[Disclaimer: This article is satire, or what we used to call "fake news" before actual fake news started poisoning the political discourse!]
Saying He is “misunderstood,” God took the form of a Chihuahua to meet our reporter in Death Valley.
Reporter: (texting madly) “Okay, James, big joke. Here I am in the middle of nowhere baking in Death Valley for my big mystery interview you set up, and there’s no one or nothing in sight for miles.”
James Israel, Editor, Humor Times: (texting back) “ Trust me, this is a big break for Humor Times.”
Suddenly a text runs across the reporter’s iPhone: “I’m ready to begin my interview, but I’m not a form that humans can see. So think of how you’d like me to appear, and I’ll take that form.”
Reporter: (speaking out loud) “Sure, I’ll go along with the gag, how about a Golden Retriever — no wait it’s too hot for him, make it a Chihuahua.”
A glowing Chihuahua suddenly materializes before him.
Reporter: “Whaaaa, are you some kind of an alien?”
Chihuahua: “No, some call me Jehovah, Yawheh, Allah, the Almighty…”
Reporter: “Are you telling me you’re … God?!”
Chihuahua: “That good, let’s keep it simple.”
Reporter: “If you’re God, why would you ever choose Humor Times for your interview.”
Chihuahua: “I’m trying to change my image. People picture me as either this scary, vindictive guy who doles out gory punishments to his bad children, or this mushy guy who loves everyone no matter who they are or what they do. No one ever gets my sense of humor. And I’ve given them plenty of examples: the duckbill platypus, dogs with dreadlocks, Adam’s apples, Donald Trump, and they still don’t get me.”
Reporter: “What message do you want to send in this interview?”
Chihuahua: “I want them to know that they ALL have gotten it wrong. I don’t spend time waiting to zap someone every time they don’t do something that’s written on some clay tablets, scrolls, or book with gilded pages. There’s no such thing as time in eternity anyway. And I could care less what people choose to do with their various body parts.
“Come on, I created this entire universe, reality actually, don’t you think that’s really small potatoes by comparison? Wars are created by humans; I don’t ask them to wage them for me. And who decided to call natural disasters ‘acts of God’ — give me a break, after all I am the Creator, not the Destroyer. I’m really a laid back kind of being; I started this whole universe and enjoy kicking back with the Cherubim and Seraphim serenading me as I watch it spin out different forms on its own. And let me tell you, lots of my PR people have given me a bad name.”
Reporter: “Who are your PR people?”
Chihuahua: “You know, those holy folk caught doing some not-so-holy stuff.”
Reporter: “What do you think about religion then?”
Chihuahua: “Religion is people trying to explain the unexplainable. I find some of it kinda cute, the way they come up with wild stories about me. But the bickering about whose story is right gets really old.”
Reporter: “But how else can they understand?”
Chihuahua: “Look, I get it. They’re limited; they need something concrete to help them understand me. So, I don’t mind the caricatures that much — me throwing bolts of lightning, a talking burning bush, apparitions, hallucinations — whatever they need is okay by me as long as they realize that its just a device or a metaphor and don’t take it literally or seriously. Boy, I need someone who gets me!”
Reporter: “And who would that be?”
Chihuahua: “Mel Brooks”
Diane de Anda
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