It’s been a glorious decade for baseball. Not a single Yankees World Series appearance. Makes me ecstatic. A Yankees hater’s dream. But if God (who I don’t believe exists, but I’m going to ignore that complication) were to meet me on Mt. Sinai, I can well imagine the following conversation.
God: Psst, Stu.
Me: Huh? I must be hearing voices in my head. Need to check that out when I get off this mountain.
God: Dummy, it’s me, God.
Me: Oh f*%k, I’m thinking God is talking to me. I’ve really lost it.
God: You are thick. Guess I’m going to have to make some lightning and thunder on a cloudless day for you to believe me. (lightning and thunder)
Me: Nice trick. It must be you. What’s with the Exit 9 New Jersey accent? Why don’t you sound like, you know, God?
God: That accent is acting. It’s just for the movies. Anyway, I’ve got a deal for you.
Me: What? Ten more commandments? No way. The original ten are already impossible to keep.
God: True that. No, I can make sure Trump is never re-elected and goes to prison for the rest of his life.
Me: Wow. You must really be all powerful.
God: I am. But there’s a catch, Stu. There’s always a catch. I can make Trump lose and end up in prison, but it’s gonna cost ya.
Me: I’m open to deals, sure.
God: A decade of Yankees World Series wins.
Me (instantly): Yes!
God: Then it’s a deal. Nice doing business with you.
Me: Why do you want the Yankees to win, anyway?
God: Because I’m a Yankees fan, of course!
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