Meet The Maker

Since I've been a bit light on the posts lately and haven't even had the chance to sort out my holiday photos, I thought I'd take advantage of my back catalogue of Albert's stories to give all of you something to read until I get my butt into gear (and my laptop fixed...it's with the guru guy and should be back in a few days). So, enjoy the lastest guest writer's offerings...

When I was but a miniaturised version of what I am today, though far more opinionated, with ample reserves of impatience always at my disposal, and being too outspoken for my own good, my grandma strongly urged me to seek, and be close to God. And I won’t deny that while I still retained the eagerness of youth, and imagining the kind of gifts an all-powerful “God” could throw my way, if only I could get his attention, and appeal to his benevolent side. Alas, for a great creative artist God turned out to be, with all the poor listening skills and attention span to go along with such vocation. My incessant prayers night after impatiently agonising night fell on deaf albeit divine ears.

Speaking to my good friend Zazoum (my wise alter ego), he reassured me that there are a host of recreational supplements at one’s disposal that can help make God far more accessible than previously presumed possible. I followed my friend’s sagely advice, and for quite sometime I developed quite a close relationship with the now late God …Yes God is dead. He was very old by the time I met him, and contrary to popular belief, he was created in the image of man, and as such he was not immune from dying any more than he was immune from foul temper, rash decisions, and over-consumption of alcohol. It was not for nothing that he taught his son Jesus to turn water into wine. It was because he needed a lot of the stuff, and most of the time he was too drunk to do it himself.

And to finally put an end to another misconception – Yes, God is (or was) a man! For all the New-age folks out there who have been labouring under the false impression that God is a woman, or that he might be some sort of curious mutation encompassing, thus transcending all genders and species, that is a whole hip of moronic refuse. God is a man, and now a dead man, and that, as they say, is that!

I once even caught a glimpse of him naked in the change room of the gym, and by George he’s got all the right equipment of a man. Who knows, he might have granted himself the male anatomical parts for shear posterity. “Let there be some serious goolies!!”, he might have commanded rather authoritatively, in almost a godlike voice, “and thus it came to pass”.

He may have been omnipotent, but it turned out that he was grappling with some major, shall we say, psychological shit. His omnipotence would cause one to think that God would, by definition be the essence of the supernatural, but nothing could be further from the truth. He epitomised nature in its most basic form, real nature, stripped of all sentiment, rhapsodic as a cold sore, romantic as a yeast infection, yet, paradoxically godly in nature.

In the winter years of his life, I got pretty close to the old guy. So much so that I thought he was bound to leave me something in his will. Some minor omnipotent powers perhaps, such as the ability to levitate in mid-air, or make my eyes light up with all sorts of luminescent colours. Perhaps even the ability to urinate some fine vintage wine of an excellent year on demand. But, alas, no such powers were to be bestowed upon me. Our Rabbi Chucklestein, however, did manage to receive some special powers. To give the reader some background, the Rabbi was always sweetly dangerous with the ladies, even at his ripe old age. Now, however, if the Rabbi enters a room where many young, and not so young ladies are congregating, invariably they would all burst into a spontaneous orgasmic combustion simply by being in the same room as he.

And how does the Rabbi feel about having such powers?? Quite beside himself at dawning sense of this unbelievable luck. Frankly the Rabbi does get tempted to have his ass kissed. Tempted to be their god. But Rabbi Chucklestein is bigger than all of this, he would rather settle for a generous donation to his favourite charity (namely his Swiss bank account).

The deep seeded archaic remnants that underlies man’s need to create god is well understood, but why would God choose to transform himself into a man, to live like a man, and to finally die like a man will forever remain a mystery.