Mobile home God

Yahweh’s appointed messengers took a deep breath as they stepped from the shadows into Pharaoh’s presence. And then spoke sharply, with fire in their bellies:

Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel: Let my people go!

But Pharaoh was not impressed. “Get back to work you shiftless immigrants. You think you can just waltz into this country and take jobs from tax-paying citizens! You dirty greasers don’t know how good you’ve got it here!”

But the messengers of the Wetback God cried out again: Let my people go!

Which only infuriated Pharaoh more. “You ungrateful, freeloading darkies! Don’t you think you’ve had preferential treatment long enough? You got another thing comin’!

But the messengers of the Slave God were persistent: Let my people go!

By now Pharaoh was hopping-mad. “You ignorant white trash! You think you can live on welfare? You and your redneck kids ought’a be grateful the sheriff don’t run you out’a town!”

But the messengers of the Mobile Home God would not relent: Let my people go!

Pharaoh wouldn’t budge. “In fact, from now on, production is gonna speed up. Keep up or ship out!” Frustrated, the factory-line slaves started fighting each other. No one had taught them to sing together:

All sing: Ain’t gonna let nobody turn me around!

©Ken Sehested @ Followed by singing of “Aint’ Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Around”