An annual conversation between Your Favorite Columnist and God that has been going on for more than a quarter century.
YFC: Yo, God! It’s Stu! Where are you?
God: Sshhhh. I’m over here, in the workshop. I’m wrapping my secret Santa gift.
YFC: Nice robe. You celebrate Christmas?
God: Of course I do. Christmas, Hanukkah, Eid, Groundhog Day, the whole shmay. The robe is Egyptian cotton. My friend Moses got it for me. He was my secret Santa.
YFC: Who is your the gift for?
God: Buddha. Sweet guy. I got him a BowFlex Max Trainer. He’s a little on the heavy side.
YFC: You’re not fat shaming, are you?
God: Me? Buddha? Not a chance, but that Pritzker guy. . .
YFC: The governor of Illinois?
God: That’s the one. The obese billionaire with strange ideas.
YFC: Such as?
God: He thinks he can close all the jails, and can be President.
YFC: Some people think he can.
God: “Some people” don’t control destiny, Sonny. (God winks)
YFC: Please don’t call me “Sonny.” We’ve been through this before. And I thought you didn’t meddle in politics.
God: I didn’t, and Trump got elected. Oy.
YFC: You don’t approve of Trump?
God: Is the Pope a Cubs fan?
YFC: Speaking of baseball, which team do you root for?
God: All of them, but I have special affection for the Angels and Padres. By the way, WTF kind of name is the Guardians, in Cleveland?
YFC: It replaced “Indians,” which some people thought was racist.
God: But Indians call themselves Indians.
YFC: Don’t ask me, you’re the all-knowing.
God: Sorry, kiddo. The Woke try the patience of a saint. They can’t even call a Christmas tree a Christmas tree. It becomes a “holiday” tree. What holiday do they think — Arbor Day? You want to talk world affairs?
YFC: Not really.
God: So the Gaza truce is holding, fingers crossed; Thailand’s bombing Cambodia; Russia’s still trying to swallow Ukraine; Canada’s ready to close its border with the U.S.; Rwanda’s killing Congo civilians; Taiwan is nervous as a tick about an invasion by China . . .
YFC: Hey, the Phillies signed Schwarber.
God: Oh, you want to talk sports.
YFC: The Eagles won the Super Bowl!
God: You’re welcome.
YFC: Did you do that?
God: I don’t want to brag. Vanity is a sin.
YFC: And this year, who wins?
God: I am not allowed to say.
YFC: You are God! Who can tell you what to do?
God: The missus. She’s a terror, I tell you!
YFC: You are married?
God: What’s so strange about that? You think I wash this robe myself?
YFC: That’s kind of sexist, but I never really thought about it. OK. Let’s talk about humanity. How are we doing?
God: More mixed than a frittata. There’s a lot of good people out there, but a lot of bad, too. As you know, I am infallible, but that free will thing, I wish I could have that one back.
YFC: Umm, God?
God: What?
YFC: Like, uh, you are God! You can change anything. Can’t you just snap your fingers, or whatever?
God: Yes, but no one likes a flip-flopper.
YFC: How about the Oscars moving from ABC to You Tube?
God: What a genius segue! #OscarsSoWhite. Remember that? I prefer the Golden Globes, where they’re all half drunk and half out of their clothes. Remember when Ricky Gervais hosted? He cut those Hollywood stiffs a new ayehole. Speaking of that, I heard you’re in the Epstein files.
YFC: What? That’s a terrible lie!
God: But I saw it on the Internet. (Giggling)
YFC: Did you bother to fact-check it on ChatGPT? (Laughing) You’re as funny as a bike lane.
God: What a pain in the tuchas they are. Definitely from the Prince of Darkness.
YFC: You mean Satan?
God: Yeah, but he just changed his name.
YFC: To what?
God: Stephen A. Smith.
YFC: Hey! Leave him alone. He’s a fellow Bronx boy. Some people think he will run for President.
God: Well, he’ll never need a P.A. system. Amyway, it’s getting late. I don’t want to miss Happy Hour.
YFC: You drink?
God: You think I’d give you beer and wine and not drink? How much time do you spend at Cracker Barrel?
YFC: Not much, but I’d like to spend a lot of time with Sydney Sweeney.
God: I’ll tell Santa. Don’t hold your breath.
YFC: See you next year.
God: You should live so long.
YFC: (All nervous) What?
God: Don’t sweat it, Sonny. Just pulling your chain.
