Thursday With God

Thursday again. Time for another installment from our favorite All-Powerful Divinity . . .

Greetings, all.

First off today, Jim wants me to apologize for my snootiness towards my questioners last week. He tells me I was a bit harsh (and won’t let me keep blogging here if I don’t say “sorry”!) so . . . Sorry.

What can I tell you? Supreme Beings don’t have a lot of social interaction, ya know? I spend most of my time surrounded by Angels and Enlightened Spirits. Their idea of a good conversation with me consists of groveling at my feet and hollering: “Yes, Lord! Thou art wonderful” to every damn thing I say. To be honest, it gets pretty damn tedious after a few hundred millennia. That brings me to my topic for today (which I had to come up with on my own, since none of you left me questions last week! Thanks a lot. It’s not like I have anything else to do all week but think of topics to blog on! I mean, I’m only GOD after all!) Anyway, my topic today is the correct way for humans to Worship . . . Me!

Webster’s defines the word as follows:

WORSHIP
1 chiefly British : a person of importance -- used as a title for various officials (as magistrates and some mayors)
2 : reverence offered a divine being or supernatural power; also : an act of expressing such reverence
3 : a form of religious practice with its creed and ritual
4 : extravagant respect or admiration for or devotion to an object of esteem (worship of the dollar)

Well, we can discount the first definition since I’m not British and I certainly rank above their effete bureaucrats. The last definition doesn’t really apply, since –as God- no amount of respect toward me can be considered extravagant! The middle two definitions are the ones I’m concerned with. All too often, they are seen as being pretty similar but they’re really not. Most of you folks worship through definition three: a form of religious practice with its creed and ritual. You show up at church, mosque, or synagogue, say “Hosanna” a few times, and off you go back to your creepy little lives. Worship done, right?

Yeeeaaaa . . . not so much.

Look, I don’t give much of a damn about stuff like that. I’ve got enough sycophants hanging about The Pearly Gates. I don’t need any more down here. Wanna really worship Me? Take a close look at definition number two: reverence offered a divine being or supernatural power; also : an act of expressing such reverence. The key word here is “reverence”. What kind of reverence am I looking for? Well, for starters a bit of respect towards my creations would be appreciated! How about picking up your trash once in a while? Maybe stop pumping sewage into my beautiful rivers? Oh! I know: how about something simple like not killing each other? Too much? Fine, we’ll start simpler. How about not using small animals for cosmetics testing?

What I’m trying to say is, I don’t give much of a damn if you show up for whatever church it is you belong every week. Truth is, that has nothing to do with me anyway. All I want is for you to live your lives as best you can and take a moment to look about once in a while and say “Wow. Cool world, God.” That’s it. It’s like your grandmother making you a big dinner. She doesn’t expect you to pay for the groceries, or ask you to do dishes after. You’re there at her request, as a guest, and she expects nothing in return. A “Great dinner, Grams!” is always appreciated. 'Side from that, I’m sure she’d be a bit miffed if you decided to pee on her couch and start poking holes in Mr Fluffy, the poodle, with her good silverware. Getting the point? Just treat me and my house (re: all existence!) with the same respect you’d show Grams and we’re cool. I don’t need sacrifices, offerings, prayers, and praise out the hoo-hah. I’m Omnipotent, folks, do you really think there’s anything I need from you that I can’t have with a snap of my fingers? I put you here cuz I like you. You don’t owe me anything. Just do what you think is right in your life and we’ll talk about how well you did afterward, okay? I don’t want your “worship” any more than Grams wants her five-year-old grandkid to break his piggy bank for three nickels and a slug to pay for the turkey and mashed ‘taters.

Just relax, enjoy the meal, and feel free to loosen your belt and take a nap on the couch afterward. Oh, and don’t worry about the afterlife so much. Think of it as Grams getting desert ready in the kitchen while you’re napping. You may not know what she’s got waiting for you out there but you can rest comfortable, knowing it’s gonna be good. Keep that image in mind and you’ll sleep a lot easier at night.

Last thing: please leave me some questions this week, will ya? I like getting some feedback from you hairless apes now and again.

I’m out