Pocket Change

Wealth is worthless in the day of wrath, but righteousness delivers from death. (Proverbs 11:4)

Okay. Just for the sake of argument, let’s say that God can’t be bought off. Of course, this goes against my whole game plan which is totally based on being able to cut a last-minute deal with him. Since I’m not all that good in the righteousness department, I’m hoping we can come to some kind of agreement that we can both live with—literally.

I’m not talking about passing him a few bucks to show me to a better table. On the day that the proverbial shiitake hits the fan, the Supreme Maître d’ isn’t likely to be impressed by a fistful of charred currency (though a Starbucks card could buy a little time). Besides, the dude’s already got everything money can buy and most of what it can’t. The big mistake rich people make is assuming that God is impressed by the same crap they are. These people have zilch of a chance at swinging any special favors. God is above that chintzy approach.

My personal approach goes something like this:


ME: Whoa! Could you turn down the volume a little?

GOD: Oh. Sorry. That better?

ME: Yeah. Thanks.

GOD: Like I was saying, this is the day of wrath! This is the day I reveal the secrets of men! This is the day all flesh will be laid bare before me and—

ME: Wait a minute. Did you say bare? As in naked?

GOD: I guess. I never really thought about it. Think it’s a bit much?

ME: Maybe a little overkill. And with health concerns and all that, maybe you should do more of a metaphorical thing.

GOD: Hey, that’s a great idea. Come to think of it, that would work really well for a lot of the things I’ve said that didn’t work out all that well. The metaphor idea would give me a little latitude.

ME: And you’d still technically be keeping your word. And the ambiguity will keep scholars busy for a few thousand years too.

GOD: I like it. I like it. Say, you’re pretty good at this word thing.

ME: (winking) I learned from the best.

GOD: I might be able to use somebody like you around here. I’ve heard talk that I tend to repeat myself.

ME: I suppose I could give you a hand—I mean, that is if you plan on keeping me around.

GOD: (flipping through some papers) Hmmm. Your record’s a little shaky, son. Actually, a lot shaky. I don’t know.

ME: I realize that. Creativity is so hard to control.

GOD: Tell me about it. I’m still trying to explain ringworms.

ME: I’d make a great speech writer for you. Nobody can do satiric religious humor like me. (lowering voice) And, to be honest, you could use a bit more humor in your “thus saith the Lord” stuff, if you know what I mean.

GOD: Well . . .

ME: Take the Sermon on the Mount. Nice, but boring. I could have given you, “Blessed are the meek for they shall get through airport security faster.”

GOD: Can I use that one?

ME: Sure—if  I’m on the payroll and exempted from the wrath thing.

GOD: You can put more oomph in my oracles?

ME: No sweat, Daddy-o.

GOD: Deal.

ME: Do I get an office with a view?

GOD: Don’t push it.


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