After being told that I had made God in my own image, I figured it would be OK to let him go. He must still be hanging around as a consultant, because you never totally shed that childhood religion.

You can’t have it both ways. You can’t enjoy the universe without someone at the helm and take your “Why me?” seriously.

Me: I try so hard and I’m a good person. Why no good results?

God: Excuse me, but my severance package ran out in the mid 1970’s.

I think I’ve been looking at my life as some kind of story. I went from authoritarian God to authoritarian father to authoritarian-type shrink to authoritarian-type husband.  

But I don’t think I even qualify to author the story of my life. Real life’s too random.

More like reality TV?

Come on. Even reality TV has so much more theme to it than a real life. When I watch Jersey Shore tomorrow night, I will watch an edited and Bumpited up reality. We won’t, thank God (sorry, I’ll compensate you per diem), see what happens when Snooki crawls into bed with Vinny. And Sammi’s weekly pining over Ronnie will be enhanced by another sappy slow song.

Time to switch channels to Reality Reality.

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