Monday, September 1, 2008

God Hates Republicans

"They're having their fucking convention where?"

God was in one of his moods. When he got like this, the seraphim and cherubim tried to stay out of the way. That's what Michael was for. The old Archangel had been around forever and could take whatever the Old Man dished out. He'd seen it all. The Fall. The flood. Sodom and Gomorrah. Job's boils. God's days of rage were mostly in his past. Every once in awhile though, God was still capable of losing it.

"New Orleans," muttered Michael in disgust. "And they're bringing you up again. Every time they want a new tax cut for the rich or to start a new war, it's God this and Jesus that. I know you like to stay out of these things, but don't you think they're kind of asking for it here?"

God spat, and another galaxy appeared in the distance.

"You know," said Michael, looking downward, "Infinity is infinity. You can stop doing that anytime now."

"Yeah, well, it's a habit. Sue me." God felt for the remote and flicked on the TV. It was a tube model from 1963, and everything was a little too green. The convention was on, and all the Republicans already looked a little sea sick.

"You ever going to get that thing fixed?" asked the Archangel, reaching for the beer nuts. "I mean, you're God. You might want to just upgrade to HDTV."

"You kids always think newer is better," said the Old Man. "So what do you think? A category five?"

"There you go again. Always with the overkill. Just send enough to top off the levees. They'll get the message. I mean, they'll still say you're on their side. They're shameless. But most people will get it."

God sighed. "I dunno. Subtlety never seems to work anymore."

"Maybe you could work it from a different angle at the same time. I mean, you're God, right? How hard can it be. You know, McCain's new running mate has a seventeen year old daughter. "

God smiled. "Virgin birth? I like it."

"Who said she was a virgin?" laughed Michael.

"Like I need to do anything to help these assholes lose," grunted God, staring at the TV. The rain fell in great green sheets. God laughed. The heavenly host sang hallelujah.

Postscript: God, being busy, distracted, and mostly off the grid, assumed the Republican Convention was in New Orleans when he glanced at the NYT yesterday while waiting for a tall Americano with room at Starbucks. He apologizes for any confusion.

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