I sat on the park bench and I asked God to reveal himself to me. And what did I see, but for a Mountain Dew bottle not made of glass, but plastic. Yes, Lord God comes to us, not down from the heavens, but up from the crust of the earth and from the tar sands and from deep, deep down in the chasms. Oil, plastic, CRUDE! Black gold! Texas tea! Hallelujah, mercy me! Yes, that is Lord. And he powers our cars and lubricates our hinges and anoints the crows of our newborns when named Vaseline. You see, he's coming up, he's coming through, he's turned into plastic, into electricity. If the oil's his blood then coal is his flesh and it’s burned to power your computer screen into your eyes. He is Google. He is Wikipedia. He is Yahoo and E-bay and Amazon. What I'm trying to tell you is that the Lord is oil made manifest. And what does the scribe do by the electric light but formulate and tinker the computer into existence. The Lord God is the progress of technology, and is he heating up the world? Is the scientists correct in the assumption that things are getting hotter and hotter? And ice cubes turn to water along with the icebergs and the rest of it raising up the water in the seas the same way it waters down your iced tea when you're sitting in the McDonald's sipping and slurping that sweet, sweet sugar from a plastic cup. The goo to make the Cola comes in plastic bags. One, two, three, don't you see? It's as obvious as can be, but the Lord is plastic. The Lord is oil. And the reason he's heating this mess up into a hot one, a real hot tamale, is to humble us. Yes, we will be driven back into the yurts and the huts and the caves, and there, with the plastic piled around us, we shall pound it and work it and sit it in the sun, let it crumble and dissolve and melt. And back into the earth it flows. Into the cracks and crevices of the stone. Once again, oil, as we toil, caveman burning the manuscripts, the rotten Stephen King novels full of filth and blood and evil to keep ourselves warm in this new utopia that is anything but a utopia to the eyes of those who've been fatted and fed on the luxuries of modern time. Plastic. Oil. Yes, it's God, but also Satan. And if you don't see how the two work entwined, then you don't even understand the metaphors in your Bibles, also burned along with Stephen King's IT. And the Fifty Shades of the Chronicles of Narnia and every stinking spy thriller and the rest. Burn it up. Feel the flame. Look into the fire and there you'll see the eye of God only visible in the dance of the devil, the flame. Choo choo choo, brother. Choo CHOO!