Monday, June 18, 2007


This is a story, fiction, of course, about God, in all His glory who, for better or worse, decides that after all the stuff He had to go through to perpetuate the myth of His existence it made no sense for the workaholic that He was not to take time off from the hassle in His castle in Heaven to visit Earth and see if it was worth all the fret and sweat to get it to where, in the far off air, it is today.

God figured, "Oh, for goodness and badness sake, to take an inventory, according to this made-up story, I'm justified the expense to indulge in this nonsense, this humanity/insanity to satisfy my vanity as a selfish God to go temporarily off my nod to learn if Earth's a going biz and let it stay as it or has the time come to end this dumb experiment that's had a trillion zillion years to get its act together and still can't control the weather?"

True, God created a shoddy body, susceptible to every incredible disease He invented accidentally or experimentally. He was sure this newfangled modern science would find a cure, like an answer to why healthy people die of cancer and the poor have more babies than dogs have rabies.

Man still hasn't learned to come in out of the rain when he and his sweetie stroll down Lover's Lane. And the bolloxed human brain? There are more insane today than there will be on Judgment Day.

One night late on a date known just to God who like or not, has forgot, all the Good will go to Heaven and the Bad will shop at Wal-mart and the 7/11 and instead of oil, booze will ooze out from the soil and the world will crash after one last bash and we'll all turn into recyclable trash.

That's probably not how God and His Son would have it done. Buy I'm the one who created this tale of travail and that's how I would do it. So screw it. God blew it. And that's all there is to it.


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