God: (To a man on the street in front of the UN, holding an “occupy” placard) You live in a banana republic? Who would’a thunk it?
(Later that day, in an elevator inside the UN building.)
God: Nations? Nations? What are nations?
Red Ant King: Nations are organizations. Ours is the most powerfully united in the world. We’re mighty in arms and highly principled!
God: What the fuck?
Blue Ant King: WE are a real republic–those reds are commie bastard idolators.
God: Whoa! Aren’t you taking yourselves a little too seriously?
Red Ant King: He’s full of it. They are fascist motherfuckers, every one. Smite THEM and (sotto voce) let US take care of their oil shale.
Green Ant King: Fracking frackers!
God: You do your own smiting, leave me out of that bullshit. I’ve got enough to think about trying to make sense of the time signature in Beethoven’s Eroica. Unless done well, I am not into organized violence. What’d you think of that big bang? Now that was something to brag about!
Black Ant King: They’re both racist shitheads, Lord, look at what they do to your truly good people, those who worship your holy name in praise and song EVERY Sunday!
God: I do like the music. That boy, Thelonius, now he’s a gas! Miles blows like an angel! Have you noticed how slow this elevator is moving? Jesus! This could take forever! What do you call this place?
Black Ant King: This is the United Nations, Lord…mostly united white nations…
Red Ant King: Hey, we don’t segregate no more, we did that affirmative action thing or tried to an’ look what they did with that! They own the damn post office! It’s re-verse dis-crimin-ation. You’all can use the same shitters as everyone now, so just stay the fuck away from white women! Is that too much to ask?
Black Ant King: We shall overCOME, asshole and I DO mean, overCOME, get it? Or are your ears too far down inside your fat, red neck. Prick, hick, what’s the difference?
Blue Ant King: You see how they talk, Lord? No respect! Isn’t it about time for some swift justice? I know you’ll spare your friends–and you know we never hung a ni-black person ourselves, that is, directly. We never even shot one dumb drunk injun or gassed a single Jew, except the Rosenbergs, which was an unfortunate mistake and look, we even gave ’em Palestine after the war…of course, they can live anywhere they want now, well, there was a problem in La Jolla, of course, and Ford and Rockefeller and the RCA boys payin’ Hitler was admittedly counter-intuitive but it was complicated. The Hamptons? No one wants to live there anymore–the place is full of disgusting pop musicians. But they got ALL of Florida–on the Atlantic side, for a while, of course.
Red Ant King: Save it for the radio, neocorn. Don’t listen to him anyway, Lord. They break every one of your laws every way they can when they think you’re not looking! They PRINT that fraudulent fiat money! In your holy name…put your name on their worthless script! Look here at this! “In God we trust!” Now, what’s that supposed to mean? One nation under god my ass!
Black Ant King: Who are you to talk, hypocrite! You sent guns to Nicaragua, you guys put bin Laden, Saddam Hussein, Gaddafy and that Syrian creep in business, you poison young black men with coke, smack and meth and you burned up all those poor souls at Waco! What the hell’s wrong with you?
God: Shut up! All of you!
Black Ant King: But…
God: Stuff it! I don’t give a damn, just shut the fuck up! (peal of thunder rolls.) You give me a headache with your bickering. You people can all marry each other now, so get on with it and have makeup sex afterwards. Just, stop it with all the complaints! Look, I understand you’ve got some issues to work through and I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do…
Black Ant King: Praise the Lord! Tell us, please tell us! Tell us what you want us to do!
All: Yes, Lord, all we want is to be your faithful servant, etc.
God: All you want? Yeah, I bet. Well, let’s see how that works out, maybe we are on the same page, that’ll be a first…so, here’s the deal, gentlemen (and I know you ladies are hanging around hiding behind the curtains, pretending it’s none of your doing)…so listen up, here’s the deal: To begin with, I ain’t doing a damn thing. Nothing. That’s right, you heard me, nothing. Not one skinny iota of any kind of involvement in your affairs, not in any way, shape or form, as you say. (God pauses–for a change, there is complete silence.) That’s right, you heard me. Awesome? Tell me are you finally awe struck? Well that’s good. I’ve discussed this with my, my, you know–my beatch…
Red Ant King: You mean there’s a Mrs. God?
Green Ant King: You’re such a sexist little prick…
God: It’s none of your business but haven’t you noticed your God is asexual.
Red Ant King: But–but this seems very important…who…who is your, your…
God: My Beatch? No, that’s not important to you because you are on your own. God ain’t smiting. God ain’t helping. God ain’t blessing one fat little cherub or damning one scheming bastard criminal. God ain’t caring one fat rat’s ass what you boys and girls are up to or down for. The way I see it, you got a perfectly good planet, which I recall giving you in nifty order. Nice place–took three maybe four billion years to grow all that shit and now you’re fucking it up like it don’t mean squat to you, so bad, so fast, I doubt you’ll even be around next time I come by. Sad, ain’t it? I’d lay odds on it but what’s the point? You dudes won’t be around to pay off. Heh heh. Time’s a bitch, isn’t it?
Red Ant King: What? What do you mean?
Black Ant King: What about Britain?
Green Ant King: What about the rainforests…and Carnivál?
Blue Ant King: Fuck all! What about Paris? What about your chosen people? What about them?
God: What the hell, they got the bomb over there, didn’t they? I’d like to do something about Paris but I don’t see…no, sorry, all bets are off.
Black Ant King: This is not fair. Do you realize how much shit we have taken for how long, all the time, believing in the name of God–in YOUR name!
God: It’s not about names, boy.
Black Ant King: Boy? Boy!
God: Have you not learned anything by observing the Lutherans? God isn’t a brand. Notice, no t-shirt here? I’m not a fucking brand. Now, the old guy in the Vatican, that is branding…did you know the name, Vatican, is Etruscan?
Red Ant King: What’re we gonna tell people?
Black Ant King: Boy!!
Blue Ant King: Same lies you always told them, idiot. What’s the difference?
God: That’s the spirit. Ride the horse ‘til it’s dead!
Blue Ant King: That’s not really what I meant.
God: Then what the fuck did you mean?
Black Ant King: It’s not fair! We’re not running things! It’s them! They’re fucking stuff up, not us! They’ve always been fucking stuff up! Them and the Chinese.
God: Lookee there in Nigeria, monsieur. Take a look at Colombia, Rio. Whose are those starving children there in Somalia. Isn’t that a black dude poaching those rhinos. About those men buying and selling their neighbors in Darfur… Don’t forget your Hindu cousins either–building 15 new reactors this year. You’re all equally repulsive or is repugnant the right word.
Blue Ant King: What good ‘s it going to do if you leave?
God: Is there a competition?
Red Ant King: You can’t bail on us now! Without warning!
God: What would you consider to be a warning, asshole? How about Katrina? Or that tsunami that fucked up Fukushima? Hell’s bells, around the planet, you dumb bells are building fifty new nuclear power plants and half a dozen new dams, your scraping the last fish out of the sea and pumping half the cretaceous era into the atmosphere. Biological life is out of style here and I just don’t groove with kilobytes. Can you cats not dig that?
Green Ant King: We have tried so hard, God.
Black Ant King: Don’t you even care about us?
Red Ant King: I was taught that God is love.
God: You know, I really do care and that’s why it’s time you figure it out!
Black Ant King: Is there nothing we can do to make you want to stay?
God: Don’t do that, you know I love the blues. Honestly, you wanna know what amuses me most about you suckers? It’s the thing that fucks you up everytime. You are the quintessentially perfect and singularly unique manifestation of arrogance in any imaginable universe. Temptation of fate is DNA. It’s been the secret of your success. Nowhere in this infinite universe is there another example and it’s so risky that it’s unlikely that it could exist anywhere for long in any form! It’s an absolutely irresistible invitation to evolution and this is a universe which knows no absolutes so that’s not small change. You’re beautifully, irresistibly arrogant. Arrogance is the very nature of beauty, isn’t it? It amazes me that you survived this long… Well, it appears your technology is about to end that. Too bad. You’ve been a rare source of amusement…I will miss that when you’re gone.
Red Ant King: What did you say?
Black Ant King: God said, “when you’re gone”, motherfucker. Listen up.
Red Ant King: What do you mean? I thought you kinda took Judgment Day off the table.
God: I’m sorry. Did I not make something perfectly clear again? You’re always accusing me of being ambiguous. I’m tired of hearing that.
Red Ant King: What did you mean by, “when you’re gone”. You said you are going to miss us when we’re gone. Gone when? Gone where?
God: I love that song. (sings) “After you’ve gone and left me crying, after you’ve gone and no denying, you’ll feel blue, you’ll feel sad, you’ll miss the best pal you ever had…”
Red Ant King: That’s NOT funny!
God: I’m sorry…Look, isn’t it time you got your shit TOGETHER? And, (to Black Ant King) I DO mean, TOGETHER, homey.
Black Ant King: What am I supposed to do with these morons running things?
God: Takes two to tango and you put up with it because some among you are playin’ the game, selling brothers and sisters out…
Black Ant King: The flesh is weak…
God: So they say. Hey, listen, fellas, you’re a great bunch of guys and I’d like to stay forever, you know, and I love the ladies hiding in the wings, and it’s been great catching up but I really have to go now. (What is it with this slow fucking elevator?) You know, fellas, there’s an infinite universe out there, exponentially expanding even as we speak, so…I wish you lots of luck and I really do mean it, too. I hope it works out for you…to be honest I don’t have much hope for you given your habit of irresponsibility and you’re always blaming someone or something or even me, heaven knows, everytime you fall on your ass or win the lottery but who knows, maybe you’ll wake up. I doubt it but if I’ve learned one thing from you over the years, it’s that you never can tell…
Red Ant King: (stunned) What about Judgment Day…?
God: Don’t you fucking listen? Clue him in, will you, please? Look, for the last time, the answer is, NO! Not on my watch! “Judge not lest ye shall be judged” (or something like that). Works for me. Always has. Everything you think is in my hands, well, it’s not. It’s questionable that it ever was. It’s all in YOUR hands. Period. End of story. Get over it. Bye, now. If you see Marsalis, tell him to keep it up. Tell him I’ve got my eye on him for a thing I’m putting together with Eddie Kantor, Gene Wilder and Ella. No hurry though, this guy, Winn, is still working on the book and it seems to be taking him a lifetime, literally. But, you know how I am. I’m never in a hurry. Can you imagine, God, stuck in an elevator in the UN building with a bunch of politicians? Great idea for a movie, right? Hah! Never say never! Adios, muchachos! See you around…if you believe, heh heh. Hasta la byebye.
Puff of white smoke and he’s gone.