God visited me on October 16, 2016. I’d just settled in for my mid-morning nap when the snow-bearded deity appeared in my kitchenette.

He said “you’re gonna hafta pick between these two choices; the Cubbies winning the World Series or Donald Trump losing the presidential election. You gotta pick one or the other. You can’t have both.”

“Cubbies World Series,” I answered without hesitation.

How bat-shit crazy could Trump truly be? Surely there were enough checks and balances in Washington to keep the goofy orange baboon from bringing the country to the brink of a Korean-style nuclear barbecue, or, at the very least, a Twitter flame war with the Australian prime minister.

And this was the Cubbies World Series at stake, man. My father lived and died, my father’s father lived and died, without seeing those lovable losers do anything, other than mostly lose. One hundred and eight years. The lifespan of Andrew Jackson to hear Donald Trump tell it.

God nodded his head knowingly.  Perhaps even nonjudgmentally.

“So it shall be.”

Does this snap decision — delivered perhaps on the cusp of unconsciousness, certainly in the heat of a Cubbies post-season run — make me responsible for the current political landscape?

Thinking back, maybe it wasn’t God who visited me after all.  It could very well have been my next-door neighbor Sam Ridley, who’d also taken to cultivating a magnificent beard, though his face carpet was more Duck Dynasty, less Mount Olympus. And he was always asking me jerky hypothetical questions like “would you rather have sex with Melissa McCarthy or Rebel Wilson?”

Could the Cubbies have won their rings based solely on stellar pitching and timely hitting? Could Trump have won the presidency with only a minor email scandal and a handful of Russian collusion? Or did I set the wheels in motion seven months ago?

I don’t suppose it matters. Now Anthony Rizzo has a World Series ring and the White House harbors a dysfunctional narcissist and that’s the world we’re living in. That being said, with the government in turmoil, and, even worse, the Cubbies hovering around .500,  I’m looking to make another deal.