I know, I know, I am a freaking moron.

Man, this sucks. I really thought it was just a straight shot from My seat at the right hand of the Father down to His earthly kingdom, but obviously I was mistaken. Which is extra humiliating considering I’m supposed to be all-seeing and all-knowing, and everything. Apparently not! Apparently, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords is a total bonehead with zero sense of direction. So, yeah, if you could come grab Me, I’d super appreciate it.

Maybe I took a wrong turn at Cloud 18 or something? I don’t know, they all kinda look the same: huge, majestic, riddled with angels playing their stupid harps at all hours of the day. And it’s true I haven’t been back in almost 2,000 years…but come on. How could I be so stupid?

At first I looked around at all the red soil and sunbaked cliffs, assumed I was in Arizona, and was like, “Okay, looks like the Rapture is starting in Phoenix!” Then I started feeling really short of breath and realized there was basically no atmosphere at all. Like, none. And I thought, hmm, that’s odd, I’ve never been to the American Southwest, but I’m pretty sure there should at least be some oxygen. It wasn’t until I turned around to get My bearings and saw two huge-ass moons floating in the sky that I realized, shit, You are on the completely wrong planet.

Fuck My life.

I’m supposed to be riding in on the back of a great white stallion, wearing a robe dipped in blood, and tossing sinners into a lake of fire, but instead I’m sitting here in some gigantic crater freezing My ass off with no fish to multiply, no water to turn into wine, and no sign of public transportation at all. Okay, I’m looking at Google Maps, and it says it’s gonna take a whole millennium to get back. Great. All I brought are these stupid sandals. This is gonna be murder on My plantar fasciitis.

Hello? Can anyone hear Me? Nope. Not even a freaking echo. This is creepy as hell.

Guys. I’m serious. Come pick Me up. I get that it’s out of the way, but I’ll owe you big time. I’m over by the big mountain that’s in the shape of a face. You know that one? I’m right past that in a little ravine. Just look for the long-haired dumbshit in a bright white robe waving His hands around like an asshole.

Just hurry. And please don’t tell My Dad or He will fucking kill Me. Again.

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Reference #90835

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CHŌ, NISHIIWAI,

IWATE, JAPAN—

Struggling to decide

whether one on fall or spring

would rock their shit more,

Zen monk Ken Ito

strained for a haiku to knock

them on their asses.

“I could mess them up

with that Bashō one about

the full moon’s splendor,”

the Buddhist monk said

Wednesday, seeing a tour group

on the temple grounds,

trawling through his mind

for the best contemplations

on life’s fleetingness

in syllabic sets

of five-seven-five that could

blow their fucking minds.

“Then again maybe

I hit them with Ryōkan

on the transient

dew on lotus leaves

in the darkened mountainside.

Bet that fucks them up.”

At press time, after

the monk had found the perfect

haiku, he remarked,

“Ah, summer grasses! 

All that is still remaining  

Of warriors’ dreams,” 

only to see that

the group had gone, leaving him

feeling like an ass.

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Sailors aboard the vessel confirmed that while Winfrey appeared ill and exhausted from continuous exposure to the harsh tundra, she nonetheless spent hour upon hour peering through a brass spyglass and scanning the desolate landscape for any sign of the grotesque TV personality and formerly licensed therapist. Despite the heavy winds and raging sea, the 71-year-old media entrepreneur reportedly urged the ship’s captain to press northward. 

“There! There he is, that speck on the horizon!” said Winfrey, who had armed herself with a pistol, several daggers, and a heavy hardcover copy of Jonathan Franzen’s The Corrections in preparation for a final face-to-face encounter with Dr. Phil. “I brought this horrid creature into the world, and now I must take him out!”

“The dæmon will pay for what he’s done to my legacy,” Winfrey continued.

The ship’s captain, 50-year-old Rodney Walton, told reporters that crew members had picked up Winfrey after spotting her stranded on a piece of fractured sea ice with a sled, a team of dogs, and a slightly mad look in her eye. Although she was evidently suffering from pneumonia and malnutrition, Winfrey was said to be hellbent on the immediate pursuit of Dr. Phil. 

Had he not caught a glimpse of the monstrosity himself, Walton stated, he would not have believed in such a television host’s existence. 

“He was tall and impossibly hideous, with a mustache that made my blood run cold,” said Walton, who shuddered visibly as he described Dr. Phil’s gruesome visage. “His voice, too. I’ll never forget it. He kept moaning about out-of-control teens stealing pills and cutting class. It wasn’t human.”

Winfrey expressed remorse over the fateful night years ago when she created the TV host at Harpo Studios, telling reporters it was a hubristic desire to play the Queen of All Media that compelled her to bring Dr. Phil to life. 

Sketches in her possession revealed that she had reanimated Dr. Phil after exhuming the freshly buried remains of a deceased cutthroat and scoundrel, which she then combined with the rotting organs of a door-to-door Amway salesman, several telemarketers, and a disbarred attorney. 

“What beast have I unleashed upon the world?” said Winfrey, who seemed hardly to notice the icicles forming on her eyelashes as she paced back and forth on the deck of the ship.  

Winfrey stated that she had spent the past few months on the trail of Dr. Phil, traveling thousands of miles through the Alps, the Black Sea, the Mediterranean, the Russian wilderness, and, at one point, Los Angeles, where he was embedded with federal immigration officers. Winfrey alleged the pursuit was instigated after Dr. Phil strangled her beloved Stedman in retaliation for her refusal to create a female Dr. Phil to serve as his companion.

“Oh my dear Stedman, how I weep for thee,” said Winfrey, crying out in anguish as she recalled how she had looked up from the spot where she discovered her longtime partner’s limp body and seen a cackling Dr. Phil perched on the window sill. “I fired my pistol, but it was too late—the fiend leapt from the window and dove into the lake.”

“By the power of my 19 Daytime Emmy Awards, I shall vanquish you, wretch!” Winfrey added.

According to sources, Winfrey’s already poor health took a turn for the worse after the vessel became trapped in ice and completely grounded the hunt for the creature. When Winfrey’s condition forced her to take to her bed, she entered a state of delirium, alternately shivering in silence and cursing Dr. Phil’s name at the top of her lungs. She was overheard vowing to hack through every last iceberg herself should it prove necessary to wipe him forever from the face of the earth. 

“Promise me that if I perish, you shall pursue the creature yourself,” said Winfrey, peering up at the ship captain from her bundle of furs in one of her last lucid moments. “This year, my favorite thing is vengeance.”

At press time, Walton had reportedly discovered Dr. Phil hunched over Winfrey’s lifeless body, weeping. 

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Reference #57675

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Yes, I would let my wife and young children starve before I’d defile my resume with exaggerations about my marketing background.

I know what you’re thinking: What’s a little white lie about my experience improving user engagement and SEO going to hurt? If I were faced with the prospect of sending my son and daughter to bed with empty stomachs, then surely there would be no harm in covering a small gap in my employment history by saying I worked at Icon Synergistics from “2021 to 2023” when, more precisely, it was February 2021 to November 2023. The truth is, a lot of harm would be done, and not just to my malnourished household.

You see, it’s when your back is against a wall that you find out what your true convictions are. Suppose I were jobless and could no longer put food on the table. Then, in a moment of weakness, I decided to claim on my resume that I was fluent in HubSpot and Marketo Engage, when in reality, I had familiarity with both but was only truly proficient in HubSpot. Where would it stop? Would I next say I’m the social media strategist at a place I’ve worked for five years, without clarifying that this is only my most recent title and that I actually began there in the junior role of social media assistant? That’s inexcusable.

My family might be able to enjoy three meals a day, but what would become of my self-respect? At the end of the day, I want to feel good about the marketing professional I see staring back at me in the mirror.

Don’t write me off as cold or uncaring. I have a heart. It would be painful to watch as my 5-year-old and 7-year-old were forced to beg for scraps of food on the streets. But when you’re creating a resume, ethics must come first. If the price of putting bread in the mouths of my children is adding a bullet point that overstates my ability to optimize social content, then I say no deal. After embellishing a cover letter to imply that I achieved over 30% conversion in data-driven bundling, how could I look my famished, hollow-cheeked family in their sunken eyes?

Above all, I wouldn’t want to set a bad example for my kids. Surely I’d be doing them no favors if I taught them it was okay to lie to a job recruiter about your B2B client retention rate in order to get a job that provides your loved ones with basic nutritional sustenance. Then they’d grow up to lie on their own resumes, and the web of deceit would continue from generation to generation.

So I would choose to do the right thing, no matter how visible my children’s ribcages might become. And while I hope she would support me in my decision, I would stand firm even if my emaciated wife grabbed my collar and demanded I lie about rolling out strategic acquisition channels and spearheading effective hashtag campaigns. Because falsely listing survey design as a special skill on my resume is a moral failure I could never countenance.

When all is said and done, I know the only special skill I really have is my honor.

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