God Only Knows

Hello. This is God. What, you were expecting a burning bush? Too Old Testament, man. And no way to reach the 18-to-34 demographic, either. I don't know why you insist on confining Me to syrupy places like a baby's laughter, a mother's love or some sappy sunset. Why not a sports magazine? I've tried to reach you through another periodical, but you never seem to believe it's Me in the Weekly World News. Why this magazine? Well, I wanted the fleece. But as you may have heard, I also like to work in mysterious ways. Wouldn't be terribly mysterious to go on with Barbara Walters or Oprah, now would it? Besides, My book sells just fine without their help.

I usually enter with bugles blaring, rose petals falling and the choir of angels singing, but I figure you already have enough self-importance in sports, especially with Bill Parcells coaching again. So while this isn't the ideal way to reveal Myself -- you really can't appreciate how thunderous My voice is in this format -- at least it's better than appearing through Morgan Freeman in some lame Jim Carrey movie.

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