the Godfather, part Q

Friends, I didn't sleep hardly a wink last night – which is a good thing, considering that if I had, the eye that stayed open all night long would be might bloodshot by dawn.

Yesterday I found out I was gonna be a godfather. Holy moley. It was like waking up next to your wife knowing that it wasn't all just a wonderful dream after all.

If you think this is gonna be a mafia post, you're dead wrong (tee-hee)

So I wikipedia'd godparents and found that they are responsible for the child's religious well being. Since I'm here, writing this, you know what that means…


I'm gonna instruct my godson in the ways of the First Church of Common Sense!

Milo," he'll ask (kids for some reason are incapable of calling me Michael) "What's God?"

"Ice cream," I'll reply, knowing that any kid young enough to not be able to say my name right really wouldn't be able to sit through my lecture of probability and comparative theology, and that ice cream would make a great distraction.

Five years later, my Godson is in grade school.

Kid, I'd say.

Yeah? He'd ask.

Keep your shoes tied. I'd reply.

Ok, he'd say and then ask, Mortimer (which would amuse the blipeepers out of me) what's God?

And I'd say, "some say he created the universe, some say he created the internet. Some say he died for our sins, some say he died in a plane crash near storm lake, Iowa. Some say he's not a he but an it, them or she. I say it's time for ice cream, what do you say? I won't tell you mom.


Five or so years later he's a sullen teenager

Pay your taxes, I'd say.

Whatever. Would be the reply I'd get.



Pause.

Myque, he'd ask (way too cool to call the 40-something me Mortimer) what's God?

I dunno. I'd say. You want Ice cream?

that's for kids. He'd say.

"Right. "

Five or so more years he's an adult, or at least mostly done with college

You pay your taxes? I'd ask.

Yep, and I saw the dentist last week too. He'd respond.

Good man. I'd say.

For the final time he'd ask "Q, what's God"

Do you have any thoughts? I'd ask.

A couple, he'd reply.

"What'd you say we talk about them over a bit of ice cream?"

"I'd like that."

And my work would be complete… at least until I found out that he had a moral delimma stemming from the fact that God; a Sweet, Flavored, Frozen Dessert, came from the most evil of Beasts, the unholy Cow.


The First Church of Common Sense: Using distraction to avoid making big statements about theology and therefore hopefully promoting independent thought since 2005!