The following is a letter to God from Muni Zubir, a self-educated nine-year-old living in a very small, very poor, very made-up country that is not America. This, of course, is not a real letter, and this boy is not a real boy. It, like God, is made up.*
Excuse me. My English is not very good many times, but lady on FOX News said that Santa Claus is white and American and so I guess God is white and American. So I will write you this letter in American English so you understand it. Yes, White God. Thank you. Oh, my name is Muni Zubir. I live in country they make Disney movies about with dancing cats. But in my country there are no dancing cats. The cats here are sad because they are hungry. They do not dance. But you know that. Because you are God.
Dear God (sorry for saying twice), what am I doing wrong with my life? I say to my sister, “Sister, I must have been a bad, bad boy in previous life, because this one is so hard.” (Even though, White American God, there is no such thing as previous life, only heaven and hell. This is what they say.) But then I see things on the TV in the store down the street and think, “That person has such a good life, for no reason.” Maybe they were a better person in the previous life that does not exist. They were good, and Muni Zubir was very, very bad. This is only reason I can think that I am here and they are there.
Like that lady with the breasts like jugs of fresh, purified water that does not make you sick when you drink it, Kate Upton. Please do not be mad that I have looked at these breasts. After all, White American God, you made them, and you do not make things that are bad, because you are God. This is what they say.
But last week I saw something that made me think that you hate me. Kate Upton was wearing a gold bikini and got to ride in something that looked like being in space. There was no gravity. Only Kate Upton and gold shoes. In this bikini, she floated in air, surrounded by people taking pictures of her while she and her giant breasts spun and spun and spun. And in this video there was very important music playing, the kind of music you play for presidents. It must be good living in America, where people have enough money to fly through space to take pictures of bathing suits and big breasts. This is a place I would like to call home. But, White American God, you made it so that I was born here, in the Land of Sad Cats, which means you must hate me.
I think you must not have received my other letters, or could not understand them because they were not written in White American English. (I have learned my lesson from FOX News now, God!) But in that letter I tell you that I make prayers to be an astronaut. One day, I saw the moon and thought, “I would like to live there. I would like to live on the cold, blue moon.” But we cannot become astronauts because our schools are not good and our teachers are not good and our country’s GDP is $500 per year. I do not know what GDP stands for, but I think it means I am not going to get to live on the moon. When tears run down my face when I think of things I cannot do with this life, my mother says that Americans can’t really go to the moon anymore either because NASA shut down the space program so the government can save money to kill people who kill people.
“See,” she says. “Life is not so unfair! No one gets to go to the moon now!”
But Kate Upton gets to feel like she goes to the moon, even though I do not think she wrote letters to God asking to be an astronaut. Kate Upton gets to feel like she goes to the moon because of those giant breasts, which I will never have because I am a boy. So cruel you are, White American God! I cannot pray hard enough for these things, even in White American English so that you understand me. I hope that what they say is wrong about heaven and hell, and that I get a next life to make up for this one, because I, the very good little boy named Muni Zubir, want nothing more than to come back as an American 20-year old girl with rich parents and big breasts. If I cannot live on the moon, this is what I want.
(Photos courtesy of Sports Illustrated)