The Morning File doesn't pretend to know what God is thinking -- His ways have always been a mystery to us.
For instance, what purpose is served by the presence of jellyfish on the planet? We're stumped.
But then, the guess here is that humans have done some things that confuse him, too, over the 6,000 to 6 million years of our existence.
(Yes, that's a rather wide range to use, but erring on the conservative side there cuts down on the number of people calling for us to be burned at the stake. We're actually part of a cult that puts the first human descendant's arrival at precisely 3:49 p.m. on a Friday 759,461 years ago, when it decided to leave work early to get a start on the weekend.)
By now, the Earth's creator -- if that's what he did (again, not taking sides here) -- would be accustomed to all of the wars and murders and mayhem committed by humans, sometimes while invoking his name. But then there are head-scratchers like when someone runs onto the field at PNC Park to join the pierogi race, doing it in part for the glory of the Almighty.
Luke Emory Oyler, a 29-year-old from Garfield, scaled a fence at the April 2 Pirates game to run with the pierogis and ended up tackled and charged with defiant trespass. The fact that he did it wasn't as unusual as his explanation that the pierogi infiltration plan was connected to his devout belief in God.
"If my stupidity brings one person to the love of Jesus Christ, then I have served a greater purpose and the consequences are well worth it," he told a reporter.
Hmmm. So Saul, Oliver, Chester and Hannah are actually, like, apostles to help spread the good word and not just someone's twisted idea of proper entertainment at a baseball game? I'll be darned -- you could slather me with butter and eat me with a fork.
But is it any stranger than a man supposedly doing God's bidding by building a giant boat to take two of every animal on it -- even jellyfish, presumably -- with the hopes that someday Russell Crowe would play him in a movie? Who are we to judge?
God maybe doesn't watch the games at PNC Park, although he sure made it a jewel of a ballpark. Or at least Kevin McClatchy did, or HOK Sport, or some supreme stadium creator that works in mysterious and glorious ways, when there's enough public funds available to do so.
But he (God, not McClatchy) might be keeping a curious eye these days on what's going on in some laboratories in England. After all, he's allegedly got the patent on things like noses and ears and, yes, even vaginas, and now scientists across the pond are trying to steal his thunder.
Research has been published recently about body parts being grown in labs and then transplanted into people, including new outer nostrils for skin cancer patients and female genitalia for Mexican teenagers whose rare disorder denied them vaginas at birth.
It used to be that full-scale cloning of people was all the rage as either a fearsome or favorable concept for the future, depending on one's perspective or fondness for science-fiction movies. Now it seems we're on our way to getting there bit by bit, nostril by nostril, blood vessel by blood vessel.
The man-instigated growth of cells in labs is in the interest of those with deformities of various kinds, but who can say what the boundaries will be. God, in his infinite wisdom or sense of humor, decided to give most humans noses they don't like when looking in the mirror. Many of us would love to go shopping for a new one from a window display.
We see little chance that God would approve of such manipulation. Nor can we envision much tolerance from him for a credit-reporting agency that objects to his name.
Well, it wasn't really his name but that of God Gazarov of Brooklyn. He's a New York City resident and Russian native angry at Equifax because it won't recognize him as having any financial history, according to the sometimes-reliable New York Post. The company's computer system apparently won't recognize his first name as legitimate.
We're tempted to say "What in God's name is going on here?" but again, we don't want to take sides for fear of offending anyone, particularly a credit-reporting agency that presumably has a dossier on The Morning File's author somewhere within its bowels.
However, we're definitely against jellyfish and have no problem saying that. Are you reading, God (not Gazarov)?
Gary Rotstein: firstname.lastname@example.org or 412-263-1255.