GOD:
Lobbing your souring grapes in my direction? They will even fall short of your own horizon and can never reach me. You aim your accusations in the wrong direction, child.
I would introduce you to my court jester, but you are not yet ready. My favored, laughing, dancing, trickster angel would take all that you have ever touched in one single nostril sniff without noticing you and your essence would become once again the stuff of stars. You will be no more.
Lob away, if it amuses you, my child, but know more when you can.