KINGDOM OF HEAVEN—Hey, folks. God here. I'm writing in response to recent comments from Megan Rapinoe, a human female best known for playing the so-called sport of soccer, or "Satan's Folly" as we call it up here.

Rapinoe invoked my name on Saturday after injuring her Achilles tendon in the opening minutes of the National Women's Soccer League Championship. It was the final game of her professional career.

"I'm not a religious person or anything and if there was a God, like, this is proof that there isn't," Rapinoe told the demonic cretins you call journalists during the post-game press conference. "This is f—ed up. It’s just f—ed up. Six minutes in and I eat my Achilles."

LOL!

I knew this would happen, obviously, but that doesn't make it any less hilarious. The last game of Rapinoe's career—the league championship, no less—and she injures herself immediately then has to watch her team lose from the sidelines. I'm still laughing about it.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Yes, I technically "created" Rapinoe and "love" her the same as all my "children," even the ones who deny my existence. Even the ones who worship Satan and play soccer, to the extent there is a difference.

Nevertheless, I think we can all agree Megan Rapinoe is an obnoxious shrew who had it coming. Right? I'm willing to forgive almost anything, but one thing I simply can't abide is disrespect for my country, the United States of America. Just ask Gabe Kapler or Colin Kaepernick.

Did I take it too far? Maybe. When the U.S. women's soccer team protested the National Anthem during the World Cup earlier this year, I made sure they were humiliated by Sweden, an inferior country. I engineered it so Rapinoe, playing in her final World Cup, would contribute to the loss by whiffing a penalty kick, one of the easiest shots ever invented in the history of sports.

"That's like a sick joke," Rapinoe said after the crushing defeat. It sure was. "Sick" as in awesome.

Perhaps I should have left it at that. I genuinely thought that was the end of Rapinoe's career, and I was ready to move on. But that was before I had even heard of the National Women's Soccer League. Maybe I just refused to believe it was real. Either way, I couldn't resist the urge to rub it in by orchestrating a second final humiliation.

Sorry, Megan. What happened to you is proof I do exist.

Good luck with the retirement.

Source: The Washington Free Beacon