Monday, November 7, 2016

Day 7--God For A Day.

I was doing one of my favorite things tonight, watching football, when suddenly a tripping call by the ref made me laugh. Tripping just sounds like such a stupid penalty, and the thought hit me: what if we could go around in life and just throw yellow flags at people who annoy the bejesus out of us and penalize them? Or better yet, what if we got to be God for like, a day, how would we deal with people? 

Me, I'd be an NFL ref of the planet. And I would rock it. I am hard-pressed to believe that I'd be all grace-granting and loving and stuff. I don't know. Because far too many people have just made me want to chop them in the windpipe, especially in the course of the past year. I have thrown out more side eye in the past twelve months than the previous 39 years combined. I'm pretty sure that me, as God, would look something like a pissed off Dorothy Zbornak in a zebra costume.

First off, I'd stroll around in my outfit, seeking out the screw-ups. It wouldn't be difficult. Because millennials, crazy exes and Rachel Maddow exist. Easy peasy.

"You! Over there! Yeah, you! The one who needs a safe space because a thinking person hurt your sensitive little feelings! That's a penalty. Go watch a Clint Eastwood movie and learn to load a Ruger before you can come back in this life game again." 

Then I'd run upon people who are doing really, really abnormal things, or what I perceive to be abnormal things, in their private time. Remember, I'm omnsicient AND omnipresent today. I just saw what that guy in that dingy little apartment, the trucker hat and the greasy fingers was up to. 

And, just no. 

 Nope, nope nope. Not even gonna look at you, dude, you're just having several seats and it's GON' BE HOT. 

Then there's dealing with people who are just annoying. Like, pulling out 473 coupons at the checkout stand. Driving 9mph in the carpool lane. That lady that brought her seemingly 17 kids to Walmart at 9pm and wants them to go ahead and block the aisles at every turn. I JUST WANT PICKLES, LADY!
People who I want to just flick right off the earth because it seems like they exist just to be a complete evil snail to me (watch The Office. Evil snails are a thing).  They stay in my life like herpes would, and I welcome them about as much as I would a festering outbreak.  

"You. I just really really would like the experience of not knowing you. You have been nothing but a herpatic lesion on my soul. And for that? YOU'RE OUTTA HERE!"

They are therefore banished to the locker room in hell, complete with U2 songs playing on a loop, where the only tv channels are the Golf Channel and QVC and you have to eat vegan forever (this is my hell. Get your own). 

Plus, I get to be the ultimate judge. People are coming to me and complaining about the littlest things, and I get to decide their fate. "Oh, he TRIPPED you? That must have been so traumatizing for you. You know what? That's it. That's holding, on you. For holding me back from enjoying my day as Zebra God with your stupid little problems. That's right. Now you have to get 5 yards away from me." 

It would be a good day. Striking fear into my followers because I'm wearing ominous stripes, and banning people who get under my skin to a vegan life with Rachel Maddow and replays of Tiger Woods (after the whole 14 mistresses and taking a club to the head by his wife thing).

I know that's how I'd roll in my Striped Dorothy God getup.

How would you do God For A Day? 

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