Finally, after a number of beers and a number of rounds of argument between Job and his Krew, Yahweh pipes in. Or thunders in because when Yahweh speaks it is usually described as thunder or coming from a cloud, or out of a whirlwind. Like a small child, angry at having a wish denied, Yahweh is all Tone. His message is usually simple, if not simplistic, but his Covertext - what Slag and Skippy call "meta-communicative signs" - is exaggerated and elaborated. He's all glitter with little substance. Or as they say about George Bush and Cowboys like him: he's all Hat, no Cattle. So now Yahweh starts whining about running the universe and asks Job whether he ever ran a friggin' universe? In fact, he even sounds like Bush. His point that he's making - and you can just see him, 4 beers over the line, red-eyed, poking Job with a big godly forefinger in the little man's puny chest as he underscores: "I'm workin' hard here. It's tough work answering the needs of all my creations. Sometimes the little people got to take to their roofs, or cram 50,000 of themselves in a Dome. But I'm workin' hard here! Goddammit!" His entire point to Job can be summed up like this: Can't you put yourself in my place? God asks Man. And the meaning of that strange question from the Omni-Omni is chilling it its ramifications.