What Hath God Wrought?

Somehow, there's a popular belief that God/dess is omnipotent (all powerful, for those of you who don't read). I'd love to know who God/dess' agent is to put that one around. Anyway, what's the proof that God/dess is not all powerful?

Simple.

God would make a lousy talk show host. "Why bother asking you any questions? I know all the answers. Why am I laughing? I'm remembering the first time you farted." What attention-starving celebrity would put up with that? Skills needed for creating the Universe mean squat comparred to chatting up Madonna.

My dog Pony would make a better talk show host. It would go something like this:

Celeb: I love you, Pony! I'd jump on the couch, but I can't find one.
Pony: I'm not allowed on the furniture.

Well, Pony is allowed on the furniture in the house, but I think you get my point. SO it's up to you to polish up your talk show host skills, 'cause God ain't gonna do it for ya!

Poem: FootFoot Has Been Touched by God

This was a poem I wrote about 20 years ago about one of my guinea pigs, who in her later life suffered from seizures and hind-end paralysis.  It was first thought that she had epilepsy (after her necropsy, the cause was changed to cirrhosis).  Anyway, even though this isn't about a dog, I think it fits in with this blog.

The photo from the early 1990s shows, from left to right, Gweeker (silver agouti and white), Cocaine (black with white stripe up the nose), Peanut (brown, tan and white) and FootFoot (black.)  I consider my dogs to be great pig guinea pigs, but I do miss living with actual guinea pigs.

And, yes, my guinea pigs were better than God.




FootFoot Has Been Touched By God

You see, FootFoot the guinea pig has epilepsy
In ancient times she'd have a career in prophecy
For then those with fits
had been as seen as having been touched by God a bit

This thunderstorm of the brain
the seizures pouring down like rain
proves nothing can be the same
after the touch of God

The ancients knew that God can drive you crazy
Making a hurricane in your brain
And so Foot Foot lies on her back, thrashing
telling God to go away
and leave her alone
to nibble hay