Woofer On The Road To Hell

I like to think of myself as a nice person. Caring, moderate sense of humor, willing to help little old ladies cross the street as long as they don't walk faster than I do. I'm a little on the homely side, but probably not in competition to make the centerfold of the December issue of Hobbit Playboy Magazine. Well, the hairy feet might be a little bit of a turnoff, but if you pretend they're Doc Martens they're pretty cool.

Anyway, I digress. And I digress well. And frequently. In fact, I think I might be doing it again.

Back on topic......like there really is one (digression again).

Imagine my surprise the other day when I received an email from a rather irate person stating, "God hates you and he's going to come and kick your ass."

Now I always thought God kind of liked me. When I was just a tiny woofer in Sunday school they taught me that God was a God of love and that Jesus loves me. This I know. For the bible tells me so. Little woofers to him belong........damn, digressing again.

Apparently my church had this wrong. God loves you only if you do certain things and vote for certain political parties. Now I usually don't do politics. First of all I have no party affiliation. I have been asked by all the major political parties not to join. Republicans, Democrats, Libertarians, even the PETA Party (do they feel sorry for themselves?)

I have to hate certain kinds of people. I have to write my congressman and request that he pass legislation so that it's legal for all the good folks to shoot these people on sight. Or at least soundly whomp their asses. I have to seriously believe that America, the country I dearly love, is perpetually on the verge of falling, usually by next Tuesday at 10:00. If I refuse to live in eternal fear I will feel the WRATH OF GOD! And there was a whole laundry list of other stuff I could do and couldn't do to stave off this serious ass kicking that God has scheduled for me.

Now woofers in general are a peaceful group. We're basically neither left or right, choosing to pick the best from both sides and kind of leave the bad stuff to others. Unless extremely threatened, the average woofer is not prone to violence or insane outbursts of anger or hate. We dislike intense physical pain and are allergic to bullets. They make us break out in big round holes that bleed.

Sheesh.....I made it through all of that without a digression. Tried real hard too.

Anyway, if you don't hear from me again, and all my blogs, Facebook posts, and tweets disappear overnight you can be pretty sure what happened. God came down and beat me to a pulp. A woofer pulp. A tiny little puddle of fur and ick that probably won't be getting up and walking again. And then I'm gonna be cast into the fiery pits of hell with scary demons using implements purchased from the Spanish Inquisition Surplus store who will torture me throughout eternity. 'Cause woofers are no match for an angry God.

And if He reads this blog it's probably a pretty sure bet that I'm doomed, screwed, outta luck.

Sorry God. Whatever I did I didn't mean to do it.


I'm Woofer, and I approved this message.