God tired of judging people with bad tattoos

Heavenstead. The United Kingdom. Needless to say, being God is an around the clock job. Not an easy one either. The few and far between occasions when I could take a nap or just hang out in the kingdom of heaven catching Pokemons, I am disturbed by all kinds of people, sending me written memos according to which I have their approval to judge them. It’s sorta how this works, fellas! Don’t waste your skin space on stating the obvious. Besides, don’t you have neighbors, friends, families? I mean half of the people who want me to judge them don’t even like me. They just want to postpone this judgment indefinitely up to a point when it won’t matter to them anymore. Why don’t people with good taste ever want me to judge them?

FYI, anyone can judge you and most everyone will. So cut me some slack, mortals, will you?

Next time place a request with my secretary, Jesus.

Or go next door:

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