Please stop asking me to do trivial things like opening jars of pickles or helping you shoot a basketball through a hoop. Like I’m supposed to drop what I’m doing and run to God every 10 seconds saying, “Quickly father, there’s one of your flock who needs a really good parking spot now!”???
Open up a newspaper. There are lots of much bigger things going on that I need to attend to. And apparently I’m very backed up. Do you really expect me to take a break from floods, earthquakes, wars and famines to clear up your skin in time for your big date Saturday night? There are creams for that my friend. Seek, and you shall find them.
And while we’re on the subject, please stop crediting me every time your favorite team wins a game. Because chances are people rooting for the other side are now wondering why I forsook them. I didn’t. I was ignoring all of you. Call me when you have something important to discuss.
Because if you give me credit every time you lose a little weight or find extra change in your pocket, then you’ll also have to start blaming me when things go wrong. Pretty soon you won’t be able to stub your toe or catch a cold without thinking, “Jesus hates me!” – see how crazy-making that is?
Now run along and stop being so neurotic.
A Thousand Smooches,
J.C.
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