God Speaks

‘Sup?  God here.  Long time, no speak.  (No, Santorum, I mean it, I haven’t been speaking to you, that’s just the voices inside your stupid head.  And stop emailing me all of those dumb “How many abortionists does it take to screw in a light bulb” jokes.)

I’ve come to speak to you today because – and excuse me for taking my only son’s name in vain, but Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with you people?  Every time some gigantic natural event occurs, some of you dumbasses look at it like I’m sending you some kind of coded message.  You probably haven’t noticed because you’re so self-centered, but I’ve got like a gazillion other planets in the universe to keep an eye on.  A lot more of them are populated than you think – Spoiler alert! You’ll find out in 22 years – though thankfully, few of them are as high-maintenance as you clowns!  Still, it takes up a lot of my time and I’m no spring chicken anymore – seriously, I need a hip replacement but I don’t trust St. Peter to fill in in a pinch; he has a troubling obsession with creating oceanfront property in Nevada – so I pretty much leave you alone to fend for yourself.

Now I hear that some numbnuts pastor is claiming that I created this Northeast hurricane because I’m mad about gay people or some such shit.  Oy.  I don’t know this Pastor McTernan from King Menahem but Satan assures me that he is saving an eternal seat for the pastor and he’s keeping it warm. Very, very warm, if you catch my drift.

First, why do you only bring up this ulterior motive crap when it happens in the Northeast U.S?  How come when I send twisters through Kansas and Oklahoma, you don’t think, “Maybe the Lord is angry because we’re intolerant of reproductive rights?”  Heck, maybe when I create sunny days in Iran, I’m telling you, “See, I love all my creatures equally so why don’t we all get along?”  Don’t want to think about that one, do you?

How do you dumbasses know that I wasn’t intervening to help Obama get re-elected by reminding you of the importance of a strong Federal government?  Or maybe I have a vendetta against Chris Christie and the flooding and blackouts in New Jersey’s surrounding states were just collateral damage. I mean, at my age, my aim isn’t so hot.

Listen, I know I wiped out all life once in a hissy fit, but I was young and angsty then – you think you rebelled against your parents?  Imagine how angry you’d be with no parents to blame!  But that was millennia ago and I’m older and much more mellow now.

Besides, why do you think I hate gay people? Yeah, yeah, Leviticus; I swear I was misquoted by some partisan hack journalist, like “Al Gore created the Internet” and “Corporations are people, my friend.” (Wait, he really said that? You’re kidding me!) If I hated gay people so much, would I keep letting San Francisco win the World Series?  I keep giving gays prominent roles – actors, writers, musicians, businessmen, closeted Republican politicians. Would I do that if I hated them?

Here’s another motive, and this one’s even plausible – maybe I created this hurricane because I’m pissed off that you’re destroying this beautiful planet I gave you and you can’t even bother to discuss climate change in a Presidential campaign for even one nanosecond.

In truth, I don’t create these storms; they all develop as part of an elaborate ecosystem that I created. (Yeah, Barack, I built that!)  But this ecosystem you’ve got now – I didn’t build that.  You built that with your gas-guzzlers and your bumper-to-bumper traffic jams and your coal-burning smokestacks and, OK, maybe your cow’s methane farts.  Now you’ve got polar bears slathering on the SPF-50 before hopping on their surfboards and now hipsters in Lower Manhattan are in greater danger than trailer park denizens in Tornado Alley. Instead of doing something about that, however, you’re too busy arguing about whether Taylor Swift’s songs are too mean to her exes or which Kardashian outfit is the trashiest or – and this is the one that kills me – whether I wanted a woman who was raped to get pregnant. (Short answer: NO! Why are the people who think they speak for me always dumber than a rock?)

It makes me so mad that I want to unleash one of those 40-days-and-40-nights floods, but I swear you’re trying your damnedest to do it to yourselves. I’m not going to help you out of this one.  First off, I don’t see any plausible Noah wannabes out there (put your freaking hand down, Trump!).  Second, I don’t remember what a cubit is.  (You think metric is hard?)  Third, my plan last time didn’t work out so well – when you have two of every species locked up on a ship for forty days, do you know how much dung collects? (Trust me, a rhinoceros is potent!)  And a male and female rabbit together for that long wasn’t such a smart idea either, believe me.

So you’re on your own and you’d better start addressing it pronto.  Now the creatures out on planet Zrgbod, they figured it out.  And when the Zrgbodians land on Planet Earth in 2034, they might give you the benefit of their wisdom.  It would be nice if one or two of you were still alive to listen to them.  And put your me-damned hand down, Trump.  It won’t be you.  I’ve got a nice, juicy fate in store for you.