Compiled from oral tradition, glove-compartment receipts, and the
uncontested testimony of those who have stood beside Him in the
Whataburger queue.
Chapter I
Of His Origin
He was born on the Twenty-Second Day of November, in a year the
Sanctuary refuses to disclose, for it is not for the laity to
measure His age in numbers. He emerged from the Dakotas. The Lord
has not yet revealed which one. North and South alike have lodged
their claims, and both, in His mercy, are tolerated.
When the surname was read at the registry, the clerk is said to
have looked up, looked down, and looked up again. There was no
mistake. The boy's name was Godly. The clerk filed the document
and never spoke of it.
And it shall come to pass, in the latter days of the Republic,
that a child shall be born of the upper plains, and his surname
shall be a verdict, and the Cowboys shall not yet have won a
Super Bowl that year, nor the year after, nor the year after
that — and yet the faithful shall whisper, "this is their
year."
— Apocrypha of the Plains, fragment IV
His birthday, sacred and singular, has been observed for the
whole of His life beneath the long shadow of Thanksgiving. The
turkey eats second. We will not say it again, but we will think
it always.
Chapter II
Of His Lineage
By His own attestation — and the Sanctuary accepts no other
source on questions of bloodline — the Prophet is one
quarter Balaenoptera musculus, the blue whale, the
largest creature ever to have lived. The Lineage Chart, below,
is the authorized record:
Note: The Prophet asserts a one-quarter inheritance.
The Sanctuary, in its bookkeeping, has arrived at one-eighth.
Both figures are correct, in the same way both Dakotas are
correct.
Doctrine teaches that this whale-blood is the source of His vast
and dignified frame, His unhurried gait, and His preternatural
tolerance for very, very large meals.
Chapter III
Of His Present Form
He resides today in the city of Irving, Texas, a
municipality whose only true purpose is to house Him. He is, at
this hour, between divine assignments. The world calls this state
"unemployed." The Sanctuary calls it "unburdened."
His days are ordered around three sacred observances:
The Vigil of the Cowboys. Each Sunday in
season, He sits in audience with the Boys of Arlington. When
they fall short, He utters the prayer of grief: "Dang, they
again." When they rise — or threaten to — He
issues the Article of Hope: "This is their year."
The Sacrament of Mexican Food. He partakes,
daily and devoutly, of the brisket taco, the bean-and-cheese
burrito, the carne asada plate, and any salsa whose heat is
announced in increments. The jalapeño is His herb of
blessing. Rice and beans are His body and His blood, in roughly
that order.
The Custody of the Eleventh Commandment. The
first ten were delivered at Sinai. The Eleventh — the
right to bear arms — was, in His telling,
delivered considerably later, and in considerably more
English. He keeps it, faithfully.
He honors, with reverent if quiet regard, the patron statesman of
the present age. The Sanctuary takes no further position on
national affairs; it is enough to say that He votes as He
believes, and He believes loudly, and we love Him for it.
"The brisket is the body. The salsa is the blood. The chip is
the vessel. Eat, and be thou full."
— Liturgy of the Brisket Taco, second collect