Genesis 1:1 - First, there was Kirstie Alley, and it was good.
Kirsten Louise Alley, peace be upon her, was born in 1632 in the greatest city on the planet earth: Wichita. The product of a failed phrenological experiment, she burst forth from a golden egg lain by none other than Princess Diana herself and cracked its interior with her piercing gaze. Within a month, she was the height of a full grown adult and had an insatiable desire to develop a new synthetic replacement for love. In an early experiment, she was able to force a dog to mate, and eventually procreate, with a pile of dried wicker. Through aromatherapy, the she-beast successfully resolved the Arab-Israeli conflict at the age of 8 with nothing but her natural body odor. Her immortality has since rendered her an enemy to the humans she so lovingly cared for in her youth. After being cast out of her new home in San Diego, Our Lord Kirstie Alley chose a life of seclusion for the next century.
Tempted by Satan's ever-present soppy fingertips, Alley emerged excited from her cave mansion high in the rocky mountains in 1982. What would transpire over the next 30 years would be the greatest attack on the human psyche since Mother Teresa single-handedly created the rape gang in 1941. She would go for the jugular of contemporary American civilization, film and television. Kirstie Alley's breakout role was as Saavik, the half Vulcan, half Romulan Star Fleet lieutenant in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. She soonafter joined the Church of Scientology, showing she also had a passion for science fiction. She ended prohibition with the TV show Cheers. The effects of Look Who's Talking Now on western philosophy have only recently been understood in their full magnitude. However, this would all pale in comparison to her magnum opus.
Our God, Kirstie Alley, thy will be done, created in 1997 with her divine inspiration For Richer or Poorer, a brilliant insight into the increasingly dire Amish infestation of the American northeast. Alongside the apostle Tim Allen, Alley's saintly prose sang in the ears of believers, rapturously exploding our hearts into cornucopias of orgasmic bliss, showering us in her golden mouth ejaculations. In the 13 years since For Richer or Poorer, the English language has modified itself to better fit the canon of its text. It's hard to imagine a world without Kirstie Alley's face and her profound utterance, "Eeeeeeeeeuuuuwww, I have cow poop on me" emblazoned on every dollar bill. With the $7,000,000,000,000 in earnings of For Richer or Poorer, Alley effectively eradicated starvation, poverty, and Amishness worldwide. She made the Dalai Lama look like a little punk bitch, stirring sand and playing with dicks in his spare time. However, the appreciation of the world would not last long.
Kirstie Alley always knew she was too good for the common people of our shitty little world. After saving us from the evils of our insipid little ape hearts, we gave the Lord Kirstie fuckall. She received no thanks, no praise, no blowies. She only received our mistrust and confused looks. Africa was bloated with grain sent over by Alleybarge, Inc. and Asia had become completely dependent on rice, invented by Alley in 1937. She continued to be ignored, if not avoided, by mortals. Her bitterness soon turned into a thirst for blood. Throughout the past decade, Kirstie Alley has been taking back what was rightfully hers. She has gorged herself on 3/4 of the grain donated to 3rd world countries since 1997 and she has cannibalized over 7/8 of the people that so selfishly ate the sustenance she provided. Interestingly enough, many of those she has ingested have not yet digested within her 12 stomachs. They often attempt to tunnel out of the titanium lining of Alley's Sarlacc-like innards with little success.
We, the people of Earth, have since learned our lesson, and we now sing in praise to our porky Messiah. Through our back-breaking toil, we have dug the chocolate rivers to her mansions, we have carved her beatific visage into the rockfaces of the Cliffs of Dover, we have systematically murdered every person weighing under 230 lbs on this insignificant planet, but still, we would do so much more for Our Lord, Kirstie Alley. When our earthly bodies have been depleted, we can find solace in knowing that Kirstie Alley will burn our bones for fuel, and ritually murder our young until their virginal blood sates her desires. Praise you, Kirstie Alley! We shall love you in life and in death!