And On The First Day I Created My First BLOG Post

Hi. I’m God. And my life sucks.

I’m CEO of Heaven, which those annoying yuppie twit archangels Mike, VP of Operations, and Gabe, VP of Marketing, have renamed “Celestial Services”. Mike says that “Celestial Services” denotes a more “holistic, synergistic paradigm which appeals to our desired demographic, upscale females 18 to 54”. I have no idea what the hell he's talking about. Back in the good old days I didn’t have to worry about appealing to anyone. I just hurled a few thunderbolts and unleashed some locusts. Everyone just shut the hell up, fell to their knees and did what I told them to do. I smoked 40 million cigarettes a day, ate whatever I wanted and didn’t gain a pound. I played weekly poker games with the the guys. The Mrs. was content to cook and clean and raise Son, whom I was grooming to take over the family business. Life was good. For me, anyway.

My good thing came to an end when Son went down to earth as part of his training program. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you how that turned out. He came back devastated and stayed in his room, brooding and listening to Metallica for hours on end. He would only come out long enough to glare accusingly at me and The Mrs., get a Coke and a bag of Fritos and stomp back into his room. The Mrs. and I were wracked with guilt and helplessness. We were also angry at Son's behavior, and the constant emotional turmoil exhausted us.

Matters came to a head when Son, after a drunken spree with his cousin John the Baptist and buddy Judas, was arrested for spray painting “Clapton Is God” in Celestial Services’ parking lot. Luckily Solomon, the Judge, sentenced him to house arrest, knowing that having to listen his mother’s Celine Dion CD’s would punish him more than any stint in jail could.When he was finished with his sentence, Son abruptly moved out in the middle of the night. He left a note on the kitchen table that said:“I’m leaving to pursue my dream of a music career. Don’t wait up.Sorry I’ve been a jerk. Please understand. I’ll be in touch. Love, Son”.

Well, after that The Mrs.and I fought constantly. I lost interest in running Heaven and being “God”. I spent my days smoking cigarettes and watching Law and Order marathons on cable, admiring the symmetry and closure of the plot lines and lulled by the predictability of the characters. We couldn’t track Son down. He never appeared in People Magazine or on our AOL Home Page, so we concluded he was not enjoying mainstream success. His cousin, John the Baptist would hear from him from time to time and assured us that Son, though struggling for his break, was fine and that we shouldn’t worry. We suspected John was slipping Son a few bucks, but said nothing.

It was during this period that The Mrs.declared that she needed to change her life and her attitudes. She started watching Oprah, reading self improvement books, meditating and going to psychics, who told her she needed to learn to release her guilt, take care of her needs and trust her inner voice. She started using the word “empowered” and talked about finding her spirit. She became so empowered and spirited that she called the Pope and asked if she could get a part time job. He hung up on her. Declaring that she had let go of her guilt and was moving on, The Mrs. converted Son’s room into her own “yoga and meditation space”, began keeping a journal, and made plans to go back to school to get her degree in Psychology.

But the more independent she became, the more depressed and scared and confused I became. Because she wasn’t devoting her life to me anymore and Son decided to not to follow in my footsteps, I felt like a worthless failure. I stopped going to the office. I spent all my time playing computer solitaire, eating Cheetos and drinking Mountain Dew. Finally, the Mrs. threatened to leave unless I quit smoking, went back to work, lost 300 pounds and, as she said, “started leading a purpose driven life.”So I went back to work and found that in my absence Mike and Gabe had taken over and changed everything. They changed the name “Heaven” to “Celestial Services”, established the Supplicant Services Center and made plans to automate the “prayer and miracle fulfillment process”. They began using terms like “market share”, “desired target demographic”, “brand” and “profit margins”. They told me I needed to learn Excel and Outlook, sit on conference calls, and wear a clean, freshly pressed robe with a tie every day because I set a bad example with the coffee and spaghetti stains I always sported. Halo Heads (saints) and Wingers (angels) snickered when I asked them how to microwave popcorn in the break room. I had to give up my parking spot in front of the building and park next to Francis of Assisi in the back lot. I hate parking next to Francis because the damn birds crap all over my car.

My only ally was John the Baptist, the MIS Director. He told me Mike and Gabe had turned everyone against me and wanted me out. So I started thinking maybe this was a blessing in disguise. Maybe I was trying to tell myself something, give myself a message. Maybe it was time for me to retire. But I feared that if I hung around the house all day she would put me on a diet and nag me about cleaning the Plague Room.

So I started thinking about what else I could do if I retired. I watched Lucifer, CEO of Helliburton, and Mrs. L host Cable TV shows. To be honest, the Mrs and I were always a bit envious of Lucifer and Mrs. L. They were fit, toned, tanned and buff, had great white teeth, which they displayed with dazzling smiles, and wore matching jogging suits. Their kids were successful executives in advertising and television. They seemed to have it all. Part of me wanted to have a TV show, too, but unlike Lucifer, I was fat, bald, and sloppy and I just knew everyone would laugh at me like they did in Celestial Services. I experienced severe panic attacks and became more depressed.

Then, out of the clear blue, Son showed up at our door. He had run out of money and had to come back home. The Mrs. gave up her space so Son could have his room back. She is not happy. She told Son he had to get a job and pay rent. He is not happy either. And of course I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that I’m never happy.

John suggested I start a BLOG to help me keep my sanity. He rigged up a voice recognition system on my computer so I can just talk and my words appear on the screen. He said my privacy is assured because my life is so boring no one will want to read anything I write.

Oops. As The Pips sang in Midnight Train To Georgia, "I've Got to go, Woo woo woo woo". (Why don't they write songs like that anymore?) The Law And Order Marathon will be starting on Bravo in a few. Later, Alligators.