THE HOLIDAY season is an appropriate time for Your Favorite Columnist to pay one of his occasional calls on God.
YFC: Good morning, God.
God: Good morning, lad. Merry Christmas.
YFC: Ah, my tribe doesn't celebrate Christmas, except for the all-American gift-giving part.
God: You sound like most Christians. They spend, put a tree up, drink egg nog, sing "Rudolph" and they're done. They forget it's my son's birthday.
YFC: Um, God? Jesus wasn't actually born on Dec. 25. The Julian calendar . . .
God: Sssh. We're trying to keep that from the goyim.
YFC: It's not, you know, like a secret.
God: Leave it alone. What's on your mind?
YFC: Some atheists put up a billboard saying, "Don't believe in God? You are not alone." Your reaction?
God: George Carlin didn't believe either. Where's he today? (Snicker)
YFC: He died. Do you know where he is?
God: Do you think I'm called the All-Knowing just because of my fluffy white beard, flowing robe and Birkenstocks?
YFC: I get it. So where's Carlin?
God: Not saying. That's for the Eternal to know and for you to figure out.
YFC: (Sigh) OK, different subject. Are you into the NFL this season?
God: Even though I have the best seat in the house, and I'm naturally partial to my Saints, no.
YFC: Why not?
God: I know the score of every game before it's played. It's like watching "The Crying Game" a second time. No surprises.
YFC: Oh, sure, it's that all-knowing thing. Hmmm. If you'd share some of this Sunday's scores with me I could make some money.
God: That's cheating, Stu.
YFC: C'mon. My bookie is an atheist. I could kill him.
God: So could I, any time I want. Drop it, I'm telling you.
YFC: You don't want to talk sports.
God: I'll talk Tiger Woods, that pisher.
YFC: I'll pass. Assess the national situation today.
God: Dire, I'm sorry to say. War, ignorance, crime, poverty, terrorism, AIDS, unemployment, restless-legs syndrome. It's disheartening. When I gave humans free will, I expected better.
YFC: How can we improve?
God: Stop killing each other. That would be a good start.
YFC: Many of us feel the same way. How do you feel about Barack Obama's victory?
God: Awesome. I'm proud of him, proud of America. Barack's a chip off the old block.
YFC: Wait! Are you saying he is the Messiah, like Rush Limbaugh calls him?
God: Just pulling your chain, Roscoe. Take a chill pill.
YFC: Let's go global. What's the problem with radical Islam?
God: They call me Allah and they murder in my name. I won't tell you what I call them. Hezbollah. Hamas. Taliban. Al Qaeda, you name it. After they blow people up, they think they're in for 72 dark-eyed virgins? They're in for a very nasty surprise.
YFC: Tell me.
God: Can't. It's a surprise!
God: Not allowed.
YFC: Not allowed? You're God! Who can tell you what to do?
God: There's the wife, the board of directors.
YFC: The wife?
God: Sssh. She'll hear. She's got ears like a Schnauzer.
YFC: You can trust me.
God: I thought you were a still a columnist.
YFC: That hurts, God. A scoop like that could make my career.
God: An interview with God isn't enough? How lame are you?
YFC: I give up.
God: Good. By the way, there's no wife and no board of directors. This isn't Costco. I punk'd you.
YFC: That's quite a sense of humor you've got.
God: I'm getting pointers from George Carlin.
YFC: Carlin! He's in heaven? He hated religion.
God: He made fun of religion, but I looked into his heart, I saw he cared about people so I took him home with me.
YFC: How's he doing up there?
God: Cracks me up. He learned to be funny without dirty words, but was all the time kvetching about no pot. I gave him Termini chocolate-covered bananas and that shut him up.
YFC: There's my scoop! Anything you want to add?
God: I'd like to go on "Oprah." Do you know her? Maybe you could put in a word.
YFC: 'Fraid not.
God: "The View"?
YFC: I'm not hooked up. Anything else?
God: Tell the people to stop killing each other. Work on it. Please.
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