Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in celebration of free expression and in protest at the constitutional protection given to baseless superstition. You see, my god is bigger than your god. Its a fact. I’ve worshipped at many alters over the years, and all of them were bigger than your god too. Some of them embarrassingly so.
When I was a young lad I began to have certain urges. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’d never condone violence against a member of the clergy, and I’d certainly never claim to be doing the right thing in beating people who didn’t agree with me, but there was a certain Jesuit what got boxed fairly often though I doubt I’ll be going to hell for it. Or blind. Even back then, my god was bigger than your god.
As the years rolled on, my parents bought me my first guitar and I figured out rather quickly that chords were not just something used to bind unbelievers to the rack for punishment, and even better, it had a strange effect on fetching young ladies who I could get to help me with that Jesuit afore mentioned. Now that there was more than just myself choking vicars, my god was definitely bigger than your god. Not to mention making much more frequent apparitions to open minded ladies.
Many were the churches I prayed in, and many were the all night pilgrimages I took in pleasing my god, and often my god would wake me up in the mornings for a quick spot of confession, and at this stage, my god was bigger and had seen more of Limerick than most other gods.
Late one night, my god visited a lady and said unto her,
“Thou shall bear me a son”
And lo, a son was born unto the world.
He is still only two, so plenty of time for miracles yet, but none the less I’m pretty chuffed about the work I carried out in the name of my god.
My god certainly loves me. And he’s bigger than yours.