An English In Kentucky


















Sunday September 25th 2011    Tim Candler

      If one evening God drank too much and then knocked on the front door with an offer to grant me a single wish, I would go carefully.  I know from my own bitter experience of making inebriated promises how seldom they are honored.  Through the rosy haze they are so easy to make, and then in the morning there is a dawn of realization, which I suppose is why some years ago being drunk was an excuse magistrates understood.  And then there is the committee of Angels, whose role primarily is to keep God on track.


     It would be a big mistake to ask for something clearly contrary to God's interests, like doing away with foxholes, where apparently all men become believers.  Nor would it make sense to ask for an end to hunger, because that too is obviously an opportunity cost in the Almighty's political calculations.  Instead I would ask for something even the Angels might accept as an unnecessary nuisance.  I would ask him to do away with Creeping Grass.  And I'd better be the first to answer the door knock, because I'm fairly certain The Artist would tell God to come back when he is sober.

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