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    God Has a Plan for You! But It's Fucking Stupid
    God Has a Plan for You! But It's Fucking Stupid
    God Has a Plan for You! But It's Fucking Stupid
    Ebook112 pages1 hour

    God Has a Plan for You! But It's Fucking Stupid

    By Michael Ciupka

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    About this ebook

    How would I describe this book? Rectangular in shape. Filled with words. Some words arranged into clever sentences, others not so much. Read at your own risk, lifeguard OFF duty! (No animals were harmed in the making of this book. Several trees were.)

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMichael Ciupka
    Release dateSep 24, 2021
    ISBN9798201944025
    God Has a Plan for You! But It's Fucking Stupid
    Author

    Michael Ciupka

    Michael has been a saintly and inspiring presence since the day he received his first gift of myrrh. Whether walking on water (frozen at the time), or distributing satiating amounts of loaves and fishes (as a part-time fry-cook), Michael has been performing the miraculous since time immemorial (1972 to be specific). To learn more of his philanthropic wisdom and insight, pick up a copy of the Bible.

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      Book preview

      God Has a Plan for You! But It's Fucking Stupid - Michael Ciupka

      Pointless Introduction

      I’m constantly being told that if I want to have a best-selling book, I need to find a better way to relate to people. I’m supposed to talk about things like jobs, kids, relationships, and other crap that bores the fuck out of me.

      I get along gloriously with just about anyone, but most of the time it’s an act. Most of the time I’d rather be elsewhere — like drinking my face off in a dark, secluded, smoky room, away from the endless

      varieties of brain-dead pinheads walking the streets.

      That prolly ain’t the wisest of ways to start a book. I’m sure the labelling has already begun. Mike is negative. Mike is judgemental. Mike is a douchebag asshole with an inflated ego and massive insecurity complex.

      Perhaps.

      But if I can’t be honest with myself, what’s the fucking point?

      I don’t give a fuck about what you watched on TV last night. I don’t give a fuck about the quirky thing your kid did this morning. I don’t want to discuss the weather with you, and I don’t give a flying fuck about your hair, shoes, hubby, or dietary restrictions. Kindly fuck off, so I can go about my business of not fitting into this shit-hole society.

      While pondering those happy-happy sentiments, I realized a demographic still exists that I can relate to...

      The fringe-dwellers. The ones who like to rebel. The ones who realize the status quo is entirely fucked. The ones disinterested in the mundane. The ones who are just as xenophobic as I am, and perhaps as equally lost, confused, unmotivated, and/or completely unsure what reason they have to open their eyes each morning.

      This writing goes out to them.

      Everyone else, go fuck your hat.

      Pointless Chapter

      Most people live their lives from cradle to grave without putting much effort into pondering the greater mysteries of existence. That’s not a surprise. The top priority of a responsible parent is to train their youngling to survive, and teach them the acceptable behaviours of an upstanding citizen — practical insight like:

      Eat food, not dirt.

      Don’t stick your tongue in the light socket.

      Stop shitting your pants.

      Don’t punch your friend in the face.

      Get good grades, get a fucking job.

      Get married, buy a house, breed, be happy, love Jesus, die.

      Shit like that.

      As a child of the Catholic schooling system, I learned early not to be a questioner. Approaching a teacher or priest with a vexing existential scenario always ended in a similar response:

      It’s a mystery, Michael, just have faith.

      Yeah, thanks asshole, very helpful. Why the fuck are you in charge of my spiritual evolution?

      I would have been far more impressed with basic honesty — for my authority figure to admit their current lot in life was just as confounding as mine, regardless of the fact I was only in Grade 2. But no conversation of that sort ever took place. The school system focused on training us to follow rules...

      Be a good student, you’ll reap the rewards.

      Memorize and repeat the information we teach, and the collection of gold stars and straight A’s you acquire will impress mommy and daddy to no end.

      Misbehave, and you’ll be branded a trouble-maker — a label that’ll stick to you like dried jizz till the end of your days.

      I learned early to not put a lot of faith in adults. Not only could they not answer the questions I was most confused about, they always had a separate set of rules that applied only when convenient to them...

      You can’t drink coffee till you’re older, because it’s bad for you.

      Hmm, then why the fuck are you doing it?

      You can’t drink alcohol till you’re older, because it’s bad for you.

      Hmm, then why the fuck are you doing it?

      You can’t eat too many cookies, because they’re bad for you.

      Hmm, then why the fuck do you keep buying them?

      You can’t stay up late, because getting a good night’s rest is very

      important to your health.

      Hmm, then why the fuck do you fall asleep on the couch watching TV till 2 in the morning?

      A thousand more examples exist, but you get the point. Adult hypocrisy was rampant as I grew up. They always enforced rules for our greater good, but didn’t seem to put much of their wisdom into practise for themselves.

      And it wasn’t just the hypocrisy. Much of the shit spouted from their pie-holes were outright lies, often intellectually insulting to boot...

      Once a year, a magical fat-man sneaks into all domiciles, everywhere in the world, bearing a sackful of gifts. He has a fetish for cow milk and sugar-laden treats, and is intent upon delivering presents tailored specifically to your whims — but ONLY IF YOU’RE GOOD! So get your shit together, already. He watches everything you do 24/7, and keeps immaculate notes. If you end up on his Naughty list, you can forget about the Malibu Barbie dollhouse. Maybe scrubbing coal dust out of your stocking for the next 12 months will knock some sense into your renegade ways, bitch...

      Yeah, didn’t take long to see through that pathetic psy-op. It may have even worked for several more years if the idiots hadn’t embellished the tale with reports of flying fucking reindeer, or a slave-race of Arctic midgets building toys.

      Here’s another good one...

      If you keep masturbating, you’ll go blind.

      Wow, scary. But at the time of this writing, I’m 48, and still maintaining 20/20 vision. I’m officially calling bullshit on that theory as I punch out another load.

      Swimming beside a girl in a bikini causes pregnancy.

      Yeah, right. Don’t spooge in her twat would have been far more practical advice.

      As we got older, grew some hair on our nasty bits, and realized that lies and deceit were the fundamental traits of adult behaviour, we decided to adopt those idiosyncrasies for ourselves — as a means to explore autonomy, to experience the wild taboos forbidden from our consideration.

      Maybe you stole a cigarette out of Mommy’s pack to find out what the hoopla was all about. Maybe you snuck out your bedroom window, after being grounded by Daddy, to go to a party. Maybe you used your allowance money to pay off some sketchy dude walking into the beer store to bring you a six-pack, so you and your friends could find out why running alcohol through your blood-brain barrier was immoral.

      Rebellion exists because adults do a piss-poor job raising children. But of course parents don’t actually raise kids anymore. They leave that critical responsibility to a state-run system — patterned from a European model devised to train offspring to be nationalistic, obedient citizen-workers, not independent thinkers. And when the kiddies aren’t sitting in their classrooms, bored out of their fucking skulls listening to a flunky douchebag teacher following a passionless, mandated

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