Opiate of the Masses Issue, The Record, 04/06

A Letter to the Virgin Mary

Mary, Baby,
Look, I’m sorry it’s come to this, but I’ve got to put My foot down and stop this behavior of yours. Don’t get Me wrong – it was funny at first. I was all, “Haha, Mary has shown up in the bark of the tree of knowledge again.” And “Oh shit, now she’s in My cheese fries!” But it’s not funny anymore. I think it’s creepy. And I created creepy! Just yesterday the lines of My palm transformed into a red, chapped image of your face.
I went to Miss Shaka down the street so she could deign to interpret my fate and when I showed her My palm, all she did was cry, “Oly voodoo, eetza miracle!” and repeat 10,000 Hail Marys. When your face appears on the hood of My Caddy as I roll down the street sippin’on gin and juice and the blood of Christ, I do not consider that as adding to the overall pimpitude of my ride. I had to write “Mary is my homegirl” under it to cover for Myself. As you can see, this gotta stop. I’m done game-hatin’ and now I gotta hate the playa, and Mary, you da playa. In the past 24 hours alone, I have seen you in the mirror as I pop My God- zits, on the shower door glass when I shave My God-bits, in My holy water AND holy OJ, in My Divine-o’s, and in the face of 17 different blind children. Oh wait, scratch that bit about Divine-o’s. I guess all of our faces appear there in the little-chewy marshmallow form. Those guys at General Mills didn’t get Jesus right at all. Too big in the hips. I mean, I’m just sayin’: those aren’t My hips! Maybe if you stopped appearing all over the place and clocked in more time train- ing with the Holy Spirit Crunch Time video set I got you, people wouldn’t think Our Son has big-booty hips...I’m sorry baby. I didn’t mean that. What was I saying?
Look. I understand why you find it necessary to remind me of your exis- tence everywhere I look. I’m late with my alimony payments; but I told you baby, once my miracle spring water infomercials take off the ground, I’m gold! I know I haven’t called you in a while, but my Cingular has been cutting out for periods of more than four hours! As for these allegations that I raped you, maybe emotionally, I’ll admit it, but that’s the whole thing with Immaculate Conception! Gabriel said you were chill with it.You signed the contract. It was a done deal. Besides, I didn’t even get near your nether-regions, ok Miss Virgin with a capital V! When I met you, you were still hanging out with that loser Joseph and his Hasbro tool set. I took you and made you a star! Without me, you’d probably be stuck in a manger and asleep on the hay not because of our amazingly conceived publicity stunt (“conceived” Haha. I still got it. Bam!), but because that’d be your bed! Didn’t God make sure to hook you up in heaven? Weren’t you on the last episode of Cribs, MTV Heaven edition? So quit complaining and, more importantly, get out of my life. For once, Mary, I’d like to take a walk and not find your image on the tongue of my vintage Nike Dunks. So give it a rest. The joke is old.

Peace out,
God