Unlike SOME ungodly long-winded people, I will keep it short and simple:
Bob is fun to hate.
I love Bob.

According to Hannah Arendt, “the sad truth is that most evil is done by people who never make up their minds to be good or evil.”

It’s a good thing someone decides.

Someone decided to appoint himself God, Pope, and Most Loyal Follower of His own religion. Hence there is Bob.

Don’t tell Bob that He can’t do it. In the words of basketball coach John Wooden, “Do not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do.” (In this case, the term ‘you’ makes this whole affair even more delightfully ticklish. Read on.)

There’s not only Bob, of course. He’s one aspect of a duality, which I appreciate, given my suspicion that God (assuming one) smacks strangely of a distinctly nonclassical theological duality. That is, God is less a diametrically opposed pairing of two separate and warring opposites and more of a schizophrenic.

In a healthy way, of course. And in Bob’s case it’s all wonderful, impressive, blah, blah, blah. After all this is a testimonial. But to leave this at the level of the standard requisite ass-kissing would be to gloss over an enticing depth.

Bob’s seeming duality resembles Carl Sagan’s “exquisite balance between two conflicting needs.” I say ‘seeming’ because I believe that The Great And Powerful Bob’s not merely a Dualism. That’d be simplistic, a Bob For Dummies primer for beginners. Having done some advanced coursework on Bob, I instead believe that He’s one arm of The Dialectic Incarnate, a living weapon against dogmatism.

After all, the Catholics have long had their own three-in-one special, like a magical mystery closet at a strange carnival. “Come see the Nebulous Mystery,” cries the Ringmaster in the big, funny hat, “Only a buck!” He gestures at a vaguely coffin-like contraption standing on its end. “Come see the Mystery!” He spins the box on its base; it leaks glitter and incense at the crowd. An audience lured, the Ringmaster stops the spinning box and throws open a garish closet door- “Aha!”- to reveal a guy standing there looking bored. “Look, it’s God!” Slamming the door shut, the Ringmaster chucks some quick incantations and waggling fingers at the crowd, spins the box again then peels it open to reveal . . . what, three guys jammed in there like anchovies in a can? The crowd’s amazed, awed even! The three guys manage a packed shrug. “M’eh, it’s a living,” they mutter in unison.

And I suspect that the spokes of Bob’s triune unity are arranged differently, not merely stacked like logs as with the aforementioned Trinity. In other words, Bob’s spokes are connected. But are they posed in a flywheel arrangement, spinning from a unifying center? Are they connected in that most honorable and basically pokey framework, the Triangle? And just who or what is that (to date) invisible third member? Who knows? I believe Bob is flexible about such matters, but you’d have to ask Him yourself.

Just don’t ask Steve/Stephen/Him.

Bob is right when he says he is a dick. Always be careful around him. He has a good sense of humor but is in fact a bit of a sadist. I never seem to catch him around during the day...