People are going to think I’m crazy, and that’s fine—I’ve come to terms with the reality that one defining characteristic of a test of faith is that you are the only person aware of the test. To be sure, greater people than humble me have lived with this affliction. Joan of Arc dealt with criticism, as did Abraham, Noah, and Ollie North.

There is little doubt that this chalice of abuse will now be passed to me. I will drink from it greedily, for underneath it all it means that the green tinges of envy have risen from below the collars of the naysayers and has clouded their vision—they wish that divinity had chosen them to bestow the gifts of the Lord upon.

Behold my pretzel. I’ve been holding onto it for a couple of years now, ever since I rescued it from a dear friend who had, in a rare moment of weakness, separated it out from her bag of Pennysticks and was nearly about to dispose of it (by eating it). I have no anger towards her, however. The Lord works in mysterious ways, and giving her the gift of careless hunger was His way of getting this precious snack into my hands. Now, after having kept it safe past the point of it being appetizing, I think I am going to sell it on eBay. Seeing, though, how I care for my readers above almost all else (besides the good Lord, bearer of the gift of divine salted bread sticks through which all high-quality things flow), I’ve decided to give you all first dibs at bidding. I’ve set the minimum for $650 big ones. Best of luck to you all. Bid through the comments, please, or feel free to send a private bid through the contact page.

PS—This prick thinks he’s got something over me. Do God’s work and please destroy his rating.