People of Earth,

S’nathrokhan here. I’m the God of a planet two galaxies, four dimensions, and nineteen possibilities away. Weird question… are you guys having horrifically frequent mass shootings? Because if you’ve been counting on your God to end those, I have some bad news: your prayers keep getting accidentally delivered to my house.

You all know how prayers work: You make a wish, it shoots up into the sky, gets intercepted by the pan-reality post office, and then dropped off at the correct God’s castle, where He / She / They / An Unfathomable Wriggling Mass of Eyeballs reads it and makes it come true. But your prayers must’ve bumped into a black hole or gotten turned around in a nine-dimensional space bubble because I’m getting truckloads of your pleas to end gun violence. And they have started pouring in with, frankly, embarrassing frequency.

Now… I know this isn’t My place—and keep in mind, this is coming from a horned snake with 10,000 legs and infinite teeth who demands tri-annual virgin sacrifices and who wipes out all life on His planet every time someone has a single impure thought—but your relationship with guns is seriously messed up.

You guys have been praying to end gun violence for decades. I got one prayer this morning, it was all banged up and covered with RETURN TO SENDER stickers—and it was from a shooting outside Littleton, Colorado in 1999. And nothing has changed since then!

Excuse My ignorance about your planet but… do you guys not have laws or something?

Also, I can’t help but notice that all your gun-death-related thoughts and prayers are coming from one particular part of your Earth. Are the other people praying to a different god? Do the people outside your “America” have bulletproof skin? Might be worth looking into it and seeing what the differences are, is all I’m saying.

And, sorry if I’m overstepping My bounds here, but you might want to rethink what’s “prayer appropriate” and what’s not.

Just look what you’re praying for. A bountiful harvest? A “Thank You” for breathing life into you? Nope. You’re praying for humans to stop killing other humans. Now, I don’t really know your god that well—we’ve met a couple of times at conferences—but on My planet, that’s the kind of prayer that would be answered with a big “Go fuck yourselves.”

Mudslides, freak lightning storms, untreatable illnesses—those are god problems. But YOU killing each other with killing machines YOU created to kill each other seems like a YOU problem. Go do something about it! But, hey, that’s just this god’s opinion.

Anyway, I’ve pinned this note to the Fermi crater on the far side of your moon, where one of your astronauts will surely pick it up soon. I’m trying to get through to someone at the post office, but in the meantime, you might want to get started on some non-prayer solutions to all your mass shootings. Take it from Me, an omniscient creature of pure Wrath, if there’s one thing even we Gods can’t fix, it’s poor mail delivery. (On My planet, that joke is groundbreaking and hilarious. And if you didn’t laugh, I would smite your entire village.)

Eternal Torture to All Non-Believers In S’nathrokhan, and Seriously, Good Luck With Your Gun Problem,
S’nathrokhan