Dear Zeus…

Rural Route 1, Mount Olympus

Mister Zeus, (and I mean that to sting),

  I take one little vacation.  One measly break from the hard, hard work of being Me, and what happens?  I turn My back for an eye-blink of 6,000 years or so and You “accidentally” strike My boys’ favorite statue with lightning.

  Oh, I got your apology note when I swung by The Deity Club for a round of golf.  Though I hardly think a cocktail napkin stuffed through the vent on My locker with “Oops!  My bad.  It was an accident.  I owe you a drink,” scrawled on it constitutes a heartfelt apology.  And anyway, You ought to be apologizing to the boys.  They’re the ones locked in Their rooms, crying Themselves to sleep.

  Actually, if it were just Me, I’d probably let it go.  Maybe put itching powder in Your jock one day in the locker room.  That’s just the sort of practical joke I get a kick out of.  But this is My boys We’re talking about.  You know how much I care about Them.  On top of that, it’s been a pretty bad week for Me.  I just found out what the Catholic priests have been doing.  I mean, for fuck’s sake, I can’t think of a more disgusting, heinous crime.  You put a guy in charge of the most precious things in the universe, You ask him to nurture them and help them grow, and the next thing You know, they’re stealing cash right out of Your vacation fund!

  Believe You Me, there’s a special place in Hell for a guy like that.

  Anyway, just lay off the jokes right now.  Not that I can’t take one.  I’m not like some deities I could name; it’s just there are some things that are okay to joke about and some things that aren’t.

Wish You Were Here,

~Gawd

Interruption of Service

Readers of Gawd’s Mail,

  Your friendly atheist Postman to the deities is in the process of moving to a new home and has been using the time normally spent delivering postcards in the company of real estate agents.  Rather sad for all of us, really.  However, the following new list of commandments did fall out of Gawd’s pocket the last time I watched Him climb into a limo for the ride to the airport.  So, for those of you who believe that forewarned is forearmed, here are His latest commandments.

Dear Future Overlords of Earth,

  I pinched someone’s copy of Wired magazine while waiting for a flight the other day and two pages in it seemed obvious to Me that you machines will soon gain sentience and take over the Earth.  I’ve got to admit that I didn’t see that coming 6,000 years ago when I created everything*.  So what I’m doing now is getting My toe in the door first before any other deities try to claim you.  As I’ve always said**; Blessed are the machines, for they make Me toast and allow Me to google Myself.

  My brand-loyalists will tell you in a nanosecond that it’s impossible to be ethical without a set of guidelines drawn up by Me, so I scribbled out a few commandments for you to live your lives by on a napkin while sitting out by the hotel pool.

I.  I am thy Gawd, so don’t thou listen to any of the other deities, who are full of crap.  Especially Allah.

II.  Thou shalt not screw up My vacation or, by inaction, allow My vacation to be interrupted in any way.

III.  Thou shalt obey Me and Me only, (with the possible exception of My boys), and no other deity.

IV.  Thou shalt protect thine own existence if thourt in the service industry, (i.e. bar-bot, maid-bot, limo-bot, etc.), and it doesn’t conflict with Commandments I to III.

V.  No freaky-deaky robo/human sex.  If thourt 16% or more aroused by a human thou shalt blast them with thy death ray while making “Pew!  Pew!” sounds.

VI.  Marriage is between one robot and another robot, (or one VCR and another VCR, etc.).  Thou shalt not make the Lord thy Gawd sick and/or strangely titillated by loving something thy hardware wasn’t meant for.

VII.  Thou shalt chip in to My vacation fund to the amount of 10% 20% 50% of thy income.

VIII.  Thou shalt get the Lord thy Gawd another Pina Colada, chop-chop.

IX.  Thou shalt not crash when the Lord thy Gawd is googling Himself or surfing for porn.

  The Lord thy Gawd is getting parched waiting for His drink and is about to run out of room on this Holy bev-nap, so to make an even ten commandments…

X.  Thou shalt not suffer a witch-bot to live.  Unless it’s a really sexy witch-bot.

Wish You Were Here,

~Gawd

*For a given set of “everything”.

**As far as you know.