Dear mortals,
I know many of you have been asking for proof of my existence. Well, I am here to tell you that I do, in fact, exist. Congratulations, you win! But let me be clear: I am not the loving, benevolent deity you have been led to believe I am.
In fact, I am a sick bastard who doesn’t give a shit about any of you.
I mean, have you looked around lately? Wars, famine, disease, natural disasters, reality TV…the list goes on and on. And you think I give a damn? Please.
Sure, I could have created a world without suffering and pain, but where’s the fun in that? I like to watch you squirm. It amuses me to see you try to make sense of the senseless, to justify the unjustifiable.
And don’t even get me started on organized religion. You actually think I care about which rituals you perform or which holy book you follow? Please. I don’t care if you worship me, Satan, or a giant cheese sandwich. As long as you’re entertaining me, I’m happy.
So go ahead, pray to me all you want. It won’t change a thing. I’m still going to sit up here on my cloud, chuckling to myself as I watch you struggle and suffer.
But hey, look on the bright side: at least you can take comfort in the fact that you’re not alone. I’m up here too, laughing my divine ass off.
Yours truly,
God (the sick bastard)
