Justin: God, can I ask You a question?
God: I don’t know. Can you?
Justin: I mean, May I ask you a question?
Justin: Promise You won’t get mad.
God: Son, have you read Job 38, 1-41? Genesis Chapters 9-6? Genesis 19?
Justin: [lying]: Yeah, sure.
God: I promise not to get any angrier than I did back then.
Justin: Why did You let so much shit go down on me this week?
God: What do u mean?
Justin, Well, I got popped for egging my neighbor’s house.
Justin: Which led to my bro, Lil Za, getting busted for coke.
Justin: Then I got pulled over for drag racing doing 60 in a 35 zone. Like, I had my dad and a couple of Escalades blocking traffic so nobody would get hurt. Seems real unfair.
Justin: And then for the mug shot, the pigs wouldn’t let me put on no make-up or put on my shades, and a couple of zits show up for all the world to see.
Justin: And on top of it all off, when I got to the hotel, there were only about 30 chicks camped out there. Nothing’s gone right this week! Why did You do that?
God: Let me see. Well, first, I let Satan tempt you into egging the house to let the world know just what a pussy you are so tweens will still identify with you and buy your records.
Justin (humbled): OH!
God: I had Lil Za, like an idiot, leave the blow out in plain sight so you could bask in big boy trouble without your actually getting into serious legal trouble. So you’re still appealing to tweens and the older crowd.
Justin: (17 watt light bulb illuminating above his head): Oh.
God: Hey, look. I could have had u drag-racing out in Salinas like I did your previous incarnation James Dean, but I had u in the streets of Miami where it’s virtually impossible accelerate fast enough to receive fatal injuries. So now you’re copping pre-humous press, unlike JD, whose posthumous academy award nomination didn’t do him personally a whole lotta good. Look, compare his Porsche with your Lamborghini.
Justin (quizzical): Okay.
God: Hey, sorry about the zit, but u ain’t the only peep I’m taking care of. Some kid’s parents were praying that he make a free throw when your arrest was going down.
Justin (softly): I see, God.
God: Oh, and those chicks. I kept the numbers down so you could sleep off your hangover without a muffled roar going down outside your window.
Justin: I’m Sorry, God.
God: Don’t be sorry, just learn to Trust Me…. in All things , the Good & the bad.
Justin: I will trust You.
God: And don’t doubt that My plan for your day is Always Better than your plan.
Justin: I won’t God. And let me just tell you God, Thank You for Everything this week.
God: You’re welcome, child. It was just another day being your God, and I Love looking after My Wealthy American Children . . .