I don't mind

If god is a Christian, I don’t mind it at all. One can come up with much else in six days, but he could have screwed it up completely and not created the taste for junk food. I don’t care if he likes more the church odor or prefers fresh air. I don’t care if he’s levitating under the sanctuaries’ arches or is present in everything I touch. Not even if he’s in cherries and I gulp him in, sitting on a branch, as he is - with worms. He has my sympathies, if he’s not fond of Mafioso fashion of gold rings and chains, if he has it straight in his sexual orientation, and no underage sheep has to fear him. I hope he has nothing to do with showing off an old man in a glass cage, I hope he’s not squeezed in a crowd that came to see a symbol of something few understand, but the more they are bigheaded about it. Clean shaved, or thick-bearded with a Russian accent… I don’t care, just let him not be such a prig as I am.

I don’t mind, if god can speak Arabic and doesn’t like well-baked pork rib. He can’t see too much with eyes full of desert sand, but he can reliably feel that children are not born with bombs on their waist. Base, percussion, to that a good guitar, and I can sing all the worn-out religious songs with him. The subject is not substantial, no one will ever find out what is and what is not true, but the belly dancers will do me well.
If god is a Jew, I don’t mind it either. As long as he doesn’t want to cut off a piece of my skin. It’s his fault if he’s made it extra, just don’t mingle me in. I’d rather have him telling me some good first-hand anecdotes. Or let him boast about his business to me. And maybe he’s making fun of us - sitting somewhere on the top of the world with eared shaved head, and as a sworn vegetarian thinking about getting extinct not only dinosaurs, but also all other edible creatures. I don’t recommend. But never mind.
I hope he thought it all up well, and my present or future life does not rise and fall on whether I can recite the right prayers in the right order, or that I just wasn’t at home as someone “enlightened” knocked on my door, or that I wasn’t born in Asia and can’t bath in the Ganges, or that I think for myself on the immaculate conception . I will let it be a surprise, I won’t speculate, there are other people and they can get immersed into it.
I don’t mind if he exists, I don’t mind if he doesn’t. In each case, I won’t take my feet off the table, will not stand up and go argue about it. Life is exciting enough even without quarrels and warranted manuals for immortality. So please try to argue quietly. Don’t disturb me living.