Dear God,
We don’t know how Substack rankings work. We don’t know how weather patterns form. But we do know this:
You—you, the verified God of Substack—have delivered unto us more than a decent chance of scattered thunderstorms in Washington D.C. right on the day Donald Trump decided to throw himself a military birthday parade like a toddler with a tyrant complex. And for that? We thank you.
We thank you for the humidity.
We thank you for the flood watch currently in effect.
We thank you for every single drop of rain timed to drench a fascist podium, short-circuit a teleprompter, or send a Fox News mic into full sputter mode.
We thank you for the potential symbolism of golden balloons deflating slowly under a weeping sky.
We thank you for thunder that will hopefully drown out any speech beginning with “Nobody loves the troops more than I do.”
And above all, we thank you for your ranking—#12. Just ahead of us. A little reminder that you’re still God, and we’re just a ragtag band of troublemakers shouting from the storm drain.
We know you’re busy. Smite schedules, plague logistics, inboxes to clear. But if you’re reading this (and we know you are, because you’re omniscient and verified), we hope you’ll consider this a praise emoji in paragraph form.
Your influence is noted. Your comedy is divine.
And if you could maybe part the storm just long enough to make Trump think it’s safe, and then send it back harder? That’d be great too.
Forever in your algorithm,
— Closer to the Edge
(#13, but climbing like righteous water in Pharaoh’s basement)
This post has been syndicated from Closer to the Edge, where it was published under this address.