Oh God! I knew it!

Every now and then you come across a pseudo intellectual who wants to know if you believe in a “god”. And he wants you to say you do. Because he wants to look at you like one looks at a one-legged puppy, pat your back, then smirk and let out that little “ppfft” and then go on to gingerly sip his scotch, which really is water.

So what do you do? You humour him. You tell him you do believe in a god. Or one of the many that revolve around our planet, or whatever it is that they do. You may even go so far as to say your god is the best and he’s whack (and other words kids use these days).

Which will predictably be followed by “So where is your god? Can you see him? Can you hear him? Can you touch him? What proof do you have that he even exists? What’s the logic?” He then goes on to lean back on his chair without a back-rest, sipping scotch from the now empty glass of water, waiting for you to dwell on his wise words.

And like always, you have nothing to say. You murmer something about judgement day and “I’ll be back” and “cybernetic organisms – living tissue over metal” only to realise you’re thinking about a movie that most certainly didn’t star god.

Now I’m no selfless devotee. I’m neither a devotee, nor selfless really. And I certainly won’t burn the man to the ground, simply because he could be very much right. However if the time really does come, this judgment day, when we’re judged for our sins (not when the machines take over the world), the fast food we’ve hogged and the women we’ve lusted for, I know I can raise my hand and say “me, me…I believed in you!”. And then be escorted down the red carpet entrance of the pearly gates of heaven, past the non-believers, rapists and Bieber fans.
It’s only logical really. Heard the scotch’s great there too.