Several weeks ago, I had the opportunity of a lifetime. I was granted an interview with God. Now, I know what you're saying: "Yeah, right. Like God would talk to YOU." Well, he didn't talk TO me - he talked WITH me, and boy, it was nothing like I expected. I received a call about a month ago saying to meet him at Jake's Burgers, which is a local legend for, well, burgers. When I arrived, he was already finishing up a jalapeno burger and kicking it down with a chocolate-vanilla shake and crab fries. He didn't look the way I expected. I mean, the hair and teeth were right on target, but the Ray-Ban aviator shades threw me a bit.
As I walked over the gravel parking lot after getting out of my car, he gave me one of those big arm waves, like he was trying to hail a cab in the rain. I had already eaten, but he pushed the crab fries plate at me and gestured towards the paper cup of wine vinegar. As I reached for my pen and notepad, images of ZZ Top videos ricocheted through my mind. With that, I was ready for the interview of a lifetime...
Me: So...God, what's new?
God: Are you kidding me? You have a chance to talk to the creator of the universe and that's the first thing you can ask me? Why don't you ask me about my son, Jesus? Or what I think of the world's religions? How about my favorite movie?
Me: Ok, what is your favorite movie?
God: The Breakfast Club. I felt I could really relate to those kids.
Me: That wasn't really a serious ques...
God: Although I laughed my ass off watching Blazing Saddles. Do you remember the campfire scene?
Me: It was a classic. So, anyway, God, what motivated you to submit yourself to an interview?
God: I need the publicity.
Me: You? C'mon!
God: It's the truth. With so many people killing and dying in my name, there is a growing segment of the global population that is doubting that I even exist. You know the ones: "How could a wise, all-powerful God allow all of this suffering?"
Me: Well, since the question's on the table...
God: Free will! Free will, man! You think I set you bozos up so I would have to pull your strings 24/7? I have so much more on my plate than man. Ever look outside at night and see the billions and billions of stars?
Me: Yeah.
God: Guess who is responsible for all that? ME! While you're worried about your sickly 401ks and your low-carb diets, I have a freaking universe to run! Not only that, but I have hockey practice Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.
Me: Must be a real drag.
God: Tell me about it. Hey, toss me one of those Marlboros. I usually smoke Menthol but I forgot to stop by the store on the way here.
Me: So, is Jesus really man's savior? Is he really your son?
God: Do you have kids?
Me: No.
God: Well, let me tell you something about being a single parent. There I am, busting my ass, creating this little universe, with the light and the animals and the plants and all that business, and I basically give it to my kid and tell him to die for man's sins. I mean, it's not like I asked him to cut the grass or clean the pool, which, was a huge waste of money for me since all he did was walk across it. I guess I can't complain. He was a good kid. Never bugged me for money, kind of found his own way, but some days, whoa! it was like he was the anti-Christ...
Me: You mean...?
God: Figure of speech, Einstein. I mean, I love him all right, but's kind of tough when your only son doesn't fight back. I'm sure I don't need to remind you that I'm a pretty tough cat, myself. Here, let me roll up my sleeves. See that? Feel them. Feel those guns.
Me: I'd rather not. Hey, is that a tattoo?
God: Where?
Me: Right there! Does that say "Judas"?
God: Oh, hold on, let me roll it up more. There it is.
Me: Ah! "Judas Priest"! I didn't know you were into metal.
God: I'm not into the hair metal thing, like Poison and Motley Crue. But, I played bass and I can play "Smoke On The Water" from Deep Purple. Thinking about taking up drums.
Me: But, what about the Satanic symbolism in heavy metal music?
God: Please! Have you ever SEEN Satan?
Me: I used to date her.
God: Cut the comedy, kid. Leave it to the pros. Well, Satan doesn't look like what you think he looks like.
Me: What does he look like?
God: He looks like...oh, what's that dude's name? Deezen! Eddie Deezen. He looks like Eddie
Deezen.
As I walked over the gravel parking lot after getting out of my car, he gave me one of those big arm waves, like he was trying to hail a cab in the rain. I had already eaten, but he pushed the crab fries plate at me and gestured towards the paper cup of wine vinegar. As I reached for my pen and notepad, images of ZZ Top videos ricocheted through my mind. With that, I was ready for the interview of a lifetime...
Me: So...God, what's new?
God: Are you kidding me? You have a chance to talk to the creator of the universe and that's the first thing you can ask me? Why don't you ask me about my son, Jesus? Or what I think of the world's religions? How about my favorite movie?
Me: Ok, what is your favorite movie?
God: The Breakfast Club. I felt I could really relate to those kids.
Me: That wasn't really a serious ques...
God: Although I laughed my ass off watching Blazing Saddles. Do you remember the campfire scene?
Me: It was a classic. So, anyway, God, what motivated you to submit yourself to an interview?
God: I need the publicity.
Me: You? C'mon!
God: It's the truth. With so many people killing and dying in my name, there is a growing segment of the global population that is doubting that I even exist. You know the ones: "How could a wise, all-powerful God allow all of this suffering?"
Me: Well, since the question's on the table...
God: Free will! Free will, man! You think I set you bozos up so I would have to pull your strings 24/7? I have so much more on my plate than man. Ever look outside at night and see the billions and billions of stars?
Me: Yeah.
God: Guess who is responsible for all that? ME! While you're worried about your sickly 401ks and your low-carb diets, I have a freaking universe to run! Not only that, but I have hockey practice Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.
Me: Must be a real drag.
God: Tell me about it. Hey, toss me one of those Marlboros. I usually smoke Menthol but I forgot to stop by the store on the way here.
Me: So, is Jesus really man's savior? Is he really your son?
God: Do you have kids?
Me: No.
God: Well, let me tell you something about being a single parent. There I am, busting my ass, creating this little universe, with the light and the animals and the plants and all that business, and I basically give it to my kid and tell him to die for man's sins. I mean, it's not like I asked him to cut the grass or clean the pool, which, was a huge waste of money for me since all he did was walk across it. I guess I can't complain. He was a good kid. Never bugged me for money, kind of found his own way, but some days, whoa! it was like he was the anti-Christ...
Me: You mean...?
God: Figure of speech, Einstein. I mean, I love him all right, but's kind of tough when your only son doesn't fight back. I'm sure I don't need to remind you that I'm a pretty tough cat, myself. Here, let me roll up my sleeves. See that? Feel them. Feel those guns.
Me: I'd rather not. Hey, is that a tattoo?
God: Where?
Me: Right there! Does that say "Judas"?
God: Oh, hold on, let me roll it up more. There it is.
Me: Ah! "Judas Priest"! I didn't know you were into metal.
God: I'm not into the hair metal thing, like Poison and Motley Crue. But, I played bass and I can play "Smoke On The Water" from Deep Purple. Thinking about taking up drums.
Me: But, what about the Satanic symbolism in heavy metal music?
God: Please! Have you ever SEEN Satan?
Me: I used to date her.
God: Cut the comedy, kid. Leave it to the pros. Well, Satan doesn't look like what you think he looks like.
Me: What does he look like?
God: He looks like...oh, what's that dude's name? Deezen! Eddie Deezen. He looks like Eddie
Deezen.Me: That's hard to believe.
God: Hey, kid, nothing, and I mean NOTHING beats good PR, and Satan is with the best firm around. He uses Tom Cruise's agency.
Me: But people HATE Tom Cruise.
God: Yeah, but he still makes the cover of a half-dozen supermarket tabloids every week, doesn't he?
Me: Point taken. So, when does the world come to an end?
God: Not sure. I have no timeline.
Me: Yeah, but you're God. You must know.
God: Of course I know, but do you think I'm going to tell you? Next thing you know, you're on Oprah, or screaming about the end of the world on some city street corner wearing a sandwich board. Besides, who would believe you?
Me: Well, I have this interview right here.
God: Ok, Sparky, you're going to tell people that you interviewed me on the deck of Jake's Burgers? Get real, man!
Me: Well, does the world end the way Revelation says it is going to end?
God: Man thinks he knows how the world is going to end. He thinks he knows his future in the afterlife and what it will be like. I think that man is in for a surprise. A BIG surprise.
Me: Care to share a little bit more?
God: No. C'mon, man, help me eat these crab fries.
Me: Do you have a message for mankind? Anything I can pass along?
God: Nope. You're on your own. After all, you people wouldn't have it any other way. I gave you free will. I have no interest in controlling mankind. I'm God, not George Steinbrenner.
Me: What about the...
God: The meaning of life? This old chestnut again. The meaning of life is to have a life of meaning, which means, yes, that the meaning of life is different for everyone. Want a tidy answer? There it is, sport. Slap a bow on it.
Me: What do you think of George Carlin saying you don't exist?
God: I hate to beat on the free will drum again, but, y'know... Anyway, I kind of wish I had his audience.
Me: But, don't you have billions of worshippers?
God: Yeah, but he attracts a hipper audience. You won't find the American Gothic crowd at one of his shows. I still get a kick out of his "Seven Dirty Words" routine.
Me: What...
God: Look, Ken...
Me: Kevin
God: Kevin. Whatever. Instead of asking me these tired old stuffy questions, why don't you ask me something fun? 10 questions. Quick, off the top of your head. Go!
Me: Um, what's your favorite color?
God: Sea foam. Did the downstairs bathroom in that color.
Me: Favorite cereal?
God: Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch. Now you're getting the hang of it.
Me: Favorite album?
God: Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here"
Me: I would have thought "Dark Side of the Moon"
God: "Dark Side" is nice to chill to, but, I just learned how to play the opening to "Wish You Were Here" on guitar and I'm wearing out that CD right now. I usually just download off of Limewire, but, you don't get the same fidelity.
Me: Favorite food?
God: I'm a meat and potatoes kind of God, but sometimes all I want are chicken wings. Not too hot, though. I'm also not against eating Beefaroni straight out of the can.
Me: How about..?
God: Oh, and Godiva chocolate. Have you tried the chocolate raspberry?
Me: Favorite TV show?
God: Oooh, that's tough. We only get basic cable, but I just picked up the entire Sopranos series on eBay.
Me: So, do you know how it ends?
God: Of course I know how it ends - I'm God. I can't BELIEVE they copped out with that ending. I thought Tony was going to get whacked, but then I didn't want him to, but part of me still did. I'll never be able to listen to "Don't Stop Believing" without kicking my Playstation across the room.
Me: Ok, last question, but it has five parts: If you could have dinner...
God: With any five people throughout time, who would they be? You know, I always liked this question. Ok, here goes: Spike Lee, Rachael Ray, that Burger King dude, Jimmy Smits and Justin Timberlake.
Me: You've GOT to be kidding me.
God: Nope. Swear-to-Me. Look, I have to roll. Marshall's is having a sale on cargo shorts and we're almost into summer. Anything else you want to ask me?
Me: I'm sure I'll have a lot to ask you in the afterlife when I'm in Heaven.
God: Yeah, ok. Remember what I said about a "BIG surprise". Here, chief, you can pick up the tab. Nice chatting with you. And stop picking your nose in the car. I can see when you do that and we both know you don't wipe it on a tissue.
Me: Thanks, Lord. You're a real peach.
God: Don't mention it. Ever.
God: Hey, kid, nothing, and I mean NOTHING beats good PR, and Satan is with the best firm around. He uses Tom Cruise's agency.
Me: But people HATE Tom Cruise.
God: Yeah, but he still makes the cover of a half-dozen supermarket tabloids every week, doesn't he?
Me: Point taken. So, when does the world come to an end?
God: Not sure. I have no timeline.
Me: Yeah, but you're God. You must know.
God: Of course I know, but do you think I'm going to tell you? Next thing you know, you're on Oprah, or screaming about the end of the world on some city street corner wearing a sandwich board. Besides, who would believe you?
Me: Well, I have this interview right here.
God: Ok, Sparky, you're going to tell people that you interviewed me on the deck of Jake's Burgers? Get real, man!
Me: Well, does the world end the way Revelation says it is going to end?
God: Man thinks he knows how the world is going to end. He thinks he knows his future in the afterlife and what it will be like. I think that man is in for a surprise. A BIG surprise.
Me: Care to share a little bit more?
God: No. C'mon, man, help me eat these crab fries.
Me: Do you have a message for mankind? Anything I can pass along?
God: Nope. You're on your own. After all, you people wouldn't have it any other way. I gave you free will. I have no interest in controlling mankind. I'm God, not George Steinbrenner.
Me: What about the...
God: The meaning of life? This old chestnut again. The meaning of life is to have a life of meaning, which means, yes, that the meaning of life is different for everyone. Want a tidy answer? There it is, sport. Slap a bow on it.
Me: What do you think of George Carlin saying you don't exist?
God: I hate to beat on the free will drum again, but, y'know... Anyway, I kind of wish I had his audience.
Me: But, don't you have billions of worshippers?
God: Yeah, but he attracts a hipper audience. You won't find the American Gothic crowd at one of his shows. I still get a kick out of his "Seven Dirty Words" routine.
Me: What...
God: Look, Ken...
Me: Kevin
God: Kevin. Whatever. Instead of asking me these tired old stuffy questions, why don't you ask me something fun? 10 questions. Quick, off the top of your head. Go!
Me: Um, what's your favorite color?
God: Sea foam. Did the downstairs bathroom in that color.
Me: Favorite cereal?
God: Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch. Now you're getting the hang of it.
Me: Favorite album?
God: Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here"
Me: I would have thought "Dark Side of the Moon"
God: "Dark Side" is nice to chill to, but, I just learned how to play the opening to "Wish You Were Here" on guitar and I'm wearing out that CD right now. I usually just download off of Limewire, but, you don't get the same fidelity.
Me: Favorite food?
God: I'm a meat and potatoes kind of God, but sometimes all I want are chicken wings. Not too hot, though. I'm also not against eating Beefaroni straight out of the can.
Me: How about..?
God: Oh, and Godiva chocolate. Have you tried the chocolate raspberry?
Me: Favorite TV show?
God: Oooh, that's tough. We only get basic cable, but I just picked up the entire Sopranos series on eBay.
Me: So, do you know how it ends?
God: Of course I know how it ends - I'm God. I can't BELIEVE they copped out with that ending. I thought Tony was going to get whacked, but then I didn't want him to, but part of me still did. I'll never be able to listen to "Don't Stop Believing" without kicking my Playstation across the room.
Me: Ok, last question, but it has five parts: If you could have dinner...
God: With any five people throughout time, who would they be? You know, I always liked this question. Ok, here goes: Spike Lee, Rachael Ray, that Burger King dude, Jimmy Smits and Justin Timberlake.
Me: You've GOT to be kidding me.
God: Nope. Swear-to-Me. Look, I have to roll. Marshall's is having a sale on cargo shorts and we're almost into summer. Anything else you want to ask me?
Me: I'm sure I'll have a lot to ask you in the afterlife when I'm in Heaven.
God: Yeah, ok. Remember what I said about a "BIG surprise". Here, chief, you can pick up the tab. Nice chatting with you. And stop picking your nose in the car. I can see when you do that and we both know you don't wipe it on a tissue.
Me: Thanks, Lord. You're a real peach.
God: Don't mention it. Ever.
