I am America (and so can you!) (47 page)

I A M A M E R I C A ( A N D S O C A N Y O U ! )

size. So everyone has to dodge the ants and beetles that are crushing buses in their powerful mandibles.

The correct answer:

Does my vision of a world without Christmas sound far-fetched? This is exactly
no

the future the Secul-azis want for your children and grandchildren. Big Secularism’s plan is to keep eroding our holiday. Little by little, they’re taking away a manger here, a “Come All Ye Faithful” there, until pretty soon there’s nothing left. That’s why we’ve got to dig in our heels and celebrate the holiday bigger than ever. If you usually get one tree, this year get two. If you usually do two, have five. The BSists need to understand that there is no
Jesus hasn’t

number of trees we are unwilling to cut down to prove our point.
forgiven you for that

Cross, trees.

EVOLUTION IS REAL!

You heard me! Y’see, there’s nothing I like more than using the Big Secularism against itself.

You say Man evolved? Well, Man was made in God’s image, so God must have evolved too. I adapted your precious “Ascent of Man” chart to a higher purpose:

How does it feel now, Secularists? You can’t possibly argue with this—

because it’s
your
theory. Based on this chart, Jesus clearly adapted over time to take on attributes that would help Him send you to Hell. In your monkeyevolved faces!

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A C H A N C E F O R AV E R AG E A M E R I C A N S TO AG R E E W I T H W H AT I T H I N K

I think it’s wonderful that Stephen has written such a

considerate chapter on Me. Hopefully these pages will decrease

the number of skeptics out there, though I understand why

some people are atheists and agnostics. It’s not going to spare them the Eternal torment of Hell, but I understand. Hey, my

fault for giving you all Free Will.

I could convince everybody that I exist by stepping up the

Divine Interventions, but there are only so many hours in the

God

day, you know?

Maker of All that Is

This gets to the main question that everyone usually asks Me:

Seen and Unseen

If I’m so all-powerful, why don’t I answer everyone’s prayers?

The answer: I used to.

Back in the day, fewer people prayed for me to do things for them. There was a lot more thanksgiving, and it’s less time-consuming to answer prayers that are praising you for things. Those were the good old days. Now it’s gimme, gimme, gimme. It especially shows up in sports. Used to be, you never had both sides pray for victory. One team max, and 9 times out of 10 that team was Notre Dame. Now, you’re guaranteed to have counteracting prayers. What am I supposed to do? For Me, it’s literally a no-win situation. I usually have no choice but to answer the prayer of whichever team is better.

Of course, I can’t get caught playing favorites. So if I do help a team, it’s not going to be with something cool and dramatic like a line drive that suddenly lifts up and carries over the fence. Instead, I usually just go back in time and make the winning team have practiced more.

I mean, if there’s one team that is clearly more righteous, yes, I’ll help that team, although sometimes I’ll help the team of sinners instead because I love a good underdog. Plus that nudge might set them on the righteous path, or there could be a sick kid, or there’s some other factor... you know what? It’s complicated. You’d really have to be Everywhere.

Oh, and let me say this—if I have money on a game, I never help either team. No exceptions.

So, in regular life, why do I answer some prayers and not other prayers? Pretty much the same reasoning as sports. Do I return the runaway to her family, or do I get that guy his dream job? (Yes, I do pair up all prayers.)

It’s not totally random. I have a system, although I can’t really explain it in a way that will make sense to someone without Ultimate Knowledge. Put it this way: If I’ve helped you find your car keys 20 times, don’t bother calling Me when you get a tumor. You guys in the USA don’t know how good you have it. Your nation is crazy blessed already. When the Dow breaks 14,000—that’s a mudslide in Guatemala. So, you know, try to keep it in perspective.

And by the way, I always have money on the Super Bowl and the Kentucky Derby, so don’t waste your breath.

FUN

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Part Two

I was thirteen when we moved from the dirt road where I grew up to the big city of Charleston, where the rich kids lived—kids whose families had been there since it had been Charles Towne or, even earlier, Chuck Mound. My new school gave me an opportunity I never had before—getting beaten up every day. On those rare days when I was not beaten, the next morning I’d find a note in my locker: “Sorry we forgot to beat you yesterday. We’ll beat you twice as hard today.” No one can touch Southerners for manners. The daily beatings lost some of their intensity during the football season, when my jock tormentors were able to split their latent Homosexual Rage between my torso and their locker-room hijinks. This lull allowed my swelling to go down, and it turned out I had facial features. The girls noticed. Soon I was a regular on the debutante circuit where I tried scoring a few “touchdowns” of my own. The beatings began again. Some of those debs were pretty tough. When I left for college, I was determined never to be a victim again. I would take my lead from the Hollywood tough guys I had always looked up to: Charles Bronson, Clint Eastwood, Ned Beatty. So on Day One of my freshman year at Dartmouth, I walked into class and punched the first person I saw—my Ethics professor, Dr. Buneta. Judging by the grade he gave me, holding a grudge passes for “ethical” in the Ivy League. I don’t know what the big deal was. That beard had to absorb some of the impact.

I include this coming-of-age tale because it encompasses the five big Ss of Adolescence:

School, Sports, Sex, Sodomy, and the Silver Screen.

Trust me, they’re all in there.

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fig 7.
S T E P H E N C O L B E R T

C H A P T E R 5

“No time for losers, ’cause we are the Champions...of the World”

–Freddy Mercury, Glam Rock God and sports
queen

GENERALLY SPEAKING, I’M NOT A

NOW,
BIG FAN OF SPORTS. IT’S A WASTE

OF BOTH TESTOSTERONE AND

BLIND, FERVENT ALLEGIANCE, BOTH

OF WHICH WOULD BE BETTER DIRECTED TOWARDS OUR

MILITARY. BUT THERE IS NO QUESTION THAT SPORTS IS

A HUGE PART OF OUR CULTURE THESE DAYS. THERE ARE

dozens of TV channels devoted exclusively to sports—channels you can’t remove from your cable package and stop paying for, even if you make it clear that’s what you want.

Respond to my

letters, Comcast!

So, if I’m no cheerleader of sports, why write a chapter about it? Sports do have some positive impact on society. They solve problems, such as how to get inner-city kids to spend $175 on shoes. They serve as a backdrop for some of our most memorable commercials. And they remain the one and only relevant application of math. Not only that, but we have sports to thank for most of the last century’s advances in manliness. The system starts in school, where gym class separates the men from the boys. Then those men are taught to be winners, or at least, losers that hate themselves.

Nothing puts hair on

your chest like shame.

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