Missives from Outer and Inner Space

Hello, world

This is God.  From up here in heaven, I’ve noticed a few things about your planet.  I have some suggestions.  First, you have too many religions.  Unless you syncretize and merge them all into one giant ball of Me, I’m going to be forced to have to take sides.  I would hate to have to do that.  Secondly, you’ve got heaven all wrong, ass-backwards.  It’s not in outer-space.   For humans, it’s earth.  Personally, I like my planet orbiting Beta Reticuli the best, but that’s just me.  You humans are nothing like me, aside from looking similar.  Thirdly, I don’t taste like Godiva chocolates, gouda cheese, or any other ambrosia you have, including the body of Christ.  I merely taste like good old boring chicken.   I cut off my arm last week and ate it, so I definitely know.  Don’t worry about me, I can do anything.   My new arm is coming along nicely.  Finally, I’m coming to visit, in a month.  You are warned.  You have time to prepare.  I’d like to visit with the Dalai Lama and the Pope and make a stop at Mecca and go to a pow-wow and maybe read everything at the Library of Congress, if you could possibly download all that data into a computer for me, ahead of time, would be greatly appreciated.  I will cure all your diseases for you, if you can manage that, okay?  I look forward to meeting you all!

-God

This is the Devil speaking:

Greetings, earthlings.   From down here in hell, deep in the bowels of your shitty planet, I want to make known that God is not welcome here.   Keep Him on your surface, but don’t let him enter any mines, mineshafts, volcanoes, or tectonic fissures.   He will get burned, and it will be His own damned fault, so Be Warned.  I am the God here, not Him, and I like it hot and heavy.   God is cool, up there in the clouds, but all this magma and lava and pressure are not where He belongs, and the screaming cries of the damned are not the kind of thing he’s used to what with all that angelic harping and heavenly choirs and the Grateful Dead and whatnot.  Tell your space-deity he can Go to Hell (but only if he's prepared to suffer the torments and agony of those He rejects from his perfect la-di-da cushy little utopian escapist getaway he calls Heaven, alright?).