And then God said . . .

Continuing an annual conversation between Your Favorite Columnist and God that stretches back almost two decades. 

Stu: God, you are getting on my last nerve.

God: What’s got your shorts in a bunch, Sonny?

Stu: Don’t call me Sonny. We soldiered through COVID-19, your 2020 “gift” to humanity, and here, for Thanksgiving, you gave us omicron, which sounds like a new emoji.

God: Me? You give me too much credit, boy-o.

Stu: Um, the all-knowing, all-seeing, mover of the stars, creator of the universe. That’s you, no?

God: Well, sure, but —

Stu: But what? 

God: The devil. Satan. Beelzebub. Prince of Darkness. That’s where the evil comes from.

Stu: You’re dodging.

God: No boychick. He brings the evil, I bring the vaccine. How come 60 million Americans won’t take the life-saving shot?

Stu: They have free will — that you gave them.

God: That was before I perfected my perfection. Some people believe a lot of crap.

Stu: An example, please.

God: Did you see news outlets go crazy over border agents “whipping” illegals undocumented humans with their horse reins? Never happened. A majority of Republicans believe the election was “stolen.” These people are stuck on stupid, believing things they wish were true, but are not.

Stu: How do you feel about illegals immigrants without papers?

God: The world I created had no borders. Like in the Beatles “Imagine.”

Stu: You liked the Beatles?

God: Major fan.

Stu: Even the lyrics about no religion, no God?

God: Guess what — John and George have discovered the truth. Paul and Ringo are heading this way, what are they— 90?.

Stu: Paul’s 79, Ringo’s 81. Which one is going home next?

God: Not allowed to say, but Paul’s kind of a schmuck, and  Ringo’s got a hernia. Shh. 

Stu: Not to change the subject, but have you performed any miracles lately?

God: Baylor beat Oklahoma State. Biden won Georgia. Capt. Kirk went into space. Good enough?

Stu: Not really. How about that old chestnut — world peace.

God: A bunch of Arab states have recognized Israel, the one and only. You know, my son was born there. How about that?

Stu: How’s your son doing?

God: He’s hanging. 

Stu: Donald Trump launched the Abrahamic Accords.

God: Actually, Jared, but let’s not split hairs. Speaking of hairs, when did yours get so white?

Stu: When I stopped drinking Grecian Formula. Half-Pint said she didn’t like the way it smelled.

God: So, you’re still with Half-Pint?

Stu: I know where you are going. Yeah, I owe you for that. Big time.

God: It’s a blessing, right? You can say it, go ahead.

Stu: You ever get tired of patting yourself on the back?

God: Not easy to do — go ahead and try.

Stu: No can do. I’ve got rotator cuff tears.  Thanks for those, by the way. 

God: Not from athletics, I know, but I can fix those in a hot second. 

Stu: And that will cost me. . . ?

God: Eternal obedience.

Stu: I’ll pass. Anyone else take that deal?

God: Not allowed to say,  but how do you think Donald Trump got elected? He’s got his lawyers trying to break the contract. He says he didn’t actually sign in blood — he used ketchup and that negates the parchment. He’s a bigger schmuck than McCartney. 

Stu: I get it, but I’m running out of time. We should begin to wrap this up.

God: Maybe you want some predictions?

Stu: Eagles in the Super Bowl? Phillies in the Series? Flyers playing for the Cup? Sixers . . .

God: Better stick with the Union and the Wings. But — here. I will give you one.  Jim Kenney will quit the mayor’s job to go into a monastery. That happens right after his new tax on TastyKakes. That makes Darrell Clarke mayor — and he can run for two terms. 

Stu: If he becomes mayor, who will be elected City Council president? 

God: You won’t like it. Imagine an armadillo with the voice of a shriek owl. 

Stu: Helen Gym?

God: Still got that reporter’s instinct, huh, Sonny?

Stu: Don’t call me Sonny! And what will happen with these two clowns in charge? 

God: The city will empty out like a keg at a frat party. 

Stu: That could even make me leave. You still have a time share in The Villages?

God: Several. I’d be happy to arrange a lease. You might have to sign in blood. Heh, heh. That’s a joke, Sonny.

Stu: We’ll talk about it — and don’t call me Sonny! To everyone else, Happy New Year.