The Lesson of Sega Genesis 24:7
"And the squareheaded whitey did take his nine and put it to the dome of the LORD and did thereafter boastfully proclaim, 'You bes' be handin' ovah dem gol' chaaains, biatch!'. And the LORD was displeased and the firmament did shake and rumble and moan and groan with much unction... For the squareheaded whitey had transgressed the whims of his creator. Sipped he had from the Bottle in the Brown Paper Bag of Evil... And sipped repeatedly, with reckless abandon... But lo, a spirit did dwell in the Bottle and it did announce, 'Ha ha! Woe unto you, Squarehead, for thou cannot holdest thine liquor. Violent and rapeful do you become. Thou beatest thine wife and molesteth thine children under mine influence, yea until the blood runeth down thine hand. From this day forwards,  I am become Whiskey, Destroyer of Homes'." 

Sega Genesis 24:7

Is this you? Have you ever dreamed of luring that punk-ass Almighty bitch down to Earth so you can bust a cap in his ass good and proper? Tired of worshiping some fat old bastard in a flying clam who threatens you from up in Heaven, talkin' trash 'bout you gettin' some stanky on the hang-down? Tired of being smitten with floods and plagued by locusts? Are frogs raining down upon you at this very moment, 'cause you done sinned agregiously against a so-called "God"?

What kind of god would refuse an invitation to come down to Earth and slam a couple fourties with his homies? You his homey, right? I mean, if you and "God" ain't homies, then why you be stuffin' scrilla down that collection box- as if the most powerful being in the universe has to hustle your hard earned money just to make the ends. Is heaven gonna get reposessed if you don't help the Big Man out? Try this. Drop whatever you are doing at the moment and pray these words with me, right here and now. Say, "Jesus"; yes, "Jesus"... "How 'bout you an' me gets together an' burn one? You know, smoke some fry and sip some King Cobra... maybe get our freak on wit some fly honeys that you gots up there in heaven witchoo. You know, Cleopatra an' Hellen A' Troy an' shit."

If you prayed these words with me, and I hope you did, then you have taken the first step in the most importants jorney you are ever going to take... The journey towards understanding that there ain't no way that God is gonna come down ta da Eart' an' smoke a bowl witch yo' raggedy ass. I know, its a sad thought... maybe even a sobering thought... but "God" doesn't give a damn about you. Now I'm not going to make any fancy speculations about God being dead, never having existed in the first place, or being assasinated and replaced by an unnamed 19th century poet/philosopher/philologist on a frosty morning in May 1898 when he was lured to a grassy knoll somewhere in the Erzgebirge and ruthlessly gunned down... Cause I ain't in the business of making those kind of speculations. Them kinda speculations can get a body a serious beat down, so I ain't gonna make them.

Anywho, in principle, Governmentology is unlike any other religion out there. Whereas other religions exist in the aspiration of making the world a better place, we really don't care. In most cases, we're actively working to make the world an even worse place than it is already, be it for reasons of personal gain, aesthetic experimentation, or elaborate schemes to enact interpersonal vendettas. This puts us at a natural advantage from the get-go, as our followers need not manifest themselves as individual representations of our lofty aims. In other words, they aren't commanded to be "lights unto the world" or some other garbage concoted for propaganda purposes merely to sadisticly deprive them of poontang. Governmentology exists simply for its own amusement, much like the common species of ghetto thug who gets lightly toasted in the morning chill while he watches his neighbors trudge dutifuly off to work. Maybe we'll pry open your window and thieve your worldly possesions once we know for certain that you are gone, at work, in your shit job taking orders from some fat, beauraucratic, middle-management redneck. Then again, maybe we won't. Uncertainty is the price you pay for entering our magical, fantastical, whimsical world.