the time is the form that gets used. Something like that, I realize that I am droning on, but if it happened to you then you would understand my disturbance.
One night there I am getting jiggy with the girlfriend of the moment. Thinking about how nice everything is in that moment and trying to determine what excuse I would use when I felt the need to get her to leave later when ‘POW.’ The first thought I had was “wow, the carpet really doesn’t match the drapes.” Then I realized it was more than the normal changes that were taking place here, the whole room seemed to stop, except me, and this little feminine soul patch of flame. Thoughts raced through my mind, a string of things from “WTF” to “I hope I don’t catch that.” Suddenly there it was, the voice, the metronome. There was an eerie similarity to the guy who announces the prizes on ‘The Price is Right”, not Bob Barker, but the voice dude, despite that distraction I was able to keep my concentration on what was being stated as well.
“Evil Jeff, despite the blatant contradiction of having someone with your moniker and reputation work for myself, and doing the deeds that I am about to beseech you to do I have decided that I am going to make you my chief adjudicator for the planet Earth. You will be granted powers over certain things, all of which is explained in this little red book. Also in my little red book is a short list of the most important people who need to be adjudicated against, and a way to get through those lines at the DMV in one-quarter the time.”
I was shocked, after all who am I to get these powers? I was stunned and completely distracted. Time returned to normal, and there I was sitting with the girl I was just about to do something with. I was thumbing my way through a little red book, she looked up at me, bitched about what was my problem all of a sudden, got pissed about seeing me sitting there reading a book and stormed out of the house. I guess that did solve one problem as I no longer had to think of an excuse to get her to leave, so I was somewhat appreciative and took the time to actually read the book instead of just skimming it for big words and phrases that looked important.
It was a rather interesting little red book, completely different than the one that Mao had been so fond of handing out. This little red book contained the exact instructions on how to work small miracles and even instigate healthy smiting. As I read further in, I was very impressed to find out that I had been granted medium miracle power. (I could heal a poor woman named Betty in Minot, ND But I would not know of what. There went all of my dreams of ever being on the 700 Club.) And I had the power of plagues up to and including a plague of frogs.
I sat there in my room for a while, first covering the floor with locusts, then having a group of frogs come and eat them and finally sending small lightning bolts to incinerate the frogs where the hopped.
The room started to get the acrid smell of incinerated frog flesh and ozone, and I was getting tired anyway, so I flushed the stale air out of the room with another test miracle and went to bed. I knew that I was going to have a busy day and would need my rest to get everything done that I had on the list in the little red book.
The next day started just like all of the previous days, but unlike the normal Saturday morning, where I would be sluggish and hungover from a hard night of washing down tequila and whiskey shots with some nice mellow gin, I did not have the normal hangover, I actual felt human for a change. I was very confused, but luckily I had the little red book to look to for guidance. I flipped to the back and saw the list of names, he was right, it was a short list. The first name was one of my favorite people, Fred Phelps. It seemed that God wanted me to go to Topeka, Kansas and make Fred Phelps flaming gay. Or more accurately, make him finally admit to being flaming gay. I jumped in my blood red Benz and started down the freeway. It seems that the God had done some monkeying with my car as well for when I jumped on the freeway all of the cars seemed to have stopped, even the clock on the dash had stopped. I hit the accelerator and kept going faster and faster. It was like driving in Grand Theft Auto without the explosions and no wanted level. In no time at all I was standing outside of the compound of one Fred Phelps. It was not until then that I realized just how real all of this really was. It did not take me long to think of what I had to think to make the proper things happen. I did the deed and walked back to the car. I sat there for a while only to suddenly see an old man wearing a gingham dress with a feather boa go prancing across the street singing “I feel so pretty, so pretty and witty, so pretty and witty and GAY!” I felt a warm feeling of accomplishment come over me and looked down to see who was next on the list.
The next name was Dr. James Dobson. The focus on the family guy seems not to have made the happy list in God’s eyes. Does God even have eyes? I was being sent to find him where he slithered and make his entire family, and the children of all of the families that followed his misguided advice like it is gospel, sterile. It seems that since they were becoming utterly incapable of accepting people for who they are, they would now become incapable of bring more of themselves into the world. I figured it was an appropriate punishment and thought the thoughts that would make it happen. Although I would not be able to test to see if my treatment of them had worked I guessed I would just have to accept with faith that all good things would work out in the end.
The whole day was full of miracles and plagues. The list continues with Pat Robertson, GW, South Dakota, Rumsfeld, Cheney, and the whole cadre of Scientologists out there. It was all just more of the same except when I came back to my own house after a hard day of vengeance and added a new floor, a couple of nice solar panels and windmills. And decided that the creek needed a complete rework including a small waterfall and a trout pond. Midnight rolled along and my powers were gone but the marks they had left upon the world were permanent. The short list had been punished. Fox news was confused, and the Christian conservatives were in complete turmoil since most of their leaders were running around in dresses with feather boas. Amazed at how free they were now that they were finally in touch with who they really are.
When I awoke the next day I was gratified to find that the miracles and plagues had not turned themselves back and Fox was still showing clips of guys running around in Gingham dresses. By this time the media spin machine had come into effect and it had now been decided that Gingham on hand flapping effeminate men was in vogue. Even Bill O’Reilly was sporting a dress, and that certainly was not something that God had designed for him.
I called the girlfriend ala diem back and apologized, she forgave me completely but not until after Tuesday when I helped her get through the line at the DMV to get her new car titled in three and a half minutes. Even if the majority of my powers were gone I still have a few things I can do. You should see how much money I am saving now that I know how to turn water into wine and can make one bag of groceries feed the entire neighborhood.