I was given the assignment of calling God for His comment on the Touchdown Jesus story. I'm expecting it to take weeks, maybe months, because that's how it always works with Him. He never answers right when I call, but He eventually gets back to me. To my surprise he picked up the phone on the third ring.
LARRY: God, is that you?
GOD: Larry my boy, I'm glad you called. I was speaking to that sanctimonious ass, John Hagee, and you saved me from two hours of his self-important blathering. I owe you one, so what do you want.
LW: I was hoping to get your comment on the Touchdown Jesus thing.
GOD: That was one hideous statue, wasn't it? It didn't even look like Jesus. What part of "Thou shalt not make any graven images" don't these morons understand?
LW: Yeah, well, I have to ask; since this was caused by lightning it has your fingerprints all over it. How do you respond to that?
GOD: Hell yes, I did it. The only way you can make an impression on these mindless dolts is to do it in a big way.
LW: Isn't lightning a little dramatic?
GOD: Let's say it's my calling card. Without it these dipsticks would try to blame it on a nonbeliever. This way there's no doubt it was me, although these zombies will rationalize it somehow.
LW: But why?
GOD: I've been trying to get their attention for a long time, and what better way than zapping their Redeemer with lightning?
LW: Will they get it?
GOD: Nope, they're impervious. It's a good thing there's not a hell or they'd all fry. I wish I could get out of this me-forsaken galaxy.
LW: You got somewhere else to go?
GOD: I used to have the Andromeda galaxy, and it was a sweet gig! For 5 billion years I poured my heart into it, and it was light years ahead of any of the other God's galaxy, but I relaxed for just a moment and poof, they assigned me to the Milky Way. Don't take this personal, but as galaxies go, this is a schlock shop.
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