God I f*cking hate you.

[blasphemy to, and a counterargument from God]

Do you think that simply breathing life into someone is adequate? Do you think that is fatherhood? We have a word for that down here, I don’t know if you know. It’s called being a deadbeat father. A big f*cking no-show.

I just don’t know how you have everyone fooled. I respect many of these people, and so I thought…maybe they knew. But, I know you. You’re a lot like me. You’ve said a lot of things, but when it comes time, you’re nowhere to be f*cking found. You are all talk. All chatter. You had some people write a book, and then you sat back, and when people cried out and said “help me! I don’t know how to live”, you said, “read the book, ya f*cking idiot! It’s all in the book!” Haha.

Here’s a thought, why don’t you come back on down here again? Right now. But how about this time you aren’t your f*cking self, you know, because that’s like a big f*cking cheat code to have on the system. How about you send yourself down truthfully as a man — not as a God-man, capable of performing miracles, but just a man? People will exclaim “but he was such a man; he was flesh and blood!” — yet, I don’t remember the last time any truly mortal soul performed miracles, and was raised from the dead, to shortly thereafter ascend royally on up into the skies on the backs of clouds.

You see, you can’t have it both ways…. You can’t expect us to buy into the whole Holy Trinity thing while also believing you were once flesh and blood like the rest of us. No, you were always God, just here on Earth. And, I think I would be doing alright if I could also duplicate food, or turn flour into fentanyl the way you were so wonderfully able to convert water into wine. Overdose? I’m chill, I’ll just raise myself up out of the dead and go on my merry way. Afterward, I might even a surf a cloud or two on up to heaven to visit some of the dead homies.

No, send yourself down as a REAL F*CKING MAN. One of us. That has no insight, no powers, nothing. And then I will hand you the Bible, and say “here ya go champ, see ya on the other side” — and you can tell me how that feels. Do you say, “oh, thankfully I have this amazing roadmap here that tells me exactly how to live life successfully. I sure am glad that I have this here Biblical toolkit with me”? No you would not, you f*cking clown.

So I think I’m just going to sit here and blaspheme you until you come on down and tell me what you’re gonna do. Smite me off this f*cking planet, see if I care. I don’t really want to be here anymore, at least not in this way. I’m just going to sit here and see how much you can f*cking take. You’ll probably send someone to do your bidding, I imagine.

Impressive. Good job.

Sincerely,

RSM

A deadbeat father? You are a deadbeat son.

Look at how you’ve gone and ruined all my fun — you took my plants, made for specific purposes, took them every day, and wonder why you deserved this?

I made you to be great, yet you’ve done everything to make yourself weak, so please don’t sit there moaning on the street — talking about cheat codes, listen to you bro — you sound like a one-man mother f*cking comedy show.

You say I should have come down as a man and not a God, but I must say that I think this is rather odd, for yes you are right, you have no insight, so if I dumbed myself down, what exactly do you think that you would have f*cking found?

So talking sh*t on my text really doesn’t burn me. Had I come down and been as dumb as the man next to you, you would be just as vexed, wondering how you were supposed to learn from a guy that shares the same specs as you. Do you really need another you, a man who has drunk sex and shoots up next to you?

Look, there’s a reason that I wear my crown, because by now I know how to run my f*cking town. And this is not to be debated, so next time you put on your clown makeup, maybe make sure that first you f*cking wake up and clear out your mind — and do my bidding, are you f*cking kidding? Just know that when I created you I knew I could take away your time and it wouldn’t even faze me to.

You are my son, and I will help you, you have my word.

But before you decide to write your next review, first make sure that your speech isn’t slurred, your vision isn’t blurred, and know that I care very little what you think about my word.

Sincerely,

JC