Humor Therapy — Yo God, Down Here

Circa 2007

Hey God, it’s me, your old friend, remember? The one who was cool and cocky, until you made me humble by putting me in the hospital with chest pains. The one who thought I could do whatever I wanted in life without consequences, until you sent that oncoming car my way.

I might not even have believed that you exist, except I made it through my teenage years in one piece, and without being thrown in prison.

Still, I’ve got some tough questions for you:

Why do we kill people we love? Why do we kill people we don’t even know? Wouldn’t it be a better world if we just “took care” of a few people within our inner circle who really annoy us, such as in-laws or that moody, drug-addicted relative who always ruins Thanksgiving dinner? You know, just the troublemakers?

Tell me, Almighty, why are there so many religions? I believe that people fight over faith because they think their beliefs are the only true religion. God, won’t you just fly over all the cities of the world and yell down, “Believe in me or I’ll stomp you into the ground with my big-ass sandal?” Then, everyone will be scared and believe in you, and, who knows, might even obey you.

It could happen.

This brings me to another point: Why did you have to fence us in with rules? Don’t you want us to be happy? I mean, why can’t you covet your neighbor’s wife—especially if she’s hot? You were the one who made her hot. Okay… I can hear you coming in loud and clear:

Would you like someone to covet your wife?

Wait, I’ve been asking the questions around here, and if you don’t mind—I’ve still got a few more to go. So anyway, how bad could it really be if you just let us run crazy and do whatever we wanted?

Look around.

Okay, good point.

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God, they say praying is supposed to be helpful, but I’m still up in the air on that one. Maybe the types of things I ask for would be considered miracles, and I know you don’t just hand those out like Burger King coupons. For instance, Nicole Richie is a celebrity? Tell me that’s not a miracle. If you can give her that, maybe you can give me a few small things, like a cool car. God, you’re my bestest friend in the world, you could pull a Hyundai out of your hat. FYI, I prefer the hybrid. Come on, who’s even going to know you intervened? Help me out here.

Tell me again why you want us in relationships? I know it’s supposed to teach us a deeper love or to keep us from going astray, especially with the neighbor’s wife. But relationships are a constant tug-of-war. One partner never wants to do what the other wants to do. Couldn’t you have made half the population the kind of people who always do what everyone tells them to do—with no attitude? Then the rest of us could date or marry these meek cats and live happily ever after, as we watch them take out the garbage and pay the bills. No, you had to go and give everyone self-esteem.

And another thing: Some people are lucky as hell. Me, Lord, I couldn’t hit a bull in the rump with a snow shovel. I couldn’t buy luck—even if I had money, which I don’t—because I’m unlucky. Can’t you just throw a brother a bone, once? Like, when I’m sleeping, you put a slip of paper under my pillow with the winning lotto numbers. Some good stock picks? The Kentucky Derby winner? I’ll take whatever you got. I’ll be good with the money. I’ll buy a ham and cheese sandwich for a bum, I promise. I know you don’t believe me. I guess you know my record against temptation and selfishness. But don’t give up on me, God. Some day, I’ll get you one win.

So tell me more about temptation…What’s that all about? You don’t want us to do certain things so You tempt us. Is that really fair, God? Wait, why are You laughing? You think it’s easy being human? It’s not, because everything that’s fun is a sin. You gave us the Sabbath, a day of rest. How about a new day in the week called the Ravage—a day once a week when we have your permission to go hog wild and break the rules. This would certainly alleviate a lot of the guilt. Smoking, drinking, sex, dessert, gambling, maybe a little shoplifting… Come on, give us some leeway.

Another thing: Why do we always want more than we have? I know it has to do with greed, jealousy and envy, but I didn’t ask for those traits—You gave them to me. You should have made it where the pleasure of a yo-yo and a talking parrot were enough to get me through the day. But without all this new crap they have out here— cell phones, Blackberrys, Ipods—you’re virtually a nobody. Sure, I know I should be thankful for what I have, but how can I think of how much better off I am, when The Joneses just got the iPhone?

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Hey God, something else is bothering me. We recently had a family friend die of cancer—a mother with three boys. What was your thinking on that one? I realize people have to die, but come on, surely You had other candidates: Child molesters, murderers and, of course, the in-laws… to name a few. Might have been an opportunity to take out some of the garbage.

God, a lot people wonder what heaven is like. I’m sure it’s 15 times better than my best day on earth. (That would be Christmas Day 1969, when I got a Big Wheel.) But what do you do up there for an eternity? Even if you get to hang out with your favorite person from history, say Benjamin Franklin, after 40 or 50 years, he’s probably going to get on your nerves. “Yeah, yeah, Ben, so you tied a key to a kite and got shocked. You’ve told me that story 130 times already! I’m gonna go talk to Socrates.”

Sure, it gets boring down here, but at least there’s television to kill the time. Please tell me you have big-screen TV up there, because I couldn’t fathom an eternity without The Simpsons.

Finally, why do we live only to die? I sincerely hope you have a purpose in mind because I gotta tell you, this life hasn’t been all candy and roses. For one thing, we have to work most of the time. What’s up with that? I thought you got all your anger at us out during that great flood. I guess what I’m saying is, Can’t you float me a couple million ‘til I get to heaven, because the working thing is not working for me.

So, come on God, you can tell me. Did you intend for life to be one big joke? What did you say, God? What was that?

Wait ‘til you hear the punchline!

by Jeff Charlebois

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