“His voice sounding like an ocean playing a cello concerto in a black hole“, God asks a San Francisco writer to floss the debris from Oral Roberts University.
God: [“sounding like two dump trucks mating in a hailstorm”]
“So here’s the plan: I want you to write up something scathing and funny and pointed about how God visited you, in person, and you broke bread and shared a nice bottle of host’s blood or whatnot, and I told you in no uncertain terms that Richard Roberts is a world-class charlatan with a rabid case of elephantiasis of the false spirit.
“I want you to ring the alarm, raise the roof, send out an S.O.S., put a message in a bottle, whatever the hell it is you writer people do. I’m getting tired of this.”
Answering the call, Mark Morford says,
“I was, I have to say, a little taken aback.”