Rainbow Shinin'

 

Swedish Girl

The Tale of Everything and All That Comes With It

Dear Ned,

I am writing to you because I’m sick and tired of my existence, and sick and tired of ruminating upon it. So here I am asking for your sage advice. However, before I get into the nitty gritty of the state of things, I have to warn you; I am not your average person with an average person’s complaints so I am not going to be disappointed if you, upon learning the scope of my issues, are utterly, absolutely overwhelmed and indeed unable to help me, but I’ve taken this into account and, as I have nothing to lose and only myself to blame for letting things slide this far, I will ask for your input nonetheless.

So, without further ado, let me introduce myself.

I am God (he/him/she/her/they/them/it etcetera etcetera), though, truth be told, I prefer he/him. He/Him, to be precise because… well, I just do. Call Me what you will, a traditionalist, an old God set in His ways or what have you, but it is what it is. I am He, the Almighty. Visually, I am That which you are imagining right now. More Gandalf than Santa Claus, but whatever works for you. Tweak it any way you like. And just so you know, you cannot directly speak to Me; I would never allow that. I’ve never spoken to anyone in My life. Which is basically eternity; obviously. Anyone who says I speak to them is making it up. I never speak to any body; people least of all. And why? I hear you ask. Well, that’s exactly why I’m here.

People just don’t know when to stop. I’m constantly being asked to interfere on people’s behalf in all ways, at all times, and this has become a massive problem. It shouldn’t be, I get it, I am the Almighty, and as such have solutions for everything; I could just wipe the whole lot of you from the face of this Earth, but I prefer not to employ extreme measures for reasons which ought to be apparent to a fellow thinker such as your dear self, Ned, so we need not go into it. It’s the sort of things people ask Me for that bothers Me; it’s the stupidity of it all, the sheer imbecility of the human race in toto, the endless whining and complaining about idiotic foolish things, the ridiculous mindboggling pathetic minutiae folks heap upon Me that’s got Me depressed; it’s gotten so bad, I’ve even begun to contemplate self-annihilation (which you’d be surprised is extremely easy for Me to do, dear Ned; if I stop believing in Myself I’m gone, it’s that simple), but I don’t want to go that far. That’s pure laziness, and I’m a very hard-working Entity. Still, the stuff people bleat on about to Me is truly appalling; it has Me reaching for forks to plunge into My ears, I kid you not, dear Ned; it makes Me want to indulge in Heavenly hijinks: plummet to Earth in a ball of flames, throw Myself out of Heaven like some naughty adolescent Angel, (yes, that’s how low I’ve sunk in My contemplations), even go into the Light to end it all, but I simply can’t. That sort of skylarking is not for the likes of Me; after all, I am God; I simply have too much responsibility. I’m not asking for Miracles, dear Ned, I can do those Myself and, believe you Me, they’re not as much fun as you guys think. All I’m asking for is a bit of time off, a little understanding, some consideration from Mere Mortals for My position, a sliver of respect, a glimmer of hope for some peace and quiet. But no, all I hear from the Huddled Masses is gimme gimme gimme, all the effin’ time.

The demands never stop. The volume alone would give anyone a pause; talking about a mountain to climb; what with the human population exploding over the last century and the technological advances in medicine, it’s been a logistical nightmare for Me but never mind that. I little massacre here, a little weather event there, and I manage to keep things pretty stable, overall. You would think people had some sense of perspective by now; what with the famine, the wars, the floods, the fires, the earthquakes and the plaques I send upon them, folks would have figured out by now that I don’t give a – you know what, and stop bothering Me. But no, after all these years, and we’re talking millennia here, this ungrateful selfish seething mess of an ignorant general populace continues to bug Me on and on, completely clueless, asking and begging, bargaining and threatening; it’s driving Me nuts. But forget the volume or the frequency; I could just tune out, which I sometimes do, but even a God like Me can’t do what He wants all the time; it’s My job to listen, so I do. It’s the nature of these never-ending requests from every corner of this Earth that truly galls Me.

For instance, I’ve had it up to here (I am indicating the neck area near My Adam’s apple; BTW, that dude never had one as I never gave him one) with prayers demanding My assistance with talent shows and cooking competitions; as you can imagine I do have other things to worry about (insert famine, wars, ethnic cleansing, wild animal trade, corruption and plaques in the developing world; and the fluctuating share market, uncontrolled migration, human trafficking, wars, corruption and the housing crisis in the developed world) so I would really appreciate if people’s prayers revolved around those issues rather than the aforementioned talent and cooking shows, house reno competition outcomes, plastic surgery reality tv outcomes, weight loss goals, job promotions, Netflix password recovery, website traffic, Instagram followers, Facebook likes, etcetera etcetera, you get My drift. FYI, dear Ned, as you would expect I am across all social media platforms (where some of My tech savvy disciples go wild; I blame the times we live in as well as the nature of the crowd I attract) but I chose to single out Instagram and Facebook here as I do very well on Insta and, between you and Me, personally maintain a Facebook page (under a pseudonym, of course, as personal safety is a concern even for Me, would you believe, dear Ned?), and I have enjoyed My interactions there, occasionally. My profile is nothing special as I do not want to attract any nutcases (well, not more than the usual lot) but I’ve chosen to give Myself a few interesting human traits, some appealing characteristics and likeable quirks One might say, as I like to remain relatable for engagement purposes. Call Me vain, call Me narcissistic, but as I am the Ultimate Influencer, I live to be seen. And to serve. Me, of course. I owe it to My Public. For Deities in My position, the Public (preferably adoring) is everything. In My case, I’ve succeeded on this point beyond My wildest dreams. Which is why we’re here, dear Ned.

I’m sick of humans, and yet I can’t exist without them. It’s a conundrum alright. And do not think for a minute, dear Ned, that I am not aware of the irony at play here; I do realize that if I weren’t as popular as I am, I wouldn’t be in this position - totally exhausted by My own fame, hence My problem. We could go around in this circle indefinitely, but indefinitely is… well, a very long time, and I simply, ironically, do not have the time for that. I feel very strongly that by now you have a firm grasp on My difficulties, and I await your sage advice.

Yours Humbly,

The Almighty

Ned’s reply:

Dear God,

Here’s my advice as per my job description (i.e. I am replying because I get paid for it and no other reason): If You want people to stop bothering You with their sh*t, make Yourself scarce. Eventually (and that means in about 5 minutes in today’s human attention span terms) people will forget all about You, and Thy will be done.

P. S. On a personal note, God, I do not give a rat’s ass about Your existential crisis. I got enough of my own. But You already know that and yet, despite my repeated prayers, have done nothing to help me. So up Yours, dear Lord!

Yours Eternally

Ned

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