Being one of my chosen people isn’t exactly a walk in the park.
I expect you to follow a few rules—and if you don’t, then… um… I’m really not going to like you.
My most important law pretty much goes without saying, but I’ll point it out, anyways: Don’t mate different kinds of cattle. Very few things annoy me more than interracial cows.
Let me preface the next rule by telling you a little about myself and my history.
For starters, I’m a pretty emotional guy. Some might even call me… insane. (By the way—if you ever call me that, I’ll send ten plagues and seventy seven aftershocks right into your colon.)
If, say, my toaster doesn’t work, I’m liable to pretty much lose it. If my favorite TV show is cancelled, I might destroy an entire network. (Take that, Dumont!) Whenever I watch Beaches, I’m in tears by the opening credits. And when I heard the one about the rabbi and the priest, I laughed so hard that Manischewitz came out of my nose.
And of all of my emotions, one stands out more than the others: jealousy.
You can’t even begin to imagine how jealous I am. When I heard rumors that the Angel Billy was converting to atheism, I contemplated committing a murder-suicide (—which, oddly enough, would’ve made that godless bastard right—although he would’ve been too dead to know it.)
Now, back in the really old days when I was running one of my former universes, I designated a group known as the Setilearsi as my chosen people.
I gave them land, laws, protection, holidays—the works.
Then one day I saw a few of them worshipping another god—and that was it. I flew into a mad Yahwetic Yahwrage—and the next thing I knew, their entire universe was gone.
So what’s the moral of this story?
DO NOT WORSHIP ANY OTHER GODS (—especially that rat bastard Baal)!
I don’t care if your best friend, Madonna, Tom Cruise, Kirk Cameron, and the Dalai Lama are all telling you how hip their god (notice the lowercase g) is, or even if that “god” (notice the quotation marks) personally comes down there and hands you a suitcase full of cash.
It’s all about me, me, and only me.
And I expect you to do more than just worship me.
I want you to love me using all your strength, all your heart, all your soul, and 3% of your unblemished lambs.
Alright?
OK.
Moving on…
Do not misuse my holy name.
You know what? Just forget my holy name, period.
From now on, refer to me as “God. James God.”
And that pretty much wraps it up.