Pat Robertson and That Voodoo That He Do So Well

Another in the popular Pat Robertson series:

–Hello, Mr. Robertson.  I would like to have a word with you.

–What?  Excuse me?  Pam!  PAM!

–Your secretary cannot hear you, Mr. Robertson.

–Pam!  What did you do to my secretary, you ni…

–Now watch your mouth, Mr. Robertson.  I would advise you to keep a civil tongue, if you know how to do that.

–Now look you.  I don’t know who you are, or what you’re selling, but you better get your ass out of here before I call security.  And put out that pipe!  There’s no smoking in this building!

–You can try to call security if you want to, but it won’t help you, Mr. Robertson.

–We’ll see about that!  Let me just pick up this phone and you’ll see just how quick…ouch!  I don’t get it.  Where the hell’s the dial tone?  Security!  Security!  Ouch!  Damn!  That hurts!  Look, get out of here!!   What the hell do you want?  I’m a busy man.  What’s with that doll?  Are you trying to sell me some kind of toy doll?  Well, I’m not buying!

–This doll is not for sale, Mr. Robertson.  Allow me to introduce myself.  I am Papa Legba.

–Papa Legba?  I never heard of you.

–No.  You don’t know me, Mr. Robertson.  But I know you.  Bondye sent me down here to talk to you.

–Bondye?

–You probably know him better as Jehovah.  You know, The All Mighty?

–Jesus, not another one!

–No, Mr. Robertson, Jesus couldn’t come today.  He asked me to come and have a word with you.

–Well I gotta tell you Papa Lego,

–LegBA

–Whatever.  I been reading the bible a long, long time, and I ain’t never heard of nobody like you.  Not in the bible, not in the Koran, not in any of the holy books!

–Mr. Robertson, may I respectfully suggest you wouldn’t know a holy book if it came up and bit you on your stupid white ass.

–How dare you talk to me that way, you OUCH!  What the hell are you doing with that doll?

–Oh, nothing much, Mr. Robertson.  May I suggest that it is possible that there are more holy ways than the paths you recognize as organized religions?

–I don’t get you.

–No, I don’t think you do.  I have come, Mr. Robertson, with a message from the heavenly creator.  You believe that God speaks to you, don’t you?  Well, the Lord is speaking to you right now, Mr. Robertson.  And the Lord is telling you to shut the fuck up!  Why is it you cannot control that stupid cracker mouth of yours, eh?

–Now wait just a damn minute there…

–I believe you said that the people of Haiti were suffering from an earthquake because they made a pact with the devil?

–Now that’s a true story.  I checked my facts.  It happened in that place…Bois Caiman.  That devil worshipper made a deal with the devil to kick out the French.  It’s in the history books.  Now don’t tell me the Lord doesn’t want me to speak the truth!

–Nobody made a deal with the Devil, Mr. Robertson.  The Devil doesn’t have time to make deals with slaves.  He’s too busy making deals on Wall Street.

–Yeah?  Well then YOU explain to me how a bunch of slaves were able to kick Napoleon out of their little shithole of an island, hah?

–Maybe in the same way that you Americans were able to seriously kick some British ass two hundred years ago?  Or maybe the fact that 10,000 French soldiers died of the yellow fever in the first six months of the war?  Maybe THAT had something to do with it? Or maybe it was because those “slaves”, as you call them, had better generals than the French expected.    Maybe it was because Napoleon was trying to fight wars all over the world.  You know, that imperialism will bite you on the ass everytime.

–Don’t give me that!  Everybody knows those people practice Voo-doo.  Everybody knows that’s a Satanic religion!

–It’s VouDOU, Mr. Robertson—not Voo-DOO.  And they don’t worship Satan, Mr. Robertson.  They pray to the same God you pray to.  Only they seem to be a lot closer to THEIR God than you are to yours.  That seems pretty certain.  I can assure you of this.  This tragic earthquake had nothing to do with any pacts with the Devil.  God does not punish people with natural disasters.  God doesn’t like these things any more than you do.  For one thing, the waiting room up there fills up pretty damn quickly whenever one of these things happens.  We don’t need the confusion.  It’s like the day after Thanksgiving up there.  These disasters are ever only a chance for you people, and I use the term loosely, to comfort and nurture one another.  An earthquake is certainly not an opportunity for you to start throwing blame around, you idiot.  Take a good look at this doll, Mr. Robertson.  Look familiar?

–I recognize that face…

–You should.  It’s the same stupid look I’m looking at right now.  You need to shut up, Mr. Robertson.  You need to quit speaking your mind because I would say you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.  In a battle of wits, you are decidedly unarmed, Mr. Robertson.  I suggest you stop shooting off your mouth, at least about my people, or I will be forced to  place this little pin… right… here.

–Ouch!  Damn, that hurts!

–Do you see what I mean?

–But I…OUCH! Okay!  Okay!  Whatever you say!

–I thought you would see things my way!  I appreciate your act of kindness.

–You aren’t like the other ones!

–The Lord works in mysterious ways, Mr. Robertson.  Good day.  And I suggest you give Pam the rest of the day off when she snaps out of her trance.  She’s going to need it when she sees that dead chicken on her desk.

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