So, Sonja Shaw has conceded after a failed race to become California’s state superintendent of public instruction, noting that “I don’t know exactly what God has next, but I know He isn’t finished.”
I asked God if She’d like to offer Her thoughts on it all. She submitted this guest piece …
First, to clear this up for the 124,432,567,543,778,765,444th time, it’s she.
Second, there are people who believe I am in control of everything—and they would be correct. For I am God—the all powerful. And that is why, when she was but a girl, I noted the unfortunate satanic ways of Sonja Shaw, and had her mother “accidentally” drop her on the head in the Ralph’s parking lot at 12835 Mountain Ave. in Chino. I believed this would knock the evil out of young Sonja, but, alas, it instead brought the world a full-fledged wobegon demon child.
And you might ask, in your simple human ways, “God, why did You not fix things? For You are God.” The answer: Girl, I tried. Seven days later, I had Sonja’s mother yet again drop her daughter on the head—this time outside the Chaparral 300 bowling alley, where the lanes are smooth and the parking lot is concrete. In all My holiness, I figured this would reverse the damage, and bring young Sonja closer to goodness and compassion. The same double-drop approach had worked for many of my flock in the past, including Duran Duran lead singer Simon Le Bon, three Sturgeon Bay-based postal workers, Captain Kangaroo, the Keebler Elf, Mother Teresa, Walter Mondale and one-time Cleveland Indians slugger Gorman Thomas.
Alas, Sonja was different. Darker. Sinisterly embedded. The second drop made her increasingly rabid and wild. Less human, more like a grossly dispositioned one-eyed street raccoon. And, in that moment, I thought (again, in all My splendor) that I must—once and for all—find a way to repair this sad creature. I’d have someone drop her on the head yet again, and she would be, at long last, repaired …
At that precise moment, however, episode six of the first season of “Perfect Strangers” was set to air—the one where Balki arranges a surprise birthday party for Larry.
So, um … eh … ugh …
I forgot.
Glub.
I am God.
I am all powerful.
I created the world.
I (sigh) love network television.
After that, well, I started finding Sonja Shaw to be wildly entertaining. I know … I know. God! How could You? But the shit was really funny. The high school ham sandwich incident. That time she drank from the brown puddle. The time she took her Uncle Frank to the prom. The time she took her Uncle Frank to the prom, failing to realize one day Uncle Frank would be Aunt Francine. The time she decided to work at a gym instead of attending college. The time she wrote a fan-girl letter to Anson Williams, thinking it was Scott Baio. The time that one guy mistakenly asked her directions, and wound up imprisoned within a 25-minute rant on how the Oompa Loompas are all trans kids. The time (yesterday) she swore 2x2=17.
Life gets boring up here, even for God. Sonja Shaw has offered Me the gifts of levity and laughter; joy and schtick.
So, technically, Sonja Shaw is right—I am not finished. At the risk of providing spoilers, I have some big plans. “Sonja! The Musical”—starring Nathan Lane at The Diversionary! The Chino Trans Appreciation Parade and Festival on June 10—to mark Sonja’s birthday! Cakes shaped like boobs! Books about gay couples holding hands! And even some new super-cool hats!
Sonja, my child, God is sorry She got distracted from fixing your grotesque ways.
God, however, still loves you.
Especially when you lose.