Tuesday, March 28, 2006

When you call, God answers. Says he's resigning

After my feverish online letter to God, I was only slightly surprised when, this morning at 6:47 a.m. EST, He appeared in my living room. Before you get into your gas guzzling SUVs and head on over to worship my ancient gray carpet, just a word of advice: I'm armed.

Holding a pre-dawn press conference on the lawn, He surprised everyone with a stunning announcement.

"Effective immediately, I hereby resign," he said, as seven hundred cameras clicked in unison and budding grass seedlets were trampled underfoot.

"But, God --why?" asked Geraldo Rivera. That Geraldo. He's never afraid to intrepidly go where nobody else dares. In this case, Hell.

Stroking his long white beared reflexively, The Lord looked upwards, eyes etched in tears.

"Why? You need to ask Me why?? I should've smote mankind long, long ago. Especially you, Gerry Rivers, pretending to rescue that little old lady in New Orleans."

"That said, take a look around. You're all nuts. Every last one of you, even the pacifists. They weren't nuts before 2000, but now look at 'em: fixated on news blogs, watching CNN all the time, eating McDonalds."

He grimaced.

"Still, I could handle that. What I just cannot take is the hatred. People who pretend to be My poster children, consumed by rage and bigotry. Stealing, cheating, lying, killing. Is this the stuff I taught you? Or the parents I gave you - did they raise you this way? I think not. Put that notebook down and look at me when I'm talking to you!"

"Miss Helen Thomas, come forward. Your work has pleased Me greatly. You may ask the first real question," he said, casting the stink-eye at Geraldo.

"Who will be taking over your duties, God?" asked Thomas.

"Well...we're transitioning right now. I tried to give it to Jesus, but then he reminded me of the Crucifixion. Admittedly, he's suffered enough. Some of the second stringers on my squad - Moses, Peter, Paul. . .they just aren't interested. It's rather a thankless job, anymore. So. . ."

"We're gonna auction off the position on E-Bay. Frankly, though I wish them the best of luck, I don't think it really matters. You are all out of control. It's too psychically draining for me to bring on the End Days right now and really, you're doing such a good job of making your world one big Apocalyptic nightmare, why should I expend the energy? I'm no spring chicken, you know."

"Also, speaking of that? I'm tired. Sometimes wish I'd have just stopped with the zebras. Now there's an accomplishment. You try making such perfect stripes, even on paper! But no. I got carried away, kept going for bigger, better -- more, more, more."

He paused, surveying the crowd, then continued:

"That's the problem; it was during this mindset I created you all in my image. Now look at you: greedy, gluttonous, wannabe-Mes trying to create your own world, paving right over Mine, knocking down everything standing in the way. Including Me."

A few more questions followed -- wherein Our Creator admitted that yes, He too is stunned how much the Magic Bullet really can do in the kitchen ("Wish I'd thought of that little stunner - so handy! " He quipped) and no, he would not go 'on the record' about Bush's relation to the anti-Christ --- and then, to the strains of God Bless America, He ascended back up into the Heavens.

Presumably, much work must be done before he can clear out his heavenly desk and call it an eternity.

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