It has been put forth by many prominent anthropologists that the concept of god was born from the voice of thunder as frightened man-apes went running from the enormous booms.

Well this past Wednesday night, an enormous storm descended upon my great city and did a fair amount of damage. My own home fell victim to the outrageous plum-sized hail that pummeled my poor home on its western facing side. As you can see below, the hail punched several holes in my sliding screen door, ripped two screens right out of the window (I still haven't found one of them), chipped several pieces of vinyl siding, and smashed the hell out of an old ice cream bucket that my son keeps all of his outside rocks in.

There weren't any tornadoes despite the warnings but this storm still left my family (dog and cats included) huddled up in the basement with a flashlight, a jug of water and my police scanner.

I don't know if it was the voice of god or not but I do know whose going to foot the $500 deductible to fix all this shit and it isn't his royal majesty on high. Somehow Jesus and his father always seem to hit the bathroom when the check comes.