A frustrated God reaches down to Peter Sherwood for answers [PHOTO COURTESY OF Adobe Stock]
A frustrated God reaches down to Peter Sherwood for answers [PHOTO COURTESY OF Adobe Stock]
You may be familiar with my unsolicited chats with God. When He’s on a rant I seem to cop it. I don’t badger Him for the winning numbers of the trifecta at Happy Valley, or a fat-free version of Sydney’s 1,048-calorie dessert “The Cannoli Bazooka,” so why me? It’s puzzling how an omnipotent being can get so neurotic. The latest tirade came on Sunday morning and reverberated off the balcony with a boom; loud enough for the neighbours to gossip about “that psycho nut muttering to God again,” but I feel bound to respond or risk a million volts rendering me a cinder in the pot plant.
Lately, it’s all about the 21st century and so-called “progress”. He’s become a reactionary technophobe, whining about how it’s not like the good old days; electric cars replacing camels, people talking business on shiny screens instead of having a good old haggle in the bazaar. Too risky to interject, so I suck it up.
I suggested He might refrain from the interminable expostulation and got a tongue-lashing for using pretentious language: “Keep it simple, Sherwood,” he said. “You’re not Shakespeare, but you do get published, so tell the world I’m not happy.” Gee God, you hang out in churches and temples, you tell them. “Don’t be insolent or I’ll…” OK, OK, I’m sorry.
“People are always pleading so I closed the answering service 3,000 years ago. Too much work when I’m trying to take it easy after creating the universe and all. Between you and me I could use a week or two at a Thai spa. So, listen up: someone is trying to take over.” Who? “Hang on, I’ve got it written on this clay tablet… his name is A… something. He’s trying to organise Earth with ice-cold ruthlessness and a lack of compassion.” Putin? “Don’t be silly, it starts with A.” Alphonse Capone? “That thug was ages ago and I got the tax people to nail him, you know, make law enforcement look good.”
Someone more powerful than you, God?! “Well, not yet, but it’s a worry; if you lot stop believing I’m out of a job.” Albert, Alan? Give me a hint. “He makes everything happen automatically, with brutal efficiency, removing all the unpredictability I created for your dreary existence to be a bit more Disney. He’s making me look bad.”
I don’t know, God. Down here once you’ve established a reputation it tends to stick. I mean, look at Trump. “Don’t blaspheme or I’ll…” OK God, whatever you say. “Maybe it’s on my Facebook page.” You’re on Facebook, God?! “Well, it’s for old people these days.”
But I thought you were anti- technology. “Facebook’s not technology, ask the 20-somethings. It’s Stone-Age stuff.” OK, message me then. “I can’t do that, we’re not Friends.” Geez, God, we’re buddies enough for you to yell at me. No need to go off in high dudgeon. “There you go again. What did I tell you about fancy words? But hang on, I know, I know… sounds like Gomorrah, Gotham. No, don’t tell me. It’s, it’s… Al Gorithm!” Aiiiiiiiiiahhhh…
Peter Sherwood has lived in DB for 20+ years. The former head of an international public relations firm, he is the author of 15 books and has written around 400 satirical columns for the South China Morning Post.