It's true: Jesus doesn't want me for a sunbeam but Target wants to sell me Sunbeam products

God and I have generally kept a safe distance from one another but recent provocative acts on his part have altered the relationship and forced me to reassess his role in my life. As a child, I quickly became suspicious of the Judeo-Christian notion of an interventionist god who hovered over me, saw all and frowned on naughty acts like lying and masturbation. I could envision a sort of new agey kind of force in the universe, kind of like that Gaia-thing with which women at anti-globalization rallies and women's studies programs seemed to have an infatuation.

But now I'm convinced that God (capital G) does exist. As some of you may be aware, things in my life have not been going particularly well. That would be an understatement. Almost every facet of my life seems to be under assault. I won't go into the details but suffice it to say that things have never been LESS better than now.

As a disclaimer, I would like to note that I accept full responsibility for my actions and note that many of my current problems are directly proportional to my own incompetence with regard to rational decision-making. Further, I fully understand that there are starving children in China that don't have enough to eat (although that old maxim is clearly losing its resonance) and I should be lucky for all the wonderful things that God has given me, such as an incredible son, several dollars worth of quarters and a blog.

I suspect that God is rubbing my nose in the dirt. I really want to know WHY but I think I already know the answer. He does it because he can, just like run-of-the-mill school yard bullies, dictators and pimps.

The catalyst that finally brought everything into place was a small but important event that happened yesterday. Taken alone, it was insignificant. But viewed in the context of my tenuous existence, it was profound. It had to do with an ATM machine that wasn't working properly and failed to relinquish $100 but still debited my account for the amount. Ultimately it was a minor event. It will all be resolved in a few days. However, it caused me to reconsider everything.

My first response upon having the act perpetrated on me was to find a quiet spot to do some primal screaming. Unfortunately, none could be found. The closest location was the men's room at my office and someone was having more serious problems than I in one of the stalls. Therefore, I did what any red-blooded American does when he needs a place to contemplate the meaning of existence--I wandered the Housewares section of Target.

As I reverently observed the sublime colors of Target's wonderful collection of casual dinnerware and the sacred geometry of its glass and aluminum side tables, it occurred to me that perhaps my circumstances weren't simply a product of my rational failings or the emotional roller coaster that regularly takes me from blissful, unrealistic expectations to dark, unrelenting resignation in a matter of hours. No, something else was surely at work here.

A lesser person than me would deflect blame from him or herself and cast it on some unsuspecting earthly force, such as people who look or act differently than themselves or an uncaring capitalistic society or even fate. Not me.

I now know that God is actually and proximately the cause of my woes. Somewhere up there God is chatting with Jesus, Moses, Muhammad and Buddha (and I'm pretty sure with L. Ron Hubbard too) about how they are going to make the little earthlings like me suffer. I just happened to get on their radar screens and, well, I think they want me to cry uncle.

It ain't gonna happen. While I acknowledge the existence of God, I refuse to bow down. Not now, not ever.

[Editor's note: Mr. Dodson reserves the right to submit to God or any of God's assigns at a moment's notice should such an act be deemed beneficial to him. Further, The Schadenfreude Post does not endorse Mr. Dodson's opinions and wholeheartedly believes that God is a benevolent supreme being.]