Frank

O deus de todos nós medita sobre a futilidade da vida humana, sobre mentiras e sobre o caos que de facto me faz pensar que deus não pode existir, ou a existir, é uma criatura horrivel:

The father of the family went on the air to ask other people who’ve had horrible stuff happen to tell him how to deal with it. His pastor was with him. I always wonder how the pastor is going to explain it to somebody like this. I mean you can only take the old “God works in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform” line so far. Mysterious is one thing, but a military jet has to land on your little residential street where nothing worse than a stray cat ever happened, and then bounce—bounce!—right on the house where your success-story immigrant family is doing their upwardly mobile chores? That’d be a little too mysterious for me, if I was the Korean Methodist dad looking at the ashes. If that Pastor started giving me that line about “We can’t know what God has in mind for us,” I’d start by saying—no, I’d start by shooting the smug bastard, then saying to his corpse, “Well maybe not but we can let Him know that this is an unacceptable outcome!” I’d defect to Satan if it was me, or at least the Mormons.