Just for a laugh

[lsemmens]

God said: "Frank, you know all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there on the planet? What happened to the dandelions, violets, milkweeds and stuff I started eons ago? I had a perfect no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought and multiply with abandon. The nectar from the long-lasting blossoms attracts butterflies, honey bees and flocks of songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colors by now. But, all I see are these green rectangles."

St. FRANCIS:

It's the tribes that settled there, Lord. The Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers 'weeds' and went to great lengths to kill them and replace them with grass.

GOD:

Grass? But, it's so boring. It's not colorful. It doesn't attract butterflies, birds and bees; only grubs and sod worms. It's sensitive to temperatures. Do these Suburbanites really want all that grass growing there?

ST. FRANCIS:

Apparently so, Lord. They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green. They begin each spring by fertilizing grass and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the lawn.

GOD:

The spring rains and warm weather probably make grass grow really fast. That must make the Suburbanites happy.

ST. FRANCIS:

Apparently not, Lord. As soon as it grows a little, they cut it-sometimes twice a week.

GOD:

They cut it? Do they then bale it like hay?

ST. FRANCIS:

Not exactly, Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags.

GOD:

They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?

ST. FRANCIS:

No, Sir, just the opposite. They pay to throw it away.

GOD:

Now, let me get this straight. They fertilize grass so it will grow. And, when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it away?

ST. FRANCIS:

Yes, Sir.

GOD:

These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of work.

ST. FRANCIS:

You aren't going to believe this, Lord. When the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it, so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it.

GOD:

What nonsense. At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn, they fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the trees and bushes. It's a natural cycle of life.

ST. FRANCIS:

You better sit down, Lord. The Suburbanites have drawn a new circle. As soon as the leaves fall, they rake them into great piles and pay to have them hauled away.

GOD:

No!? What do they do to protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter to keep the soil moist and loose?

ST. FRANCIS:

After throwing away the leaves, they go out and buy something which they call mulch.. They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves.

GOD:

And where do they get this mulch?

ST. FRANCIS:

They cut down trees and grind them up to make the mulch.

GOD:

Enough! I don't want to think about this anymore. St. Catherine, you're in charge of the arts. What movie have you scheduled for us tonight?

ST. CATHERINE:

'Dumb and Dumber', Lord. It's a story about....

GOD:

Never mind, I think I just heard the whole story from St. Francis . .

[Portreve]

Ghost of Christopher Hitchens: [clears his throat]

God: Yes, Chris?

GoCH: Hey, God, so you're evidently real in this hypothetical scenario.

God: Yes. Yes I am.

GoCH: I see. So, am I then to infer from your existence that you are as has generally been described: an all-powerful being?

God: That is correct.

GoCH: The creator of the universe?

God: Yes, that is also correct. Why do you ask?

GoCH: I was sitting here pondering your interchange with St. Francis.

God: You have something sensible to add?

GoCH: Indeed I do, sir. Chiefly, I was contemplating your ex post facto lament about grass being boring and only attracting lesser forms. You are the one who built this reality, after all.

God: Yes.

GoCH: You're the one who engineered all the rules and infrastructure and underpinnings which undergird the initial conditions from which sprung the universe with which I and the entire rest of the species I was once a manifest part of are familiar.

God: Go on.

GoCH: Given that, why did you make grass boring? You could, I suppose, have made the grass purple polka-dot with plaid stripes and have it play something from John Phillip Sousa's repertoire any time someone tread upon it. Alternatively, you could simply have made butterflies, honey bees, and flocks of songbirds inherently interested in grass, and given it the capacity to produce that nectar, and in the process saved the entire complexity argument in the first place.

God: ...

GoCH: Now, with respect to many who are a part of my species, I will grant you there are a considerable number of whom who have ill-spent the mental capacity with which it would seem that you have gifted them, producing this absurd cycle of "fertilize - water - grow - cut - bag - pay-to-have-hauled-away".

God: I should think that is eminently obvious.

GoCH: And while we're about the subject, have you seen some of the choices certain groups of my fellow members of humanity have made lately? Given this is a public, technology-related message board, even though we are tap-dancing around the subject of religion, I will obviously not invade the area of politics...

God: Fair enough.

GoCH: But you see my point.

God: Indeed.

God: ...

God: St. Catherine, cancel the movie. Fetch forth two glasses of the finest brandy, and me my Book of Reality along with a pen. I have some, um... editing... to do.

[HaveaMint]

lol

[Plons]

But, says Man, the Babel fish is a dead giveaway, isn't it?

[Portreve]

But, says Man, the Babel fish is a dead giveaway, isn't it?

I so totally want to high-five you for this post.

[vladtepes]

But, says Man, the Babel fish is a dead giveaway, isn't it?