“I want to just thank everybody, and in particular, God. We love you, God.”
— Donald Trump, announcing strikes on Iran
Hi. It’s Me, God.
I know what you’re thinking: I always imagined that if God existed, and cared about one thing, it would be peace. Peace, and keeping children from dying, perhaps? How did You get involved in sending those bombers to Iran, to “lower the temperature of global conflict while simultaneously kind of raising it here in order to lower it,” in the immortal words of freshman Representative Pat Harrigan of North Carolina?
Does Your involvement imply that anyone has a plan, other than thinking that they are smarter than every other president? There is a Greek word for that, and it isn’t plan.
No God worth Their salt would be tangled up in war, you are thinking, least of all a war being waged by the Trump administration, which has the long-term strategic acumen of an enraged opossum stuck in a trash bag. This is a president who thinks he can will a cease-fire into being via Truth Social posts alone.
Didn’t you used to make helium and rhinos and the concept of time? What happened to you, God? How did you get mixed up in this?
What can I tell you? Everything that’s going on now is so depressing. I had to tune out for the sake of My mental health, and that may have been taken the wrong way.
My days look different now from when I was busy inventing that thing that dew does when it gets stuck in a spider’s web and the light catches it just right. Mostly, I spend my time agonizing over who should win Super Bowls and giving people partial piggyback rides across the sand. I lurk perennially just out of range for Margaret.
I care deeply about the outcomes of football games. It matters to me that people pray in the end zone. I pay attention to that kind of thing.
Awards shows, of course, I watch intently, to make certain I am thanked. (I have a long memory for ingratitude.) I am constantly on TikTok, doing oddly specific favors for some people and threatening others, unless they engage in constant prostration. “Nice house,” I am always saying. “Nice life. Nice kid. Would be a shame if something happened to it.” Remember what I did to Job? (Allegedly.)
I am big into decor. Look for my influence on a driftwood sign between eat and love. I work hard so that influencers have blessed days. I come up with personalized plans for Drake and people who are going through rough breakups. I am always sending messages, especially around lottery-ticket purchases. I made sure Nicole Scherzinger got that Tony Award. I decided whether George Santos stayed in office. I looked out for Bob Menendez, up to a point. I told a pastor in Denver to sell some very dubious cryptocurrency.
When I’m not backseat-driving high-school football coaches’ prayers, I love to pose for John McNaughton paintings. I’m there, whispering my thoughts to Mikes (Huckabee, Johnson) and telling them I like that they’re in charge. I care if Speaker of the House Mike Johnson watches porn. I care a great deal!
I am involved in everything these days, except what matters. So many small, weird yeses to disguise the enormity of the no’s. I help out with awards, and I listen to Speaker Johnson’s concerns, and I assist with personal vanity projects, and I ignore everything else. Yes, everything. Need to send more bombs somewhere? Sure, if you think it’ll help your brand! Just don’t ask me to help out a single child or bend the arc of the universe toward justice anymore. I’m taking some time for Me now. You’re welcome, Donald Trump. Good luck with everything! So excited to collaborate on collectible Bibles with you!
The post It’s Me, God, Explaining My Involvement appeared first on The Atlantic.
