Jesus I'm on my knees begging your forgiveness this morning.
I know that your father set aside Sundays for rest and reflection. And on the seventh day he rested.
It's a day that should be spent becoming more humble and more awestruck in the glory of The Lord.
I understand this fully and usually spend Sundays with my ass (forgive me) in the recliner simultaneously becoming more awestruck and cheering your favorite,Kevin Harvick, on to victory.
Today greed and avarice have gotten in the way. Pagans and peasants, sinners all, at The New Hampshire State Liquor Commission have decided that all stores shall be open on Sunday. And they shall be staffed.
Jesus, I am working today.
I know that you might think there is greed and avarice in play on my part as well, as I am getting paid time and a half. Bringing my hourly rate up to $1.50.
You know as well as I do that the poverty I am currently experiencing was your doing. It's your fault. You made me an accountant, which ruined my psyche for life. You made my business fail, which crushed all ambition. And now you make me dance at the hands of cretins, those greedheads at the NHSLC.
I am not a bitter man. I know you have a plan for me. I know you created Crown Royal to help me negotiate that plan. But I have sinned egregiously and consistently for decades. I don't want today to be the straw that broke the camel's back.
So please, watch over and guide me as I dispense alcohol to desperate souls in need of strong libation. Smile benevolently on my own soul as I pretend to be cheery and upbeat with egghead customers. Forgive me if I steal a nip or dip into the till. Its your fault anyway.
This prayer is not going as I intended. If I insult you, please forgive me. I am just trying to establish some equilibrium within our relationship.
Come on, admit it - you are not perfect. Am I right? You made mistakes with your own life (how did you not see Judas coming?) You have made mistakes with mine.
I forgive you. I know you are distracted. Especially with Tim Tebow on the scene.
Let's keep today between the two of us. Don't tell your Dad.
Help me get through it and get me home in time to see the last 50 laps and Kevin Harvick's first victory of the year.
There may be more Sundays in my future, Lord. I cannot continue to feed my wife cat food three days a week. I apologize in advance. And forgive you. Because they will be your fault too.
One favor, if I may. It would stretch our budget considerably if you would turn water into Crown Royal.
Thank you, Jesus, for all you have bestowed upon me. Thank you for your love. Thank you for your understanding. Thank you for not making me go bald. Yet.
I wear my hair long in emulation of you. Maybe not. I am consistently confused.
Anyway have a good day. Enjoy peace in heaven.
By the way what kind of TV's do you have in heaven? They must have killer resolution.
Ciao, Jesus.
Love ya, baby.
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