Your Favorite Columnist’s annual chat with God

An annual conversation between Your Favorite Columnist and God that has been going on for more than a quarter century.

YFC: Yo, God! It’s Stu! Where are you?

God: Sshhhh. I’m over here, in the workshop. I’m wrapping my secret Santa gift.

YFC: Nice robe. You celebrate Christmas?

God: Of course I do. Christmas, Hanukkah, Eid, Groundhog Day, the whole shmay. The robe is Egyptian cotton. My friend Moses got it for me. He was my secret Santa.

YFC: Who is your the gift for?

God: Buddha. Sweet guy. I got him a BowFlex Max Trainer. He’s a little on the heavy side.

YFC: You’re not fat shaming, are you?

God: Me? Buddha? Not a chance, but that Pritzker guy. . .

YFC: The governor of Illinois?

God: That’s the one. The obese billionaire with strange ideas.

YFC: Such as?

God: He thinks he can close all the jails, and can be President.

YFC: Some people think he can.

God: “Some people” don’t control destiny, Sonny. (God winks)

YFC: Please don’t call me “Sonny.” We’ve been through this before. And I thought you didn’t meddle in politics.

God: I didn’t, and Trump got elected. Oy.

YFC: You don’t approve of Trump?

God: Is the Pope a Cubs fan?

YFC: Speaking of baseball, which team do you root for?

God: All of them, but I have special affection for the Angels and Padres. By the way, WTF kind of name is the Guardians, in Cleveland?

YFC: It replaced “Indians,” which some people thought was racist.

God: But Indians call themselves Indians.

YFC: Don’t ask me, you’re the all-knowing.

God: Sorry, kiddo. The Woke try the patience of a saint. They can’t even call a Christmas tree a Christmas tree. It becomes a “holiday” tree. What holiday do they think — Arbor Day? You want to talk world affairs?

YFC: Not really.

God: So the Gaza truce is holding, fingers crossed; Thailand’s bombing Cambodia; Russia’s still trying to swallow Ukraine; Canada’s ready to close its border with the U.S.; Rwanda’s killing Congo civilians; Taiwan is nervous as a tick about an invasion by China . . .

YFC: Hey, the Phillies signed Schwarber.

God: Oh, you want to talk sports.

YFC: The Eagles won the Super Bowl!

God: You’re welcome.

YFC: Did you do that?

God: I don’t want to brag. Vanity is a sin.

YFC: And this year, who wins?

God: I am not allowed to say.

YFC: You are God! Who can tell you what to do?

God: The missus. She’s a terror, I tell you!

YFC: You are married?

God: What’s so strange about that? You think I wash this robe myself?

YFC: That’s kind of sexist, but I never really thought about it. OK. Let’s talk about humanity. How are we doing?

God: More mixed than a frittata. There’s a lot of good people out there, but a lot of bad, too. As you know, I am infallible, but that free will thing, I wish I could have that one back.

YFC: Umm, God?

God: What?

YFC: Like, uh, you are God! You can change anything. Can’t you just snap your fingers, or whatever?

God: Yes, but no one likes a flip-flopper. 

YFC: How about the Oscars moving from ABC to You Tube?

God: What a genius segue! #OscarsSoWhite. Remember that? I prefer the Golden Globes, where they’re all half drunk and half out of their clothes. Remember when Ricky Gervais hosted? He cut those Hollywood stiffs a new ayehole. Speaking of that, I heard you’re in the Epstein files.

YFC: What? That’s a terrible lie!

God: But I saw it on the Internet. (Giggling) 

YFC: Did you bother to fact-check it on ChatGPT? (Laughing) You’re as funny as a bike lane.

God: What a pain in the tuchas they are. Definitely from the Prince of Darkness.

YFC: You mean Satan?

God: Yeah, but he just changed his name.

YFC: To what?

God: Stephen A. Smith.

YFC: Hey! Leave him alone. He’s a fellow Bronx boy. Some people think he will run for President.

God: Well, he’ll never need a P.A. system. Amyway, it’s getting late. I don’t want to miss Happy Hour.

YFC: You drink?

God: You think I’d give you beer and wine and not drink? How much time do you spend at Cracker Barrel?

YFC: Not much, but I’d like to spend a lot of time with Sydney Sweeney.

God: I’ll tell Santa. Don’t hold your breath.

YFC: See you next year.

God: You should live so long. 

YFC: (All nervous) What?

God: Don’t sweat it, Sonny. Just pulling your chain.