Dear Bob in heaven

You’ve heard it.

Somewhere, you’ve encountered that fingernails-on-the-chalkboard experience: a little child trailing its parent repeatedly yelling (with increasing loudness), “Mom! … Mom! … Mom! … Mom! … Mom! … Mom! … Mom! … Mom!” It’s the kind of thing that can spur homicidal tendencies in anyone.

Then it dawned on me.

Every day I’m telling God to damn this or damn that; bless this or that schmuck who just sneezed; or thanking God for for one thing or another that, most likely, is pretty damn trivial. Maybe this was precisely what the 3rd Commandment was designed to prevent: using God’s name in vain. If a single child screaming “Mom! Mom! Mom!” can make someone crazy, I just can’t imagine what billions of people doing the same thing on a daily basis would do.

So to provide God with some relief, I’m planning to change my ways. From now on, I’m calling on Bob. TV remote doesn’t work? “Bob damn it!” Someone cuts you off in traffic? “Bob damn you!”

Like any great plan, this one is totally customizable. You can pick anyone you want to do your damning/blessing: Jim, Gary, Sue, Linda, etc. Not to mention that this is designed in such a way that the workload gets shared. Think about it: there must be what, at least two or three Bobs in heaven? I’m sure they can easily divide up all of my daily requests.

Of course, this new approach includes the flexibility to scale my responses based on the situation. If I’m in a dire need of getting my favorite snack fix, and the local CVS actually has peanut butter M&Ms in stock, well, “Thank Bob.” But if I’m a passenger in a plane that has to make an emergency landing, and everyone walks away from the wreckage unharmed, well, on that occasion, I might direct my gratitude over Bob’s head.