GOD RETURNS!

After I reprinted a recent e-mail from the Almighty, I was asked by a reader to find out what God's opinion was of atheists, agnostics, and witches. I wrote Him a couple of weeks ago (yes, it turns out that God is male, after all), but just received a response earlier today. The Supreme Being's reply:

"Hi Mike; sorry for taking so long to get back to you. I was on Spring break at one of our most luxurious Heavenly vacation spots: the Celestial Resort and Spa in East Paradise. Frank Sinatra was performing. I love this guy; he's mellowed a lot since coming to heaven. As Ray Charles said to me at intermission: "He's not nearly the prick he was on Earth." By the way, Brother Ray can see now. 20/20. It was the least I could do for him, once he got here. Hell, I'm not sure why I blinded him in the first place. That's the problem with being an all-powerful deity. Sometimes you just do things because you can. Let's face it, humans get the shaft when I'm moody."

"You asked about my views of atheists, agnostics, and witches. Well, of course, atheists annoy me. How would YOU feel if someone denied your existence? It's their arrogance that really rankles. How can they be so sure they're right -- especially when they're so wrong? The fact that a garden slug can't imagine the existence of Major League Baseball doesn't mean that the Major Leagues aren't real. Give me a break! We've got a few atheists up here, and you should see their faces when I show up at the orientation session, dressed in my full, flowing-white-robe regalia. They just about poop their pants! A few of them apologize to me later, but most are too embarrassed."

"Agnostics? I love 'em. They're the most open-minded group we have in heaven. A pleasure to work with. When they get here they come right up and give me a firm handshake at orientation. And they're very involved in the organized activities we offer. The last three Presidents of the Deity Debate Club have been agnostics. I guess I like them so much because they really try to use the brains I created for people. Do you realize how long it took me to perfect the human brain? Almost two years, AND I was working weekends! To go to all that trouble and then see so many individuals use virtually none of the neurons I gave them is very disappointing. It's like having the keys to a Lexus but choosing to drive a Yugo instead. A damn shame. I always figured that humans would WANT to think. But I guess the upside is that we'll always have fans for professional wrestling."

"Not sure what to say about witches. I'll be honest; I don't like competing with women for power. Never have. It makes me nervous. I'm not proud saying that, but it's true. However, I'm NOT taking the blame for those Salem witch trials. That had nothing to do with me. We've got a lot of witches up here, and most of them are OK. They're always running for elective office; two-thirds of the Heavenly Council is composed of witches."

"Time to go. I'm taking a guitar class with Jimi Hendrix, and if you're late he won't let you in the door. By the way, the Council is considering making 'Purple Haze' the Official Song of the Heavenly Afterlife. What do you think? Ciao! -- Big G"

CONDIMENTS

That's right, "condiments." Not "condom-mints," which I'll be discussing in a few weeks, when the topic will be "Has the Low-Carb Craze Gone Too Far?"

Today, our focus is on ketchup.

At dinner the other night I was squeezing a bottle of ketchup when I noticed that the label said, "TOMATO KETCHUP -- Extra Fancy."

I stared at the glob of red stuff on my plate. It didn't look the least bit fancy to me. And it certainly didn't appear to be "extra" fancy.

I removed my glasses and positioned my right eyeball as close to the plate as I could without actually getting ketchup on my cornea. Still, I didn't see anything that warranted the phrase "extra fancy."

Maybe the answer was in the ingredients. I put my glasses back on and read the label: "water, tomato paste, high fructose corn syrup, corn syrup, vinegar, salt, onion powder, spice, natural flavors."

Aha! "Natural flavors." The answer had to be there. But what might be "extra fancy" about those natural flavors? Fortunately, there was an 800 number on the label that I could call "for product questions or concerns."

So I called the number. A very pleasant woman answered. I asked her about what made the ketchup extra fancy. "It's in the natural flavors," she responded. (I knew it! I just knew that had to be it!) "Our Extra Fancy brand contains 15 grams of uncut Cambodian cocaine. It rocks! Our Fancy brand contains 5 grams, and we make our regular brand by simply hitting a beefsteak tomato with a hammer. And by the way, our Extra Fancy brand is formulated to be snorted, not taken orally."

"Natural flavors." I'll never take them for granted again.

RULE YOUR WORLD

Most Grin readers are probably aware of Stephen Covey's bestseller, "The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People." Today I learned that in 2004 he published a sequel (no joke): "The 8th Habit: From Effectiveness to Greatness."

Apparently, ol' Steve is on a roll, because I visited his website this afternoon and guess what? In 2007 he's coming out with "Habit #9: The Journey from Greatness to Kick-Ass, Butt-Stompin' Domination Over Those Pathetic Insects Who Only Know My First 8 Habits."

You gotta love this guy. He knows how to keep you buyin'.

GOD WRITES

Yesterday, "Ask Mr. Grin" received its most provocative question yet, from Toby L. (age 14) in Port St. Lucy, Florida. Toby writes, "There are so many religions out there, Mr. Grin. Which one does God belong to?"

Well, Toby, rather than try to answer that one on my own, I e-mailed your question directly to the Almighty (SupremeBeing@MasterOfTheUniverse.org). Here's the response I received:

"Dear Mr. Grin. I don't think it's fair for me to officially endorse any religion. Let people have their fun. Of course, over the years I've had my favorites. For centuries I was a big fan of the Catholic Church, until they totally mismanaged the Galileo affair in 1632. I was really embarrassed for them. And what's the deal with this papal infallibility scam? Hell, how could the Pope be infallible when I'M not? Do you have any idea how many things I've screwed up over the millennia? Doesn't anybody remember the 1958 Washington Senators? Or the 2006 New York Knicks? But I'll admit I'm a sucker for those cathedrals they built in the Middle Ages. Wow. I still drop into Notre Dame now and then, late at night. Great atmosphere. You can actually get some work done there. I'm writing you from the main altar right now."

"I also get a kick out of Judaism. An irresistible combination of lots of smart people and a healthy dose of wacky ideas. Please tell them that it's OK to eat a ham sandwich or a BLT every once in a while. To be honest, as long as people aren't eating other people, I don't care very much about what folks eat. That's their business. I'm serious. It really doesn't matter to me. I can't believe that they think I have time to worry about stuff like that."

"Islam? I feel bad for them these days. A few nut jobs ruin it for everybody. Do me a favor and let everyone know that there are NO hot virgins waiting in heaven for clowns who blow themselves up in public places. What actually happens when they arrive here is that we put their body parts in shoeboxes, label them, and then ship everything off to our Central Hell storage facility -- for ETERNITY! And get this: we provide the bomb VICTIMS with world-class (actually, heavenly class) medical care, and THEY end up being the ones who frolic with the virgins and Chippendale dancers. What a hoot!"

"As far as Buddhism goes, I hung out with some of those guys in the 60s. A very sweet bunch, good-hearted to a fault. But they spend FAR too much time mulling over the nature of existence. That's my job, not theirs, and quite frankly, I'm a lot better at it than they are. And it's NOT a full-time job, even for me. I spend, at most, maybe two or three hours a day ruminating about that stuff. Tell my Buddha buddies to go out to a ball game or take up white-water rafting or SOMETHING. I didn't go to all the trouble of creating humanity just to have people sitting around practicing their breathing. Practice is not necessary. I designed the lungs to take care of that."

"Hey, I need to go. A couple of Jehovah's Witnesses are trying to convert the new arrivals coming in at the South Entrance, and it looks like a fistfight has broken out. You gotta love the Jehovah crowd; they NEVER give up. And every once in a while they hit paydirt. You know that Pope who arrived here a while back? Well, he's one of them now. I swear, you can't make this stuff up! -- Ciao, God"

ASK MR. GRIN

With this installment of Grin we introduce an exciting new service for our loyal readers, who now number in the tens of thousands, representing 43 states, 16 foreign countries, and New Jersey. "Ask Mr. Grin" will provide answers to selected questions submitted to the Comments section. Our staff is qualified to field queries in any area except automobile repair (see previous post, "True Confessions"). We specialize in terrace gardening, romance (tragic and non-tragic), metaphysics, air conditioning systems, Spoffordshire (a small resort village on England's northern coast frequented by Croatians with mental illness), and most major diseases of the intestinal system. Here's our first question:

Dear Mr. Grin --

Which "orange" came first, the color or the fruit? -- Scottie, Age 9, Missoula, Montana

Dear Scottie --

That's an excellent question, young man! The color came first. In 1934 the Crayola Company blended their Red #21 and Yellow #7 to create the color orange. Inspired by this achievement, the Florida-based Minute Maid Corporation invented orange the fruit in 1937 by cross-breeding a Red Delicious apple with a lemon. Because of miscegenation laws that existed throughout the South at that time, the actual mating of the apples and lemons had to take place at Minute Maid's northwestern research facility in Portland, Oregon. Indeed, it was against the law to eat oranges in the South until 1962, when the Supreme Court ruled that the ban on orange consumption was unconstitutional. Quite a fascinating story! Who would have guessed that the humble orange had such an interesting history? Many thanks to Ginger, our fact checker, for researching this issue for Grin.

Keep those questions coming, folks.

TRUE CONFESSIONS

I don't understand how automobiles work.

There, I said it.

Yesterday, the service guy at the Toyota dealership tried to explain to me what the problem was with my car. The only word I recognized was "piston." I'm not saying that I UNDERSTOOD what role the piston played in the problem, but at least the word sounded familiar to me. Confession #2: I don't understand how pistons work.

I looked at Service Guy and nodded from time to time as if I comprehended his remarks. I even emitted "Uh-huh" on occasion, as if I were a therapist listening to a patient describe a crucial childhood experience. But the truth is, Service Guy could have said, "The splanger rod in the Clayborn plug has developed a de-looping problem, and that's draining energy from the mutton processor," and I still would have nodded knowingly.

Of course, there are some things about cars I do grasp. For example, I know that turning the ignition key "does something" that motivates the engine to wake up and stand at attention. But that's pretty much it. For me, "checking under the hood" of a vehicle makes about as much sense as gazing at a manuscript written in Farsi.

As a male, I am expected to understand cars. This is a cruel, sexist tradition. I am expected to care about things like horsepower and cylinders. "Have you got a 4-cylinder, Mike, or a 6, or perhaps an 8?" How in the hell am I supposed to know? And now that I think of it, what business is it of yours? That's between me and my vehicle. And what's a cylinder?

That's right, I don't understand cars. It feels good to be out of the closet.