Satan is Jack Black is Michael Cera
Picture from http://aintitcool.com
Admittedly, I rarely want to be in my husband’s head. If we feel a raindrop while sitting out on our patio, my mind will say it’s going to start sprinkling, which will remind me of sprinkles on the book cover of A Million Little Pieces, 
which will remind me of the creepy song I recently learned with the line “Liars go to hell,” which is based off a verse in Revelation 21, which will remind me of RUE 21 and some awesome embroidered hippy jeans I bought there at the height of my high school career. My husband, on the other hand, would have noticed the raindrop and then hunkered down to think about Doppler radar and waves and movement and such. Give me my train of thought over his any day.
But give me his at night while he’s dreaming. This stuff is gold. Here’s the latest:
Jack Black is Satan, gallivanting around the world and reeking havoc, as he does. But, as we all know, he’s wily and deceptive, and he has disguised himself as Michael Cera, with one of those masks that you put on your face and it morphs into a skin-tight new face. Think Scooby Doo, but in real life. It’s hard to get around the different body types here, and the believability that Jack Black is Michael Cera, but I’m not one to contribute to body image issues, so let’s leave that out. Anyway, Jack Black, i.e. Satan, i.e. Michael Cera, is gallivanting around the world and reeking havoc, as he does. Sound hopeless? Don’t worry, it’s not.
Picture from http://michaelceratheblog.files.wordpress.com.
Cut to God, hiding behind a mountain. What? Yes, a wood cut-out mountain complete with studio lighting. God is about to punk Satan. What? Yes, he’s snickering to himself and anticipating the inevitable, epic prank of Jack, Michael, Lucifer. What have you. Love it.
Unfortunately, the punk’d episode doesn’t come to fruition. The dream ends in anticipation of the punkage. Mayhap we’ll have to wait for the second coming to see the end.
If you have a problem with the parallels between God and Ashton Kutcher in this dream, or find the casting for Jack Black offensive, or theologically disagree with a God who crouches behind a cut-out mountain, don’t judge me. But you can judge my husband.