And On The Eighth Day, GOD looked down on his planet paradise, Bedlam Farm,  and he made a windbag.

God Said, “I need  a family man, someone to be strong, to leave his family, move to the country with donkeys, a border collie smarter than he was,  get divorced, fall in love with a younger woman, give his money away, get Diabetes, have a breakdown and run outside naked in the snow in a Wizard’s cap to cheer up his wife when she made her first potholders.”

God said He Needed a strong man to “take the arrows” and stand up to the trolls, peckerheads, and little people who thought he was crazy, evil, and dishonest and told him so. God wanted a strong and willful man to stand up to them, a “pighead” as he put it.

(Note: IN CASE you have been wondering how I got to be here, a place I clearly did not belong, the answer is simple, I just realized. GOD CHOSE ME. Like the woman said, I lead an off-center life.)

GOD WANTED a man who could look his wife in the eye and say, “honey, you might be right; I promise not to leave my dirty clothes on the floor, scatter my shit all over the dining room table, insult our friends, and remember to put the same color socks on.”

GOD NEEDED a man with a strong wife; one who would tell him, “leave me alone, old man; we had sex last month, I’m making some art, go take your moose of a dog and go rant on your blog and pretend you have something thoughtful to say. And wash your dishes,  clean up the dog shit in the yard after you go grocery shopping. I got the mail yesterday.”

GOD wanted a brave man who would buy a ukulele and strum it on the back porch while the cats, chickens, donkeys, and dogs ran and hid. And who would wear a curious cap to keep all the heat in his body from escaping from his bald head.

ON THE FOURTH DAY, God said he wanted to find a man stupid enough to move alone to a 90-acre farm with sheep and donkeys in the middle of a blizzard and lamb in February and fall and his head on the ice five or six times a  week while his dog laughed at him and refused to sleep in the same room at night and his donkey bit him on the ass.

“Is this why I’m so dumb?, the man God made asked him after another fall on the head on the ice.”Is this why I lambed in February and had a nervous breakdown?”

GOD SIGHED and told the man to shut up and fill up the water tank before the donkeys died of thirst. And get some warm boots and gloves, he added.

And On The Eighth DAY, God said, “I need a protector, somebody to go out and annoy people, create more hysteria amid chaos, babble on about Thomas Merton and St. Therese,  obsess on his new camera like a teenager, and bare his very soul on the Internet five or six times a day.

(Pssst, whispered God to the man. “You are bold, but you have a lot of work to do on yourself.”)

GOD WANTED A MAN brave enough to say no to donkeys when they whinnied for alfalfa cubes or no to dogs who waited outside the bathroom every morning while he came out soaking wet in order to demand treats. Perhaps, God wondered, this wasn’t the right man after all.

GOD WANTED a man strong enough to get up at dawn and run naked outside into his yard, hiding from school buses and truck drivers, to take a picture of flowers lit up by the rising sun.

AND ON THE NINTH DAY, God said he wanted a man brave enough to tell an 82-year-old widow to blow it out her ass when she said she preferred Zinnia flowers to Begonias. Back to the therapist.

On The FOURTEENTH DAY, GOD decided he wanted another protector, someone to ensure the wood-fried pizzas were ordered on time, the French crepes were warm when they got home,  the right color cabbages were bought for once, and the donkeys’ manure pile didn’t get too big to get in the way of his landscape photos.

On The THIRD DAY, GOD said he wanted a man strong enough to ensure his artist wife had stuffing for the pillows she sometimes made and to sing the “brilliant, brilliant” song when she made a potholder.

GOD WANTED SOMEONE tough enough to save nothing for retirement, spend too much money on useless things, and buy a dozen sleep apnea masks to keep from sneezing and snoring in the middle of the night while his wife screamed with fright and shouted, “Dracula, Dracula!” when he put his mask on so he could breathe without having a heart attack.

“Monster, go sleep downstairs!” she shouted affectionately but sternly. “This is not what I bargained for!”.

ON THE TENTH DAY, God wanted a man to get up, stop the “woke” movement, and protect the sleepy from anyone who disagrees with the other men God made.

What does it mean to be “woke” anyway? I asked God. “Hell, if I know,” he asked, “people seem to go for it. People are not always smart, alas, I’m not perfect.”

I ASKED GOD if he would make a woman who could fight alongside the man, but he told me to stop being selfish and stupid and start praying.

AND ON THE TWELFTH DAY, God decided that he wanted a man who would look down on his daughter and smile when she looked him in the eyes and says, “dad, what the hell are you doing up there on a farm way out in the country with donkeys and sheep and ticks and Republicans and deer in the roads and some woman who is not my mother. Stop calling me; I’m busy!”

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Thanks to Governor Ron DeSantis for reminding me in his new political advertisement that this mess can be fun as well as frightening. If you believe in God, have a drink before looking at the ad; if you don’t, enjoy the fun. I always believed politics should never be taken too seriously.

And a nod to the late famed radio announcer Paul Harvey, whose ghost seems to have been the voice in the ad, which the governor’s wife created. Harvey was last reported spinning in his grave.