5.Hi there, God, it’s me, Abraham Amsterdam.
I hope you’ve had a wonderful day running the universe. Doing all that you do. I should ask . . . is God your real name? Is God the name that you like to be called by? If it’s not, I’m very sorry. I did not mean to be insensitive to your feelings. If there is a name you would rather be called by, please tell me. On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t tell me. Because even if you tell me, I still might call you God. No offense. Let me explain. Me still calling you God wouldn’t be out of disrespect. It would be out of fear that I’m going crazy, because crazy people are the only people who think that you talk to them. But maybe if you give me some proof to show myself and other people to prove that I’m not crazy, then I could call you what you want me to. I don’t know why I’m even saying this, though. God’s a perfectly good name. Why wouldn’t you be happy with it? But if you’re not happy with it, please give me a sign that I’m not crazy. I know that might be annoying. I’m sure it is annoying. You know what? Forget it. Forget everything I said. If you didn’t like being called God, I’m sure you’d let me know in some way. You’re God. You can do anything you want. But you don’t need me to tell you that. Or do you? Sorry, I’m babbling here. Anyway, speaking of things you know how to do, I hope you don’t mind listening to my prayers tonight again. I’m sorry that they are the same prayers every night. But I figure it’s best to remind you, because of how busy you are. So if it’s okay, here I go:
Please have me, my mother, my father, my sister, my grandmas and grandpas and uncles and aunts and cousins, my dog Cosmic, my friends, the teachers I like, and Raymond the bus driver have very very very long, happy, healthy, successful lives and afterlives for all of eternity and everlasting.
Please help there be such a thing as eternity.
Please help time go on after we die, and make it not just be the end.
Please help me get used to eternity and the afterlife fast.
Please help there still be delicious food and great TV and movies to watch in the afterlife.
Please help there be world peace one day with no wars and no famine and no suffering.
Please help there be no diseases, and if there are, please have them be far far far away.
Please help me to not ever get addicted to drugs.
Please help me lose my virginity at an age that isn’t embarrassing.
Please help the girl I lose my virginity to be surprised that it’s just my first time.
Please help me achieve all my dreams.
Please help me become a famous comedian and actor.
Please help me become popular in school.
Please help me never be paralyzed, or blind, or deaf, or any other handicap. Not that I look down on people like that, just please don’t have me ever be like them, and please have there be a cure for all disabilities one day so nobody needs to suffer from these horrible diseases and handicaps we have. But until all of that is cured please keep all that stuff away from me.
Please when I have children have them all be normal.
Please when I have children have their eyes go where their eyes go, their noses go where their noses go, and their mouths go where their mouths go.
Please have nothing on my children’s bodies look at all like a flipper.
Please have me smile more in my life than frown.
Please have me laugh more in my life than cry.
Please help me not fear death so much.
Please help me not have nightmares tonight, especially the one where a giant orangutan breaks into the house, kills my parents, then sucks my penis off my body like it was hardly even attached, with a big goofy smile on his face, or the other one where my socks come alive and then start eating my legs, and I go and try to return them from where I bought them, but the guy who sold them to me has a sock for a head and tells me that there’s nothing wrong with them even though they are chewing away at me and laughing while they do it and their laugh sounds like Eddie Murphy’s. Or the one where my toilet comes alive and convinces me to let it switch jobs with my bed.
Please help me not embarrass myself in gym class, baseball practice, or mini-golf ever again.
Please help me never fall down again.
Please help me not cut myself again.
Please help me never burn myself again.
Please help me never break any bones.
I know I already asked to not go blind, but I want to make it extra clear that I really don’t want to be blind. You might think that I’d be willing to be blind if you made me a musical genius. Maybe that’s a thing you’re planning. To make me blind and, so I don’t hate you or kill myself, make me a musical genius like Ray Charles or Stevie Wonder. That’s okay. I’ll keep my eyes, thank you. You can give that gift of musical genius to someone else.
Please help me be a comedy genius. To be clear, I’m not willing to go blind to make this happen, either.
Please help my parents never divorce.
Please help my parents like each other again.
Please help me look in the mirror and think I’m handsome.
Please help me feel like I’m handsome when I talk to girls.
Please help me stop getting made fun of.
Please make everyone who has ever bullied me get cancer and die . . . I’m sorry, I don’t mean that.
Please don’t let me or anyone I care about get cancer and die as punishment for me wishing cancer and death on people.
To repeat: please have me, my mother, my father, my sister, my grandmas and grandpas and uncles and aunts and cousins, my dog Cosmic, my friends, the teachers I like, and Raymond the bus driver all have very very very long, happy, healthy, successful lives and afterlives for all of eternity and everlasting.
Please help me be rich.
Please help me have a mansion.
Please help me have a swimming pool.
Please help me have four pinball machines, and six arcades, and every video game system and every video game ever made.
Please help me never have to go in the army.
Please help me do what’s right.
Please don’t punish me if I do wrong.
Please help me stand up for myself or anyone else who needs it and not get hurt or killed while doing it.
Please help me not be scared and depressed when I move out of the house when I’m older.
Please help me welcome adulthood and not miss childhood.
Please have my kids love me as much as my wife.
Please have my wife love me as much as my kids.
Please help me listen to my gut.
Please help me not look to others to see what I think or feel.
Please help me never be racist.
Please destroy racism.
Please help me with a thought I had the other night. The other night during dinner I had a thought. I thought that I have never really seen myself with my own eyes, and that I never will. Sure, I can look in the mirror or at a photograph, but how do I know that reflection or that photograph is how I really look. That maybe the way my eyes see the reflection or photo is not how other people’s eyes see the same reflection or photograph of me. I could look completely different. I could be uglier. I could be more handsome. I don’t know. I guess there’s no way to know and no way to change it. It’s not like I can turn my eyes around, and even if I could they would just be inside my head and all I’d see is the inside of my brain. I guess the other option would be to make it so my eyes come out of my head and then turn around. But that wouldn’t be good either because my eyes would be looking at my face without eyes. And then it doesn’t matter how pretty or handsome I am. A face with no eyes? That’s disgusting. I guess it could work if when my eyes came out of my head, they were replaced with another set of eyes. But that’s not going to happen, is it? So I guess what I’m praying for is: don’t ever let me have that thought ever again.
Please help me channel you through me every day, and let you guide me to do what you would do—not that I could do what you do, but if you were me, please help me do what you would do. And don’t worry, I don’t expect to fully understand what I’m being guided to do. I know I could never really know what you think or do. I know I’m not you and could never be you. I admit it. Sometimes I wish I were you. But I also admit that sometimes I’m glad I’m not you. I mean, what a job you have. How many people are praying to you right now? How can you listen to all of us at once? You must have real patience. Or maybe you don’t. Is that why there’s all of this killing and war and hate? Because you’re frustrated and annoyed with us all talking your ear off day and night and you’re taking it out on us? If so, I don’t blame you. Or are all of the bad things in the world the Devil? Is he real? And is he getting away with doing all these bad things because you’re too distracted by our prayers to catch him before he does it? Are we making you too busy? These are things I know I can never understand, so please, at least help me feel like you’re taking care of me and help me trust in your care and never get in the way of that and always make sure that what I do would be done by you if you were me, not that you would ever be me or want to be me. Not that you ever wouldn’t want to be me. Not that you look down on me—I know that you respect me. But please have me be as much like you as a human being can be like you.
Please respect me.
Please hear my prayers.
Please exist, God.
I love you.
Thank you for listening.
Amen.