For millennia mankind has worshiped many different deities, from the Earth-Goddess of the pre-Indo-European Iberians to the modern God of the monotheistic faiths. These gods have been the inspiration for laws, figureheads for nations, and causes of massive and bloody wars. Of course, most of these gods have a notoriously bad track record when it comes to customer service. You see, for all their pageantry, grandeur and supernatural powers, all these gods are complete and utter bubkis.

Huitzilopochtli didn’t protect their Aztec worshipers from those nasty conquistadors or the diseases they brought with them. Joan of Arc fought blindly for her God, and was rewarded by being thrice cursed, a schizophrenic, burned at the stake, and born French. Let’s not even get into the history of the Jews, who, as God’s chosen people, have had a peachy last 4000 years… and it just keeps getting better for ‘em!

No my friends, these gods are of no use to decent, hardworking, and thoughtful people like you or me. Let me share with you a revelation I received but a few years ago. There I was, innocently sipping on my tenth beer of the night, a belly full of steak, potatoes, and funions. McClintock was playing on the TV, when the famous “I won’t hit you… The hell I won’t! [wack]” scene was playing. I was suddenly struck by a mighty vision.

Heavenly clouds parted to reveal a mighty throne. A bold figure walked down from this great seat and greeted me with a handshake and a grin. Lo, to my surprise who did I behold but The Duke himself, the holy spirit of our Lord and Savior, John Wayne. And he was not alone in his place of power, for on his left was his lieutenant, The King of Rock and Roll, Elvis Presley. His Red-Right hand, Lee Marvin was also at his side.

Since this was Heaven, there was a most righteous Bar-B-Que going. Bountiful amounts of meat were slowly cooking on the grill, while sweet beer flowed from inexhaustible fountains. Beautiful women walked hand in hand with heroes from generations past. Our Lord offered me a steak and a beer. Before I was finished with my luscious meal he took me aside.

“Son,” he said, “I didn’t just bring you up here for some dinner.”

I took a deep drink of my beer, expecting terrible news, then looked up at our Lord’s beneficent contenance and was calmed by his kind eyes.

“I’ve got a message for you ta take back with you. Now, I’ve been gone a long time now, and I know it seems like things are getting worse every year, and they damn well are. But I want you to spread the news. When things seem their worst, me and my friends’ll be coming back. And we’ll be looking to kick some commie ass, or those dirty Nazi sons O’ bitches if we can find any of ‘em.”

After that, The Duke let me finish my meal, and then sent me back down to our miserable mortal realm. I’m left to spread his holy message: The Duke is coming back, and, as Dennis Leary predicted, he’s going to be pissed. He is indeed the one true God, for I’ve seen it with my own eyes.

Glory, Glory, Hallelujah. Amen