God spoke to me last night. I know what you're thinking. No one was more surprised than I. There I am, brushing my teeth, and out of nowhere, God starts talking to me. The conversation, which spanned such topics as love, peace, politics, cuisine, and (oddly) the upcoming Punisher movie, began this way.
Voice: Nigel?
Nigel: (spitting toothpaste into sink) Wha?
Voice: Hurry up and rinse. I can wait.
Nigel: (after rinsing) Wha?
Voice: Do you know who this is?
Nigel: Superman?
Voice: No. God.
Nigel: Seriously?
God (formerly "Voice"): Yes. Seriously.
Nigel: Uh, hi.
God: Hi. Have a seat. I need to talk to you.
Nigel (taking a seat on the nearby toilet): Ok. Look, what is this about? I don't actually believe in you...
God: Yeah, I know. That's what makes using you as my messenger particularly clever.
Nigel: Messenger?
God: Yes, messenger. You ask a lot of questions. Did you know that?
Nigel: I do?
God: Yes.
Nigel: Seriously?
God: Yes.
Nigel: I ask a lot of questions?
God: Stop that.
Nigel: Stop what? Oh...wait. Nevermind. Go on.
At this point, God (who informed me that "God" is a title and not a name and as such, aggressively dislikes the fact that it has taken on proper noun status in his case) told me he would prefer to be called Alan. I told him that I would prefer to be called Super Pimp. We agreed that neither of those things was likely to happen, so we changed the subject. He began by telling me how deeply disturbed he was by the number of people claiming that he speaks to them.
"I speak to very few people. Not counting you, I've spoken to only 6 people since the end of World War II," he said. "I want to talk to you about the people that claim I've spoken to them."
"Fine," said I. "Knock yourself out."
At this point, he proceeded to go over the most egregious offenders, starting with George W. Bush.
"He says I told him to run for President. I didn't. I don't know who he was speaking to, but it wasn't me. My best guess is that he was actually speaking to Satan. It happened to Mohammed, you know. When he was receiving my dictation of the Quran, he accidentally started channeling Satan. Hence those Satanic Verses that Salman Rushdie was writing about. Did you read that book, by the way?"
"No," I said. "Never got around to it."
"Me, neither. Wanted to know if it was any good. At any rate, my guess is that he was actually either talking to Satan or perhaps an errant fire elemental. Or a pixie. Could have been a pixie, I suppose. They're fond of pranks, those winged little buggers. My point is, he says I spoke to him, and I'm here to tell you I didn't. I command you to spread the word that I didn't speak to him."
"Don't take this the wrong way," I said, "but I don't respond well to people telling me what to do. That's why I never entered Her Majesty's armed services. I don't like people giving me orders."
"Fine," God (Alan?) said with a sigh. "Would you please spread the word?"
"Can do. What else is on your mind?"
"Sarah Palin."
"Is she retarded?" I asked.
"No, not retarded. She said she reads all the magazines and newspapers. Didn't you hear that? I don't think someone developmentally challenged could do that, do you?"
"Well, no," I replied, unable to keep the tone of contempt out of my voice. "I don't think she actually does read them. Given the absurdity of many of her statements and the fact that here we are a month after the U.S. Presidential election and she's still belching up the same old stump speech with a few minor variations, I think she's either delusional or willfully disingenuous."
"You may have a point, there," God conceeded.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. At any rate, she said that she's going to wait for me to tell her what to do with regard to running for national office. I assume she was talking about running for President when she said that. I've done everything short of sending her smoke signals since then to tell her that I want her to sit down and be very quiet. Her 15 minutes of fame are over, but she won't sit down. I don't get it. We've got some people claiming I'm talking to them when I'm not, and I've got her saying she's waiting for me to tell her something when I've been screaming it at her and sending her every conceivable message telling her that I want her to close her quaint, folksy, fear-mongering yap, but she just won't do it. Could you spread the word about that, too?"
The conversation continued for almost an hour. I'll post more about it another time. I finally had to break off the conversation because it was time for Top Chef, which he admitted that he, too, enjoyed a great deal. He also said that he had more things he wanted to talk to me about in the near future. When he does, I'll post about it here.
Voice: Nigel?
Nigel: (spitting toothpaste into sink) Wha?
Voice: Hurry up and rinse. I can wait.
Nigel: (after rinsing) Wha?
Voice: Do you know who this is?
Nigel: Superman?
Voice: No. God.
Nigel: Seriously?
God (formerly "Voice"): Yes. Seriously.
Nigel: Uh, hi.
God: Hi. Have a seat. I need to talk to you.
Nigel (taking a seat on the nearby toilet): Ok. Look, what is this about? I don't actually believe in you...
God: Yeah, I know. That's what makes using you as my messenger particularly clever.
Nigel: Messenger?
God: Yes, messenger. You ask a lot of questions. Did you know that?
Nigel: I do?
God: Yes.
Nigel: Seriously?
God: Yes.
Nigel: I ask a lot of questions?
God: Stop that.
Nigel: Stop what? Oh...wait. Nevermind. Go on.
At this point, God (who informed me that "God" is a title and not a name and as such, aggressively dislikes the fact that it has taken on proper noun status in his case) told me he would prefer to be called Alan. I told him that I would prefer to be called Super Pimp. We agreed that neither of those things was likely to happen, so we changed the subject. He began by telling me how deeply disturbed he was by the number of people claiming that he speaks to them.
"I speak to very few people. Not counting you, I've spoken to only 6 people since the end of World War II," he said. "I want to talk to you about the people that claim I've spoken to them."
"Fine," said I. "Knock yourself out."
At this point, he proceeded to go over the most egregious offenders, starting with George W. Bush.
"He says I told him to run for President. I didn't. I don't know who he was speaking to, but it wasn't me. My best guess is that he was actually speaking to Satan. It happened to Mohammed, you know. When he was receiving my dictation of the Quran, he accidentally started channeling Satan. Hence those Satanic Verses that Salman Rushdie was writing about. Did you read that book, by the way?"
"No," I said. "Never got around to it."
"Me, neither. Wanted to know if it was any good. At any rate, my guess is that he was actually either talking to Satan or perhaps an errant fire elemental. Or a pixie. Could have been a pixie, I suppose. They're fond of pranks, those winged little buggers. My point is, he says I spoke to him, and I'm here to tell you I didn't. I command you to spread the word that I didn't speak to him."
"Don't take this the wrong way," I said, "but I don't respond well to people telling me what to do. That's why I never entered Her Majesty's armed services. I don't like people giving me orders."
"Fine," God (Alan?) said with a sigh. "Would you please spread the word?"
"Can do. What else is on your mind?"
"Sarah Palin."
"Is she retarded?" I asked.
"No, not retarded. She said she reads all the magazines and newspapers. Didn't you hear that? I don't think someone developmentally challenged could do that, do you?"
"Well, no," I replied, unable to keep the tone of contempt out of my voice. "I don't think she actually does read them. Given the absurdity of many of her statements and the fact that here we are a month after the U.S. Presidential election and she's still belching up the same old stump speech with a few minor variations, I think she's either delusional or willfully disingenuous."
"You may have a point, there," God conceeded.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. At any rate, she said that she's going to wait for me to tell her what to do with regard to running for national office. I assume she was talking about running for President when she said that. I've done everything short of sending her smoke signals since then to tell her that I want her to sit down and be very quiet. Her 15 minutes of fame are over, but she won't sit down. I don't get it. We've got some people claiming I'm talking to them when I'm not, and I've got her saying she's waiting for me to tell her something when I've been screaming it at her and sending her every conceivable message telling her that I want her to close her quaint, folksy, fear-mongering yap, but she just won't do it. Could you spread the word about that, too?"
The conversation continued for almost an hour. I'll post more about it another time. I finally had to break off the conversation because it was time for Top Chef, which he admitted that he, too, enjoyed a great deal. He also said that he had more things he wanted to talk to me about in the near future. When he does, I'll post about it here.
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You're not going to leave us hanging are you? What did Alan have to say about the new Punisher movie?
ReplyDelete@Qronik
ReplyDeleteHe said, and I'm quoting here, it was "good stuff." He said he enjoyed a good action flick with lots of giblets and splatter. Makes sense, I suppose, when you consider the volume of carnage in the Old Testament. Apparently he's also a big fan of the Punisher comic book, which I thought was interesting.