He called me. I want to be clear about that. I didn’t call Him. He invited me up personally. Very selective crowd. Very hard ticket. I’ve met with many world leaders—Putin, Kim Jong Un, Jared—and I would say God’s in that tier. In terms of money, probably higher than most of them. We had a great table. God has tremendous clout.

Incredible gates. Strong. A lot of harp people hovering. Maybe too many, if we’re being honest. And the little fat bellhops—cherubs, they call them—wings too small for the body. Slow with luggage. I didn’t tip. The show! Better than Vegas. Volcanoes lighting up the sky, or whatever you call it. World-class earthquakes. I said, “God, I’m ashamed to admit it, but the earthquakes we have on Earth don’t compare.”

He was very complimentary. He said, “They call them Acts of God, but, after what you’ve accomplished, maybe we should start calling them Acts of President.” Which was nice. Somebody asked me before I came out here, “Was He taller than you expected?” I said, “About what I expected.”

Then God let me smite a guy trying to parallel park. Which was a very small part of the meeting, by the way. People are asking why we didn’t discuss the suffering of innocent children. It came up. I know children. His son was bullied. Good for ratings, by the way. Then we discussed important issues. Very positive discussions about clouds. I want clouds over Washington, but not the poor neighborhoods. Strong clouds. Not wispy. Some of His clouds—and I don’t want this to get beyond this room and Truth Social—were too fluffy. “Another thing, God,” I said. “You got tremendous demand up here, but everybody’s dead. Why not go members only?”

“Frankly, God,” I said, “can I be frank?” I didn’t say “regime change,” but He knew what I meant. He asked me how the Miami Marlins were doing. I think He wanted tickets. “Look,” I said, “I came here for a reason. Nobody’s saying you did a bad job, but . . .” People tell me, “Mr. President, you put the fear of God in God.” He knew I could back this up militarily. Operation I Mean It. Or, Operation I’m Not Going to Tell You Again. Or, Operation I’ll Give You Something to Cry About!

I haven’t decided yet.

While God did God things, I looked around for the gift shop. You know the thing about that place? Bad signage. I know more than He does about real estate. Don’t know who His lighting guy is, but the sun shouldn’t come down so fast. You’re outside eating dinner, and the next thing you know it’s dark.

Did I get everything? Look, when I walked in, Earth was one way. When I left? Very different conversation. Many, many historians are saying it was the most productive meeting since Zeus met with President McKinley. I can’t share everything, but I will say things are on the table that weren’t even on the floor. I can say we’re very close to getting my parking ticket validated.

His last words to me were “You know, of everyone I’ve ever created, you might be the one I’m proudest of.” I probably shouldn’t say this, but when I left He cried a little.

Update: Unnamed sources say that the Commander-in-Chief is evaluating a potential 2028 bid for God. ♦