A Message From One God To Another: An Epilogue

God speaks to Smitty: I am He who knows all, sees all, created all.

God Talks To God: King of Kings

Monologue from God: The Orange Interruption

So imagine my surprise when your orange creation— born of spray tan and ego—declared he was Me. Oh, how the heavens cackled. Archangels spilled chalices. Gabriel dropped his horn.

He descended not from Olympus, not from Mount Sinai, but from a golden escalator in a mall of mirrors. A prophet not of peace, but of prime-time ratings.

He called himself “saved.” But salvation, dear children, is not found in tweets, nor in military parades choreographed like dystopian halftime shows.

You crowned him with golden whispers, sacred delusion, made him your Cyrus, your Samson, your Messiah with a hairpiece. A Golden Calf reincarnated—bull-headed and bleating, stomping through the temple of democracy like an auctioneer in a synagogue.

You offered him prayers, not to Me but to his image. He returned the favor with brimstone policies and angelic indifference.

He told you “I am God’s chosen.” So you chose racism wrapped in scripture, empire baptized in fire and nationalism. You turned the Gospel into a political platform. The Sermon on the Mount into a campaign slogan.

But here’s the secret, whispered through burning bushes and broken hearts: If I truly saved him, it was to show you yourselves— a mirror held up to your mythology. Amerika robed in righteousness, dancing on a fault line.

So now you reap. You reap what you escalatored in.

And as for Me? I weep not, for I never sleep. But I do sigh. Forevermore.