Dear Faithful,
I regret to inform you that the near-collapse of the worldwide economy has hit our organization especially hard. Tithes are down to a fraction of what they once were, and frankly, we can no longer justify the expense of suddenly having 200 million guests arrive all at once.
I know it's short notice and a surprisingly large number of you have already stopped paying your bills and quit your jobs and skipped out of jury duty but we are going to have to postpone the Rapture scheduled for this Saturday. We are as disappointed as you are, trust Me. After running the numbers, though, having three percent of the world's population show up at the front door all at once just isn't doable.
You may have read that we are extremely short-staffed at the moment. I mean we only have one door guy and even if St. Peter were to take only one tenth of a second to check that you were on the list, give you your golden harp, stamp your hand, and show you in it would still take nearly eight months for the last of you to enter. Even if you guys did get head-of-the-line privileges we are gonna need one hell of a lot of Port-a-Potties because you guys aren't pooping in my front lawn. This is an upscale, gated community after all.
Oh, I know what you are thinking (obviously). I thought angels didn't need to poop. You are right, but, technically, you aren't in yet, see. About 155,000 souls per day other than you guys need to be processed, you know, and we can't just let all of you in all at once. That would be chaos.
Outside the Gate there is a limited amount of magic to go around, you understand. After the Flood we were shocked and not a little disgusted to see you guys bounce back so well and now you number roughly seven billion! In the old days we could afford a plague here, a parting of a sea there. Now though, there is so darn many of you that aside from the occasional face-in-the-tortilla gag to keep you all interested, most of the good stuff is kept inside the walls for the Grand Finale.
Anyhow, it costs about $150 per week to rent a toilet. Let's say 100 of you guys share each one (gross), that still comes out to over five billion dollars in fees alone, even if I took care of delivery Myself. And who is going to clean them, I ask you?
Some of you think that planning a church potluck for eighty is a royal pain. Thanks to my Son, food is less of a problem, but even He has His limits. Let's say he hasn't lost his touch after 2,000 years and he can still crank out loaves and fishes at the rate he could back in the day, that still means that we need to have 816,000 loaves and 340,000 fish every day for Him to have enough raw materials to start assuming you don't want leftovers. Long story short, getting every other one of you to carry a loaf of bread with you and every fifth one of you to be holding a fish at the exact moment I beam you up going to be nearly impossible. And super expensive. And make you look crazy in the meantime.
You can't have a party without music, right? Remember the golden harps I mentioned? Yeah, well, since humans have been hoarding gold recently for some reason driving the cost to nearly $1500 an ounce – thanks a lot Glenn Beck - well, you see where I am going with this. Many of you already own instruments so that will help a lot but even I am not looking forward to a multi-million member all-banjo-and-whiskey-jug orchestra cranking out “Amazing Grace” non-stop until the old Earth passes away, I tell you.
In any case, I am sure things will pick up and we will be able to accommodate you sometime next year. Let's make plans for a few days before my Son's birthday. How does December 21, 2012 work for you?
Oh... really?
Damn it.
Sincerely,
God
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