In Which I Rant at God and Grease the Skids to Hell

Dear God,

We have come to a cross-roads in our relationship. It has been building for some time. I try to believe but time and time again you let me down. We don’t talk much anymore I know, but I grew weary of one-sided conversations. I know that occasionally I’ll instant message you while I’m out on a run with requests like,

Dear God, please let me make it to the water fountain or at least the lake. If I can make it to the lake I will deal with the giardia and bacteria ravaging my intestine later this evening but now, now I need some water!! Oh, and God, could you please make sure that the port-o-potty about two miles up the road has been cleaned within the past few days? It was mighty rank the last time I used it.

You don’t respond but I take the fact that I was able to make it to the water fountain and the clean port-o-potty as a sign that you were listening.
I will admit you sometimes listen to the BIG things. Remember when Dingo Girl went into a seizure on the street and I thought she had been electrocuted by a stray volt from a light pole that Con Ed and the NYDOT refuse to fix or take accountability for? Remember how I prayed and cried and rushed her to the emergency room and she turned out to be okay? Yeah, thanks for that. I really mean it. There was also the time after her second knee surgery where she was in so much pain that she actually cried real tears. I didn’t know dogs could cry tears. I asked you for a favor then as well. I will say that you came through then. It was a rough night but I think you were there. So God, I’m starting to think that when it comes to animals you are the go-to guy. People, not so much. You don’t really like us much down here, do you?

Oh yeah, people will point to the wonderful things you do for us as proof that not only do you exist but that you love us beyond measure. The whole Christ on the cross thing? Saving us from our sins, gonna live in heaven – fantastic idea. But Jesus Christ! And I mean that literally, the whole Jesus Christ thing? Brutal, man. You would think, that being God and all, you could’ve picked a less sadistic way to save us from our sins. We don’t need any more proof about man’s inhumanity to man; what we need is proof that you give a shit. And if you let your own son go through that hell to prove you love us, I’m not sure that you’d do much more for me if you need to prove a point to someone else. Hey, I just call it as I see it.

Mwahhahahah!Remember when Mom and I asked you to protect my nieces and nephew while we were separated from them? Um, based on recent things that I have learned, you must have been busy attending the kickball games between the Seraphims and the Cherubims because they were pretty much on their own. I think you interpret your own “Suffer the little children” a little differently than the rest of us. I can see why you might let me slip through the cracks. I take your name in vain, I attend church so sporadically that when I walk in the pastor calls the Vatican to record the occurrence of a miracle, and I have broken one or more of the Ten Commandments. Repeatedly. But the kids? Really? What did they ever do to you?

I would like to ask what you were thinking but when I ask the people who are supposed to know, the Creflo Dollars (What kind of name is that? It just screams, “Send me your money so I can wear Armani in the pulpit!”) and the Billy Grahams of this world, I am told that I can’t understand the mind of God. Gee thanks, that’s like giving me a GPS that only speaks in Japanese, a car with no steering wheel, and instructions telling me that I have everything I need to get to the Ben & Jerry’s factory where I can eat as much as I want for free but not gain any weight. I want to get there but you are not playing fair!!!

But today God, today took the cake. I’m not even pissed on my behalf but you have royally (being the King and all) screwed over someone who really outshines and puts to shame all the hypocrites, fake do-gooders, Jerry Falwells, and Pat Robertsons that spread your Word with their smarmy grins as they pocket the hopes and dollars of people who can least afford it. With your man sandals (I guess we should be thankful you aren’t wearing socks with them) you have stepped on my Mom – again. Somehow, she see’s your “hand” in everything and continues to believe you have her best interests at heart. The only hand I see is a slap in the face for all the faith, hope and love she has lavished on you all her life. So, while the wicked prospers – Jackass, if you are even reading this (not that you are because you could care less about Mom, me, or anything else that would cramp your new lifestyle with your whore girlfriend), this means you – Mom has been dealt another blow. But she’s an amazing woman. I don’t think it’s any thanks to you – although she would disagree. She remains faithful. And strong.

So God, I may as well sever ties with all my fathers holy and wholly. Because for all the help I see you giving your so-called children, well, I can fuck up my life enough all by myself. Your assistance is not required.

Sincerely,

Dingo