14. An Interview with The Creator

Detail of "DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR"
A meerschaum pipe. The workers are 1/2" (1.3 cm) tall

AN INTERVIEW WITH THE CREATOR

ARTY> Well, Yahweh, Thank you for taking time away from your busy schedule to come to 20/20 hindsite to talk about your work in creating this very impressive universe and of course your greatest creation, we humans. It is Yahweh, isn't it?

YAHWEH> Yeah, well, call me God for short. It's easier. Did you know the word "religion" used to mean your life, what you did every day, but it's been separated from that. As for my busy schedule? Don't you know I'm resting? You should too. I built this universe to enjoy it. I'm a process person. I don't create things, I build whole systems and then take pleasure in watching them all work. The real joy comes when something nice happens quite by accident. I was at Earth the other day and I met a Duck Billed Platypus. I loved the little guy and I could never have come up with his species on purpose. Well, maybe if I had a bunch of left over body parts from experimental animals that never made it into production and I threw them together for a joke but he seemed to be doin' OK and it sure was a treat spending a few minutes with 'im.

ARTY> Then you must be thrilled to spend time with a member of that sub species you created in your own image? White skinned Americans?

GOD> Y' know, I spent prob'ly... 10 minutes with that little platypus and I'm more bored with you in two minutes than I was with him in ten. Take a hint. I built a universe where there's fantastic fireworks goin' off ALL the time. I LOVE fireworks! It takes a lot to impress me. To listen to humans bragg about how great they are, well, I've heard it all before. From species you have nothing but contempt for! And I got news for you, they feel the same way about you and they've at least had enough respect for my work to leave it the way they found it. In fact, if ya' gotta know, I put you in charge of the most beautiful planet in the universe but you humans are the Milky Way's WORST, absolutely WORST stewards. And neighbors. God, you're rotten neighbors. Everybody has ta make room for you. And as bad as the species is, you born again Americans are like the people next door who drink and fight and mess with your stuff and you're afraid to speak up 'cuz you know it'll cost you. You know people like that.

ARTY> nods agreement

GOD> Well, they want to say they're being like me but really, they're bein' more like my eldest son. You know the story, I had two sons and they were 180º apart. One wanted to control everything for his own pleasure and one who loved just tending the human beings I had started there in that most beautiful little blue planet. Oh! I lavished so much TLC on that planet. Can't you tell? This was my little get away from the workaday world of creating the systems and processes that drive the universe. The grunt work of creation. I could come here and spend as much time as I wanted planting my best work and watching it develope. I was a molecular physicist working in a microscopic world while at the same time building planets, stars, galaxies. I gotta lotta time and effort in the earth and frankly it's more more than a little irritating to come here and see such widespread destruction.

What I see here is the work of my eldest son, Stan. Well, you add an a but whatever. He's my oldest and he's been nothing but trouble from the beginning. Of course, as a parent I blame myself. The two sons split my traits. My older son took that much of me that made him the control freak who thinks he's better 'n me and has been trying to push me aside ever since forever. I mean, I'm the guy with all the sweat equity in this universe and my eldest thinks he owns it. Did you know he once tried to offer part of it to his brother as a bribe?

ARTY> What about your younger son? Jesus Christ?

GOD> My other son Mike is Mr. Humility. Think about it. He's the son of the creator, could be doin' anything in the universe but he takes an interest in this tiny family of nomadic shepherds that I had a thing with living in a desert on Earth . Long story. By the way, Christ is a title given after the fact. Listen, this guy is so humble that he CHOSE to be born human in a barn in the boondocks of a raggedy little nation that had a special relationship with me. I picked THEM, not the other way round, f'r cryin' out loud.

They proved t' be so fickle that they were trying my patience. Besides, they started out as what, a dozen families and they were down to two or three by the time Herod's temple was finally torn down, also thereby, incidently, destroying all written records of who's really a Jew. Not exactly a stellar record for my chosen people. I blame Stan. He's got a crowd of bad eggs around him that just hafta make trouble. When Mike wanted to relieve a little bit of tension on planet Earth ol' Stan just couldn't stay out of it.

But Number Two Son, Stan's worst enemy (he thinks), said he wanted to fix what was broken with that little dysfunctional family down there in Asia Minor . He said sumpthin' about "Pottery Barn Rules". Frankly, I think he's taken this humility thing a bit far. He can't blame himself for their problems. He volunteered to be their Messiah, knowing all the build up and prophesies he'd hafta fulfill and the kinda death he'd undergo during that time in history. Frankly, I was ready to hand my Chosen People off to someone else.

Course, he has spent real time with 'em and I was only here when I had to get away from the day to day grunt work. I have to admit there are things I coulda' done different but hey, you only create a universe once and frankly the want's n' needs of a fickle few on that otherwise idyllic planet... It's Stan's work packaged as Jesus'.

ARTY> So. You're saying that the battle that rages here on Earth involving your Chosen People is really just the result of a sibling rivalry.

GOD> Well, yes and no. Remember Jesus thought small. Do you remember when he told people to put themselves last? Well, the day came when he had to walk the walk and put himself up for execution by torture to save someone else. Barabbas was the man who walked away because Jesus committed suicide by police that day to free him. So it all came down to puttin' up or shuttin' up. He knew it goin' in, as Michael, before he ever made the transition to Human. Yet he did it anyway. It had to be done that day to save Barabbas and he picked the one way that was sure to do it. He attacked the profiteers in the Temple. I can still picture him summoning all that power with a whip in 'is hand.

Oh, I do like fireworks! That was quite a show! The hated profiteers n' their partners the priestly class got what for that day! That was the only time he ever had a temper tantrum like that, and when he did he picked on the one thing that, as a peasant kid growin' up then an' there, annoyed him most.

But he had to go. He couldn't bust up a racket like that, even though everyone knew it was a scam. I mean, by the time Mike, as Jesus made his move Passover was in full swing. There was a long line to get the required sacrifice at the Temple and it had long been common knowledge that the same animals were sold for sacrifice over and over. The temple currency was undervalued and you had to pay for that required sacrifice at highly inflated rates. "Money changers!" Ha! Nowadays you call the ones with their hands extended, palms up, evangelists. Pharisee means "bookmen". Mike had no time for 'em. Everyone knows that. Mike reminded that tattered little remnant of Solomon's great nation that my relationship with them was a freebie and to be cashing in on it was not just a sin but it really, shall we say, pisses him off. And they do it in my name, no less! No, they're workin' for Stan.

ARTY> Jesus has given up?

GOD> No. He's older and wiser now. That was a joke. He doesn't change. He replaced my casual, on again, off again approach to human herding with a pure hands on, retail compassion as he likes to call it. Since it's no longer possible to prove that someone's a direct descendent of Abraham any more he treats everyone as if they are. He's like the really good officer in the Civil War who moved his men toward the sound of firing. He still thinks small, still feels he has to put up or shut up. Now you can find him in soup kitchens and shelters. For some reason he's bound to help humans, who, if you look at it from a cosmic perspective, are like a virus that has infested my favorite planet with an infection that has already caused a great extinction. I mean, I know that little platypus fellow wasn't much in the pig picture but I liked him. I'd like to know his offspring are still alive next time I stop in for a visit.

I want to say something else about Michael while I'm here. He is what he is because of things that happened eons ago. For him to watch pharisees and eva.... There is a strain of humanity that wraps itself in little bits of him and demands to be paid well for what they received as a gift. Can you imagine him hanging on that cross, every breath an agony, thinking "Boy, this is going to sell a lot of T shirts someday."

ARTY> Well God, I won't take anymore of your time. I want to thank you on behalf of all white Americans for making us your new Chosen People.

GOD> Wait a minute, pal, Your pointy hat must be covering a pointy head. You'll have to schedule another interview to deal with that issue and a few others we haven't even gotten to yet. Meanwhile, I gotta go see a certain platypus.