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God and Trump – the real story

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And the Lord said unto Trump: "Thou shalt run for president but thou shalt not gain office unless thy followers are dumb asses!"

And the Lord said unto Trump: “Thou shalt run for president but thou shalt not gain office unless thy followers are dumb asses!”

Feature by guest reporter J R Eldridge

I recently had the privilege of interviewing one of the most famous figures in history, Yahweh, the God of the Israelites.

This interview was unlike any other I have taken part in; rather than sitting in a comfortable office opposite the interviewee, I had to climb to the top of Mount Sinai and shout into the clouds.

At first, I was unsure if God could be reached for comment, but after a few moments, there was a blinding pillar of light, and a voice like the blast of a trumpet came booming from the Heavens: “What?”

After a lengthy discussion, I managed to explain to him that I was a reporter.

“Oh, Me,” he sighed. “I know where this is going. Look, I know you lot down on Earth like to think that I’m in control of everything that happens, but I just set the ball rolling.

“It’s not my fault that there are natural disasters, famine, wars, and Justin Bieber. You guys did most of that on your own.”

Reluctant as I was to contradict the supreme deity, I replied: “No, that wasn’t what I was going to ask. My question is: ‘What’s up with Donald Trump?’ A lot of people are saying that you were the one who made him president.”

The atmosphere was palpable, and after a long pause, God sighed, “Ergh, I was wondering when this would come out.”

“Oh, so you did have a hand in it?” I ventured.

“Well, kind of. But it’s not what you think!” protested the Almighty.

“You see, back before I kicked Satan out of Heaven, he and I used to be drinking buddies. We’d often place wagers on things, and, not to toot my own horn, I always won. I mean, I am God.

“Recently, I was out drinking with the angel Azrael, when I realised that Satan was drinking in the very same pub.

“To be honest, it was pretty awkward. I mean, we hadn’t spoken in a few millennia. But anyway, we got talking, we had a few beers, and we reminisced about the old days.

“To cut a long story short, he brought up the idea of making the least qualified person in the world a presidential candidate.”

“You mean you made Trump president as part of a bar bet?” I gasped.

‘No, I didn’t actually intend for him to be president,” snorted the Lord. “That’s the bizarre thing.

“Satan and I agreed that nobody would ever be foolish enough to actually vote for the idiot. We just thought it would be funny if he ran, I mean, he was guaranteed to make an ass of himself and put on a hell of a show. We never dreamed they’d actually elect him.

“But, of course, I underestimated the stupidity of the average American voter.”

I attempted to get additional details out of the Lord, but he declared: “No further questions,” and in just as dramatic a fashion as he had appeared, he was gone.

J. R. Eldridge is author of The MisreadBible: Genesis, a satirical retelling of the Book of Genesis. His website is MisreadBible.


Who really made Trump president?
What question would you like to ask God?
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