Dear people who see images of me in their food,
This will be a brief letter because I have a 11pm appearance in a piece of strawberry-rhubarb pie at a diner down the Shore.
Okay, seriously, folks. Can we talk? Because if I didn't know absolutely everything and couldn't discern every single thought that goes through the mind of every single person ever created at every nanosecond of every day of every year of all eternity, I would be mystified.
Are we not clear that I said the next time I came back would be on the clouds of heaven with thousands and thousands of angels in attendance? Does that sound like the next time I came back, it would be on toast?
I can only come up with two plausible reasons why people keep thinking they see me in their snacks and, occasionally, in their fine apparel.
1. You think I have an impish sense of humor.
Which I obviously do, since I created you. But I like to think my sense of fun is a bit more evolved than showing up in a Cheeto. That's like the spiritual equivalent of slipping on a banana peel. When Sarah had a baby at age 85 in the book of Genesis, now that's some funny stuff, y'all. Not only funny-ha-ha and funny-strange, but also funny-joyful. That's the way I roll. Not creeping you out by suddenly appearing in your cinnamon bun. Lame.
2. It's a lot easier to have a "vision" than to actually take me seriously.
Okay, let's talk Ebay. Currently, there's a stone sculpture up for bid that's supposedly a miraculous image of me and my mom. For $9,999.99. And you know that someone is going to pony up that cash, so here's a wacky idea: why not give that money to the poor? I don't want to go all BibleBash on you, but hello, Luke 12:33?
You guys know how much I love you. And if you don't, just watch major league baseball for the dude with the big sign. But you're all so easily distracted. You start doing a little soul-searching and it looks like you might be actually thinking about important internal spiritual matters and--SQUIRREL! You see me in a tortilla and it's all gone. No more "what is the meaning of my life?" Now it's "will I be on the 6 o'clock news with my Messiah Taco?"
In closing, I'd just like to remind you of something; nobody actually knows what I looked like when I walked the earth, so how do they know that's me in their pierogi? I see that pierogi and I say Che Guevara. Or Jack Black in Nacho Libre.
I will say, however, that this is kinda freaky:
I love you all even though you look for me in frying pan grease,