“Hello, Angel Gabriel. How are you?”

“Not so good, Lord. I’ve been looking at that creation of yours in the Alpha Quadrant.”

“Ah, yes, Earth. What seems to be the problem?”

“I can’t help but wonder if maybe it’s time to bring down the curtain on that little lump of dirt, Lord. All they ever do is fight. No matter if it’s Ireland, the Middle East or the Secure Digital Music Initiative, all they ever do is bicker, bicker, bicker. Maybe the time has come.”

“Well, I have to admit I haven’t been watching all that closely. But it can’t be that bad, Gabriel. There has to be some good qualities left in my children of Earth.”

“I haven’t been able to find any, Lord. Give me the word and I’ll play my trumpet and close that cesspool for the good of creation.”

“Not so fast, Gabriel. Do the children of Earth still make music?”

“If you could call it that, Lord.”

“Tell me, Gabriel, who’s hot right now?”

“Well, there’s this guitar picker named Eric Clapton. He’s pretty big.”

“Ah, yes, Slowhand. Did you know that in the 60s, people often confused Eric with myself?”

“What? That’s sacrilegious! All the more reason to wipe that filthy pimple of a planet from existence.”

“Patience, my friend. Eric is one of my better creations. I broke the mold after I made him.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. For what would a world be without music? Sometimes I think you underestimate me, Gabriel. You think of your Lord as a builder of lakes, mountains and Krispy Kreme Donut Shops. But I have a special interest in my children of Earth. That’s why I gave them the gift of music.”

“You mean, like that guy from Minnesota?”

“Oh, yes, Bob Dylan. Another original. Just like Eric, Bobby is one of a kind.”

“What about Robin Trower, Martin Sexton and RX Bandits?”

“Each is unique, Gabriel. I molded each one out of the best clay. Then I broke the mold.”

“But what about…”

“Forget it, Gabriel. No matter if it’s MU330, Radiohead or Strangefolk. They are all my children.”

“But…”

“Tell you what, Gabriel. Let me look down on Earth and see what’s upsetting you. Hmmm. Who is that?”

“That’s Michael Jackson, Lord. He’s doing two shows at Madison Square Garden next month.”

“Michael Jackson? Of the Jackson 5? I hardly recognized him.”

“Did you also break the mold when you created him, Lord?”

“Oh, yes. But I was all out of modeling clay that day, Gabriel. I had to use what was handy.”

“Well, I’m sure it worked out for the best, Lord.”

“Maybe so, but that’s the last time I’ll ever use Silly Putty.”