A Chat With God, As He Decides Who's Winning The Super Bowl
FRED, an exacting man in suspenders enters an opulent office made entirely of clouds. He finds GOD, with his feet up on a giant desk, fiddling with an iPad.
God: Freddy, my man, what’s crappening?
Fred: Well, sir, a great deal sir is…uh, is…
God: Loosen up, Fred. You can say it!
Fred (clearing his throat): …Crappening, sir. A tremendous amount is crappening. We have a lot of decisions to make this week, so I really need your undivided attention.
God: Freddy, it’s me, God. When have I given you anything other less complete… focus… and… HA!
God laughs at his iPad. Fred frowns.
Fred: You’re watching The Mindy Project, aren’t you?
God: I can’t resist! She’s so funny, and well-intentioned, and yet consistently flummoxed. It’s like Liz Lemon, Larry David, and Mahatma Gandhi had a lovechild.
Fred: Sir. I’m pretty sure that’s racist.
God: Really? It is? I mean, she’s Indian, and Ghandi’s Indian. I’m not allowed to…?
Fred: I don’t know. Honestly, I think talking about it only makes it worse.
God: When did shit get so complicated, Freddy?
Fred: I don’t know, Sir. In the 80s, I think?
God: Fucking acid washed jeans. Turned everything sideways. Screw it. Let’s solve some problems, Fred! God is in the house, ready to dole out some justice. Let’s JUSTICE IT UP!
Fred: OK. Suzy Middleton in Nebraska has been praying repeatedly for at least an A- on her Physics exam. How should we handle that one?
God: Has she been studying?
Fred: A great deal, sir. In fact, she hasn’t gone on Facebook in over 48 hours.
God: Wow, longest I’ve made it is 45 minutes. Just changed my relationship status to “In a Civil Union.” That should keep the Vatican guessing for a while. Suzy Middleton… she’s gonna be the
President in 40 years, yes?
Fred: That’s right, sir.
God: Give her a B. Challenges build character. Who’s next? Can we smite someone? I’m in the mood for smiting.
Fred: Well…Senator Orrin Hatch just said background checks for firearms threaten people’s liberty. Want me to hit him with some lightning, or maybe… the gout?
God: His name’s already Orrin. I don’t want to pile on.
Fred: Very forgiving, sir. Oh! We’ve gotten an influx of prayers from Richard Wesley in Cincinnati.
God: Come on! Does this guy do anything other than pray?! Last week Richie prayed for a nine letter word for “blimp.” I slipped “dirigible” into his memory while he was asleep, and then he spelled the friggin’ thing wrong! Screwed up the whole damn crossword. Some people just can’t be saved!
Fred: Well, this time he’s praying for his dog who has come down with a terrible infection.
God: Doesn’t matter, because I have a standing order not to let anyone’s pet die. Right? Freeeeeeeeeed?
God looks sternly at Fred.
Fred: Sir, I know you said that, but–
God: Have you been letting people’s dogs die, Fred?! FRED. We talked about this. NO PETS. And what about the kitties? Fred, please tell me you haven’t been killing off kitties. I will lightning bolt you right now –
Fred (terrified): It’s just that it doesn’t make sense, Sir! How are we going to explain dogs and cats living forever –
God: And goldfish!
Fred: And goldfish, of course. AND goldfish. Animals live forever, but people die after 80 years? It’s not plausible. Plus, at a certain point, everything would be covered in poop. It’s really the only way, I’m sorry.
God: You’re making me very angry. I take back what I said before. Smite Orrin. Give ‘em the flu. And warts. And make him fart in public!
Fred: Got it, Hatch is farting…now.
Fred pushes a button on his iPhone. A comforting beep is heard. God begins to calm down.
Fred: Now, if we could just discuss the Super Bowl.
God: Nope. No sports. Couldn’t care less. Starving children, Fred…
Fred: I know, Sir. But Ray Lewis has been talking about you non-stop–
God: Ray Lewis. RAY LEWIS?! Didn’t he murder somebody?!
Fred: Well, he was never charged–
God: Fred, I’m GOD! I know what happened! The guy threw away a white suit he was wearing the night the woman died. Why would he do that?! Because it wasn’t totally covered in blood?
Fred: He would have been acquitted—
God: That reminds me, put “‘Fix Justice for Rich People” on next week’s list. I’ve never gotten that right. You’re telling me the only thing OJ Simpson is guilty of is beating up a guy over his own autograph? Please.
Fred: OK, but…what about the game, Sir? Who do you want to win?
God: Don’t care! Let them figure it out. They’ve got free will. And incredibly nice sneakers. I’m sure they’ll be fine on their own!
Fred: But we’ve been getting so many prayers from players –
God: Yeah, but if I pick the Ravens it means I didn’t answer the 49ers’ prayers, and if I pick San Francisco, then I didn’t care about the pleas from Baltimore. It’s a lose, lose! On top of being entirely idiotic!
Fred: Yes, but –
God: No matter what happens, the winner’s gonna thank me, right? Say it was fate, God’s will, blah blah blah. So does that mean that it’s my will that the loser blew it?! That Ray Lewis couldn’t tackle Frank Gore, because let’s be honest, he’s totally lost a step…?!
Fred: I feel like you’re getting really hung up on Ray Lewis, here, Lord…
God: You never hear a loser say after a big game…“You know, what? God screwed me. I prayed all day long, and we got our asses kicked. Screw it, I’m going to temple from now on.” Why is that?
Fred: Because they love you?
God: Because they’re morons. It’s a game, Fred! Someone’s gonna win and someone’s gonna lose, regardless of what I do. So I think I’ll sit this one out, and focus on things that matter. Like Malaria! And gay rights! And gosh darn mother f’ing GOLDFISH!
Fred: Fine. I’m sorry I brought it up. I will never mention the Super –
God: 49ers by 10. Kaepernick is unstoppable. Plus the Ray Lewis dance,
give me a break!
Fred: And let it be so, my Lord. Let it be so.
A | A | A
Describe for us the threesome with your OKCupid hookup.
If this doesn’t become the biggest video on the Internet, then I have no faith left in humanity.
I’m about to finish up my sophomore fall of college, and friends from home are getting married and having babies and sufficiently freaking me out.
He was a perfect date. I later got drunk and hacked his phone (who uses their birth year for a password? It was 1986, by the way #teamcougar). What I found was a text to a Kristina explaining his aforementioned sex dream he’d had about her while sleeping next to me in a luxurious hotel bed.