“I lay on my back one night and looked down at my feet, and I prayed to God. I said, ‘God, will you please let me have boobs so big that I can’t see my feet when I’m lying down?’ God answered my prayers.” – Katy Perry at age 11, quoted in GQ

Editorial By
The Lord God Thy God
OK, OK, I know. I hear you. Why would I answer Katy Perry’s prayers and ignore the pleas of people who are hungry or homeless or dying? Why would I grant her youthful request to have bigger breasts when instead I could save a child here or a village there?

"I may be old. I may be ever-present. But I'm not dead," sayeth the Lord.

It’s a fair question, but in My defense, well, have you seen ’em? Because if you have, honestly, why are you complaining? You should be impressed. You should be applauding. You should be jumping up and down. Like they do.

I mean, you all marvel at the Grand Canyon and you don’t complain about that. So why are you whinging about this? What I bestowed upon her is pretty grand, so just admire it. Think of it as another gift from Me. Mammary from Heaven. Divine Intervavoom. And God said, ‘Let there be headlights!’
That’s right, I just said that.

What? I can’t be happy with what I create? Please. You people make beer helmets and think that’s pretty cool. You put water in a bottle and think that’s better. You created Handerpants. So please, don’t criticize what I choose to make.
And for the record, it’s not a sexist thing. I also hear the prayers of men who ask to be better endowed, which would be, at last count, all of them. I don’t often answer those prayers. Who has that much time?

But fine, yes, arguably I could choose to listen only to the prayers of the sick, the needy and the victims, but all they ever ask for is to not be sick or needy or victimized. Frankly, it’s a bit same-y, a bit omni-mind-numbing. But then along comes a young lady who asks for something different. She doesn’t want food or clothing or safety or shelter. She just wants, in her words, “big boobs.” Well of course I’m going to hear that one. Of course that’s going to pique my interest. Face it, I’m attracted to shiny objects. Look how many stars I’ve made.

And by that I mean real stars, not “celebrities.” Although that does bring up another complaint: that I’m playing favorites with celebrities, giving them physical advantages. Nonsense. First off, I don’t choose what makes them celebrities. You do. Great job with that, by the way. Secondly, Katy wasn’t a celebrity when I decided to answer her prayer. She was 11. Lastly, and most importantly, I may be a lot of things — OK, technically ‘everything’ — but I am not unfair. Never doubt that everything is in balance. Never doubt that whenever I open a window, somewhere I close a door. Katy’s a perfect example. Yes, I answered her prayer, but do you know who I have her dating? John Mayer. That’s right. She’s got big breasts, but she’s in love with an asshole. So quit griping.

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