God’s Rant #17: Hate My Job
by God
Hello everybody. Most of you know me by God. “By God” is one of my favorite human expressions. “By God, she did it!”
Well, I’m here to tell you, I hate my job.
My job is to be imagined and reimagined by nearly every human who ever had a thought. Free, penny, two cents worth or otherwise. The human’s vast egos allow them to believe I will do things for them just because they think about me. They call it prayer, and I hate it. The humans can be so arrogant.
I am the most imagined image in the history of creative thinkers. There is no other image more thought about than me. I use the word image loosely because there actually are no images of me.
Even I have difficulty believing some of the crazy imaginary beliefs that inform humans into action.
The Orthodox Jews abide by the halachic authorities who say you shouldn’t flush a toilet on Shabbat. They believe this pleases me.
Split hooves. Chew cud. Fins and scales. And, land decreed as “holy” just to please me.
Oy vey! The male genital mutilation bris ceremony eight days after birth. Just to please me.
Don’t get me started on all the fatwas and prayer rituals the Muslims believe. Just to please me. To paraphrase a popular imaginary buddy of mine, Bugs Bunny, “I should have made a left turn in Mecca.”
And those atheists who define themselves relative to me as they get into arguments with theists whether or not I exist. Reminds me of the old joke: A woman walks into a bar and asks for a double entendre and got one.
Personally, (or should I say, Godily?) I’m entertained when the skeptic’s cringe at the words, “Let us pray.” Or, “Have a blessed day!”
I am amused by their arguments over what they should call themselves: Skeptics, atheists, secular humanists, or non-believers? At least they’re not sucking up to me.
And the Christians! They can’t decide what to call themselves either. Look at all those denominations.
Do you want to believe the unbelievable? Get a load of this. There are millions of “Christian” humans who believe that a married virgin woman had an affair with me. Me! The one and only God with a married virgin? Well, she got preggers by me and gave birth to my only “begotten” son. (We won’t talk about Adam.) This kid grew up to become skilled with a hammer, could entertain crowds, pissed off lots of people, got arrested, tortured to death on a cross, and entoumbed in a cave.
But wait! There’s more. My son then got undead and escaped from the cave. (A fine trick, I say.) And in his undeadness, my son can make humans live forever and ever if you drink his blood and eat his flesh at the altar while you confess that you accept my boy as your Lord and Savior. Thus, he can remove a wicked evil force from you because another woman named Eve, made from a man’s rib, was convinced by a talking snake to eat from an enchanted tree that gave humans too much knowledge. All this with the after-dead goal to enter a pearly-gated community called Heaven, enjoy eternal life with their relatives, and never be dead again.
Hat tip to human imagination! (Jews, keep your hats on.)
Yet, it is this imagining that informs many humans into worldly action. Truly atrocious things are done by humans in my name. Just to please me. (You could look it up.)
How old were you when you were first told the Bible is “the word of God”? Holy Sweet Baabay Jeezus. Those aren’t my words. Figments, I tell you! The humans made it all up.
The truth be told, all I want is to rest with peaceful kindness somewhere within your happy thoughts.
I’ve listened to the stories the humans tell themselves. These stories can often bring comfort, joy, hopes, dreams, motivation, and more. Sometimes hatred and war. And sometimes love. Humans don’t need to imagine me to imagine a world where they learn to help each other for each others benefit. They just need to make it happen. Leave me out of it.
“God works in mysterious ways.” That’s right. I’m a fuckin’ mystery.
If only I had the patience of Job.
I hate my job.
Please direct all comments to this human: Ken Hurley
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