See, God or Allah or Goddess or the Almighty–whatever you call Him or Her, produces this Earth Show.
He’s hired a director, someone like Jesus or Buddha, except maybe they’ve never been planetary-bound, maybe someone like St. Oleander or Baba Racha or Sister Angellica Ruth.
We’re all souls, looking maybe like eggs in a carton, or maybe we’re flying around on invisible wings, behind the stage, waiting to audition.
Let’s call our director St. Archie. He’s smoking a Cuban cigar and sports a two-day beard.
