I am officially announcing the creation of the Contemporary Comedy Institute. Thank you.
What? You want more information? Damn, you people are nosey. I mean, do you go poking your nose in other religions business? Yes, religion. No, we won’t be one of them kid fucking, jihad having (okay, this one is actually more of a probably not), Sunday go to meeting kind of religions.
That’s because the CCI is EVERYWHERE! The CCI is in YOU! Shit! The CCI is YOU!
Trust me, the CCI is a religion for you. Do you know how I know that? Because I just said it. And if you can’t take my word for it, well, okay, that shows some good sense. But if you’re going to believe in some invisible guy in the sky why not believe in a guy you could actually buy a beer for?
Like all religions there was an origin and it began with me (so that makes me pretty damn important, bitches, so listen up!). But it’s not one of those mystical stories like finding stone tablets, or gold etched rules while looking in a hat, hell, I didn’t even make shit up like some ‘prophets’ we’ve heard of.
Because I know you’ve been burned by other religions and you weren’t with me, you’ll have to have faith the story I am about to reveal happened on the morning of November 9, 2008! What other religion can pinpoint an exact starting date? That makes us special. And you special with your participation (yeah, okay, we will be using some subtle messaging to get our tentacles on you but they’re nice, soft, smooth tentacles. Not icky, sucker encrusted tentacles. That’d be gross).
And heretoforthwith is the story of the creation of the consecrated bonds of the Contemporary Comedy Institute.
It started like so many days in this cold, cruel world. The sacred angel of punctuality, Brutus, stoodith uponeth my blanketed face to announce it was time to unleash a bounty of sustenance upon he and the benevolent angel of fuzz, Bundeschwager. NOW!
Having divine knowledge there was no other option, I arose from slumber and bequeathed nourishment into the holy bowls of foodstuffs! A loud hosanna was heard through the land. My work done (in six minutes), I began another rest (on the seventh minute). I may be a godhead but I’m not fanatical about checking up on things.
After enjoying their repast, my two angels joined me in my respite until it was time to rise again to begin my day fully. I will not give out the exact details of my morning constitutional not due to some nefarious plot to keep deep, dark secrets from the flock. I just have to give future scholars something to speculate. Gotta fuck with ’em, ya know?
Avast me hearties (yeah, sometimes we go pirate) my day began when my chariot whisked me to my place of employment (hey, gotta have a day job until this deity thing kicks in). The day began as many others. Checking of the hallowed email, listening to the sanctioned hymns, searching the sanctified pockets to make sure I had enough for the reverent coffee.
As of this moment in our day I’m sure you’re saying to yourself, “Whaddya say, gate? Are you in the know, or are you a solid bringer-downer?” (yes, we go jive also). But, remember, patience is a virgin, you little flockers.
It is when I am walking back to the office, coffee clutched in my fist, thoughts of no higher power in my head, the light was thrust upon me.
“Hi.” Greeted a specter holding aloft a treatise of some sort. It only took me a moment to see this was not a pamphlet that would interest me so I kindly (for it was still to early and caffeine free in the day to engage in badinage) turned down his offer.
“You’re going to hell it seems.”
I stop for a moment for you must give all the courtesy of your time (no matter how fleeting). I look at this person fluttering his tract in my face allowing his message of ‘Repent Sinners!’ to burn brightly in my face.
It was at that moment, when the cool fanning solidified my mind and life’s work. I took a step back because it was cold enough without some lunatic flapping shit in my face (Hey! I said courtesy of time was fleeting, didn’t I?).
“Actually, I’m going to work.” I sayeth my zinger.
It is at this moment, with the man in front of me, carriage full of nourishment for his clan, I come up with the raison d’être (yeah, we do French) for the CCI. As the idea percolates within my soul I notice a bumper sticker on this mans vehicle.
“Hey,” I say pointing to the message all in traffic behind him beholds while he slowly drives on. “Your bumper sticker says, Jesus shall supply all your needs.”
“Yes.” The man confidently states.
“Then why are you picking up shit at a grocery store? I mean, shouldn’t He be here for you? Or at least had whipped you up a little omelet?” As this man, redder faced than the flames of hell on his announcement, pushes his cart to separate us I knew what I had to do.
And the CCI is the what I had to do.
So I set forth to give us a countermeasure for when we are approached by those who will try to sully our way of life. Those who have never said, “Yeah, I’ll have one more. What’ll it hurt?” moments before being handcuffed and forcibly tossed into a law enforcement vehicle.
And that countermeasure is a pamphlet of our own. Just a little something to carry and pass out whenever approached by a leaflet fluttering non-believer. So I give forth to the world, the words which you will carry to those who approach with annoying intent. The guiding life-force which (along with any tithes you’d be willing to send) the CCI rests upon.
Laugh or die, bitches!
Print out the revered .jpg below and carry it with you to offer to all who refuse to see the way. The CCI way!
As the hours passed I was beginning to feel the weight of my work weigh heavily upon my tummy (yes, go to kidspeak but only when we’re light-headed). Then, as hunger enveloped my being and the assets in my sanctified pockets low, it was bestowed upon my life, just as I had earlier to my feline angels, victuals from an unlikely and unintelligible source (he spaketh in not a language comprehended by me) in the form of one hardboiled egg and two bananas. Which, from this day forward will be known by all believers as ‘The Two Dicks, One Testicle Breakfast’ (click here – http://tinyurl.com/55kpxu – to see that I’m not shitting you. Which will further seal my fate as the one true guy really weird shit happens to).
I hath spokpenith!