A 7.o earthquake hits the Western Hemisphere’s poorest nature.  No, I’m not talking about the GPA of the dumbest motherfucker that ever lived at a state university.  I’m talking about a poor ass country being hit by an underground rumpshaker.  The capitol is Port-au-Prince, which looks like a telegraph message interrupted by an earthquake.  The most famous Haitian is Wycleff Jean, who is – deservedly so – their version of the 2nd coming of J.C.  The difference between him and the Almighty is that he’s been coming home and spending $$$ to make that hell hole a little less hellish, and ol’ J.C. has continued to play Dire Straits’ albums 24/7.  Unfortunately, Manger Man suddenly had a change in taste, and became a big fan of “Down Under” by Men at Work.  A bunch of Australians haven’t made this big of an impact on the world since the Great Foster’s Rebellion of Ought 32 O.Z.  As all of you know I’m sure, this was when Shane “Big Throat” Dundee led a campaign to oust Prime Minister Jim “Little Hands” Thickenbottom’s resistance to the oil-can sized swill.  Alcohol.  The cause of, and solution to, all of our problems.

Seriously, what the hell must you be thinking when you’ve been living in an old Kit-Mo selling twine for a living, just hoping you can save enough money cash to buy a bigger mule.  Then out of nowhere like a missed period, it all goes even straighter into hell for no rhyme and completely lacking in reason?  You know, the funniest thing is, on average, poor people are big believers in the existence of a higher beam – excuse me – being.  I absolutely, positively can’t imagine how in the fuck anyone remaining on what is left of that place doesn’t feel like He Hate Me.

Haiti is so poor, there is not even anything to loot.  Running around and stealing rocks just isn’t that cost effective.  Maybe this whole act of God was caused by – as Rev Robertson surmised – Haiti’s pact with the devil to free itself from the rule of the French.  Are you kidding yourself?  His makeup artist or hairpiece tech must have used some kind of new chemicals on the day Pat came up with this shit.  As if you’d even need the help of Luciricious to get away from the grips of the French.  Just tell them you’ve got a sling shot, a bunch of rocks, and you’re friends with the Germans, and they’ll tear out faster than Napoleon after not being tall enough to ride Splash Mountain.  If you’re a man of God, where do you come up with something like this?  Pacts with the devil?  You deserve to suffer because you wanted to get out from under the thumb of the French?  I can think of 700 reasons why this is ignorant.  1 through 699 is the realization the that preying on the minds of the masses who are asses will continue to allow him to live the high life here on Earth.  Number 700 is figuring out that – when you’ve lost some of your media luster – say some nutty shit and a good old-fashioned controversy will make you meaningful again.  How you could say something like this without wondering if that strange looking thing in the corner of your bedroom was The Happy to Kill Your Tired Ass Reaper?  Sure, it turns out to only be a pair of jeans and some socks; but if you’re that frightened by some garments in the dark, you obviously know your time card for hell is going to be punched soon enough.

There is nothing like religion to not explain anything, while giving you the answer for everything.  Natural disasters, plagues, and flocks of rabid geese are freaks of nature.  They are not caused by some jerk down the street saying “goddamn” too many times in a 24-hour period.  Earthquakes don’t destroy your whole country because you let your governmental Old Yeller loose on your masters, Pepe LePew.  If anything, Pat Robertson should have just plastered his wig, airbrushed his face, and said some shit like “In the Book of Dooty-on-me, the Lord said unto thoweth, Beezlebub shall noteth be hired to extract the hand of the Beret’d.”  See, it is just like the good Lord said, “You fuck with the French, an earthquake hits, and you’re only 20 miles from Belize.”