There are so many misconceptions about me. Over the millennia, I have yearned for people to know who I am really am. But how can I feel close to my subjects when I am like a Mr. Potato Head, with people adding or subtracting features to fit their own tastes? So, I appreciate this opportunity to vent, to help me be the best God I can be.
Not Everything Happens Because Of Me
It used to please me that my subjects believed that everything happened through my Divine Will. But that’s always been a double-edged sword. It’s not my bad that human beings are slaughtering each other because they believe in different versions of me. Can you believe Shiites and Sunnis splitting hairs over their differences and murdering each other in my name? I oughta slap them upside the head!
By the way, there are no versions of me, only moi. It is very discouraging that everyone has their own names for me, like Allah, Yahweh, Shangdi, Bathala, and Jehovah. Perhaps some re-branding is in order. I yearn to be a mass-market brand with a catchy handle, like BiggieG or Notorious G-O-D?
It must be said that I could care less about who wins sports contests. I have better things to do than decide who wins a football game or hits a homer (please stop pointing upwards afterwards). If you need to believe that I am on your side, I am OK with that. Believing it is fine, saying it is poor form because it makes the loser feel like, well, a loser in God’s eyes. Feel free, though, to attribute victories to your own superior abilities. I won’t take offense.
I Am Digging Atheists
I have consistently heard that there are no atheists in foxholes. Correction: There are plenty of them. And I like the fact atheists don’t need me. It’s kind of exotic having my existence pooh-poohed. I’m not a codependent God who demands everyone worship me or so narcissistic that I have to be the big swinging dick in the universe. Anyone who needs me so badly to be their Supreme Being, who organizes their whole life around me, I’m not sure I want as a subject.
Diversity Is Shaking Things Up
My angels keep carping about how heaven is a patriarchy, a boy’s club, a frat-house. The #MeToo movement is proving far too disruptive for my liking. How much can be expected of me? I’m just the creator of the universe, not an H.R. expert. I’m quite amused by post-modern theory positing that God is a woman or black (the latter’s kind of true but don’t tell anyone). I must confess that I am looking forward to meeting Oprah. She would never be intimidated by my lordly presence. I would like to retire one day — how would you feel doing the same job for eternity with no chance for advancement. Perhaps, she might be the one to take up the mantle. As a possibly irrelevant side note, I’m abashed to admit that I have a thing for Michele Obama. So, people, I can promise you that greater diversity is coming. I am woke.
It Gets Lonely Up Here
I have no colleagues, no support group, no one to just kick back and shoot the shit with. Jesus used to be my go-to guy but I got bored with his reverence for me. I used to kid around with Mother Teresa but, alas, she found me a bit shallow. I eagerly await the day that Dr. Phil joins me up here, helping me manage the stress of running the universe.
My old frenemy, the Devil, my coolest creation, and I have developed quite a nice working rapport. I am sick, though, of his crowing about how he kicked my ass in the 20th century with monsters like Hitler, Stalin, and Idi Amin. I am especially pleased about his bromance with Donald Trump. It keeps him occupied, distracting him from creating worse havoc in the world. Dev continually gets my goat, gleefully giving me all the credit for the Donald. Despite what people think, I’m not perfect. Creating evolution was no easy task, very complex. As you can see, it resulted in some unfortunate mutations. He recently confessed that Trump had sold his soul to him way back when. I didn’t think that Trump had that much to sell. Dev smirked at that, asking me: “How do you think he got elected?”