Dear Mr. God Person Sir.

I know you exist. Without a doubt. I’ve done my time studying statistics and the probability that everything would fall into place for such a complex life-form as man and his ecological support system by chance is as minute as England winning the next World Cup. Or anything. Ever.

It's your character that has me worried. You, my friend, have some serious issues.  First of all, how you treat your friends-I mean really your manners! You'd think you were born in a barn (!). When somebody provides me with excellent service I give him or her a generous tip and thank them. I don't have them flayed alive, burned alive, boiled alive in oil or fed to lions. I mean, yes I’m sure they’re all enjoying their 70 virgins now but-oh shite, wait, we’re Catholics, we don’t do sex, we reproduce by binary fission. Bummer.

Secondly there’s the paradigm shift between the fire and brimstone God of the Old Testament and the touchy-feely-come-here-I’ll-give-you-a-cuddle of the New. Schizophrenia much? There are pills for that, you know.

Then there’s that famous Theological Problem of Evil which I won’t bore myself with again. Bollocks. You’re either omnipotent or not and if you are and permit evil, then you’re a cunt. Simple. There. I said it. Cue lightning. Oh no, I forgot-you’ve gone all non-interventionist now bilhaqq.

Your Earthly representatives, (at my last observation: mostly wooly-brained geriatrics) leave much to be desired. I’m shady on the details-I was busy trying not to bring up my breakfast, mesmerised by the 19 year old with thick tufts of armpit hair poking out of his short sleeved top, sitting in front of me. Yes, in December. Wookiees exist and they go to church0- but last Sunday’s sermon was something about eschewing material possessions. This was followed by a plea for us to be generous so our parish could pay for its massive stained glass wankfest that I, for one, could have happily done without. You couldn’t make this stuff up. I’m not agreeing with the “you should sell the Vatican’s art treasures and give it to the poor” nonsense. What’s done is done and they are best preserved there for future generations anyway-I’m talking about 2010. Next week we’ll be collecting for some mission in Bolivia that will alleviate some of the symptoms of poverty-why not get the Church to use its political clout and tackle the root cause of poverty-social inequality and corruption instead of pussy-footing around trying to be everyone's best mate? I digress. No, I rant.

More importantly Mr. God-why are there poor in the first place? Were some people created just to suffer? To serve as examples for the better-off to thank you for not being like? That doesn’t sound like the ‘Just God’ image you like to project. And don’t even think about giving me the old “post-mortem rewards” spiel. Nobody I’ve ever met has come back from the dead and told me “hang in there, Joe-it gets better”, so I’m kind of stuck relying on 2000 year-old third hand reports here. And people back then weren’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. If somebody with the gift of the gab came along today with a groundbreaking new philosophy you’d think “Hey! This guys is smart! He must have done a lot of thinking to come up with this”, but not the ancient Jews-oh no. They’d start asking themselves whether he’s Elijah reincarnated. Aber natürlich! Mind you, I’m not blaming them-if you’ve been brought up on a diet of prophets and promised lands just around the corner, it’d be just as daft to expect otherwise.

And I’m not even talking about extremes of suffering here- I’m talking everyday stuff, close to home, I’m talking about Mrs. Josephine Bloggs crying herself to sleep because she doesn’t know why her kids won’t listen or why her boss is a bitch or where her next paycheque is coming from. How does that enrich the universe, or you, exactly? What is the point?

Your second (and lets hope it’s the fucking last and you don’t pull a “To Be Continued” cliffhanger on us again) coming is well overdue now. Don’t blame the snowbound runways-you can miracle them suitably landable if you wanted to. Or come to Malta where it never snows -heck, I’m sure they’d name a street after you if you did. (there’s a Triq Napuljun in Zurrieq and he only spent about ten minutes here so I’m sure you qualify).  Come and do your thing and restore creation and all that guff. Please.

But that’s the thing-you obviously don’t want to change anything. You’re all mouth and no trousers. If omnipotence is not us mistranslating the ancient Hebrew term for “priapism” (and given the vagaries of ancient Hebrew and Greek, I’m sure it is a possibility), your infinite wisdom really ought to allow for a suitable solution not involving endless mass suffering.

“God does not play dice with the Universe” Prof. Einstein? I have a sneaking suspicion that he does. With himself, knowing the outcome beforehand and doing it anyway. Try wrapping your head around that one, genius.

I’m sure your all-loving heart bleeds watching creation go to hell in a handcart, so instead of sitting up there weeping like a fanny, pull your finger out and fix it or do us all a favour and pull the plug. Fuck’s sake, man. God. Man-God. You know what I mean.

Chop chop! Hallik mill-berdej!

TCM

This Charming Man is a reluctant legal professional, an ex-professional soldier, ex-waiter, ex-deli sandwich maker, ex-expat, ex-boyfriend, ex-pretty-much-everything-else-under-the-sun and generally ex-hausted. Some also say, a slightly unhinged cantankerous moaner. Wait. This is Planet...err...moaner, right?

Every week he publishes a letter on Planetmona.com .  Planetmona is Malta's food, travel and review website, edited by Mona Farrugia.  If you're looking for a restaurant in Malta, this is where you should be. If you're looking for something else, ask God. He knows everything.