God sat at the head of a long conference table, wrinkling His brow as He studied the papers in front of Him. He looked up and addressed the archangels seated around the table.

"Okay. New business. 'The Mudcat Discussion Forum.' Seems as though their resident dissident has declared his own Day Of Reckoning. On the chosen day, certain members will be selected to follow him to the Rapture. Sound familiar? I don't mind him borrowing so heavily from Moi, but you'd think at least he'd have the decency to credit Me for the original idea. Be that as it may, this isn't necessarily a trivial matter. The vast majority of the members of that Forum represent what's supposed to happen when you throw a bunch of diverse and divergent looney tunes together into one big sandbox. They treat each other with respect and tolerance for opposing viewpoints, regardless of how different they may be from their own. They celebrate the diversity each one brings to the mix. Bottom line, they play nice, just as it was intended. There's not enough of that going on down there.

"Now, I don't like to see a good thing get mucked up. So I'm asking for a volunteer to go down there on the Appointed Day and, you know, just...oversee things and report back to Me. So, who will it be? Which one of you has got a travellin' jones?"

God waited but no one said a word. The archangels fidgeted, picked at their wingfeathers, and shot each other nervous glances.

"For Son's sakes," said God, "don't everyone jump up at once and shout, 'Oooh, Oooh, me God, pick me!'" God looked down at his roster. "Okay, I'll guess we'll have to do this the hard way. Gabriel, what about you?"

Gabriel flipped open the spit valve of his trumpet and blew a puddle of condensation onto the floor. "God, Man, like dig....I'd love to go on the road but, like, I got this real gone gig I gotta play that day, and, like, I gots to be ready to go, Daddy-o!" He launched into a swinging little Dixieland riff and finished up with some scat in his best imitation of Louis Armstrong. Everyone applauded.

"Musicians," muttered God, giving Gabriel a wary but appreciative look, "they're all born crazy. Okay, let's see, ummmm.....Michael, what've you got going that day?"

Michael consulted his Daily Planner. "Sorry, Chief," he said, "I'm scheduled to pose for another one of those religious paintings. It's not the ideal way to get the message out, I know, but any PR that doesn't have anything to do with excrement or Jim and Tammy Fay Bakker...." His voice trailed off to let his point sink in.

After a moment God said, "You're right, any good PR we can get these days we'll take. Don't forget to take your sword." He consulted His list again. "Well, now...Raphael. Your name doesn't come up very often. It says here you are a 'healer of the Earth.' You could go down and there and check on things, and while you're at it you could fix the rain forests, clean up the ground water, get rid of air pollution, fix the hole in the ozone, monitor global warming, stop clear-cutting and strip mining, eliminate oil spills and...extinction...and...." God stopped and looked at Raphael. Raphael looked like he hadn't had a good night's sleep in weeks.

"Never mind," said God, knowingly. "Not enough hours in the day, are there?" He thought for a while and then stood up.

"So no one wants to curb the free reign this dissident has to hatch his devious schemes? No one wants to protect the goodly Mudcat folk from his tirades, personal attacks, and provocations? Is it the fate of the Mudcat to be destroyed by verbal rebukes and sinister remarks?"

A seraph at God's side spoke up in the voice of Mr. Spock. "Captain, may I remind you of the Prime Directive? In this instance, I think it would be a logical and prudent course of action."

"Blast regulations, Spock!" retorted a cherub, imitating Bones. "we're not talking about an unfeeling calculating machine. This is the Mudcat!"

"If the good doctor could control his emotional outbursts," Spock replied coolly, "he would see that history proves otherwise. Think back to any controversial thread. On numerous occasions the Mudcat has been rife with dissent and adversity. There have been exchanges between members that appeared to have the power to do irreparable damage, but they didn't. It is not at all improbable that they, in fact, had the effect of strengthening the feeling of community amongst the members. The Mudcatters care far too much about their 'digital village' to allow the cyber equivalent of a graffiti vandal to inordinately interrupt the proceedings. Captain, the community will take care of itself. Let it be. Besides, remember what happened with the dinosaurs."

God looked rebukingly at the seraph. "I thought I told everyone to never mention the dinosaurs again. Enough with the dinosaurs already."

"Considering how well they've done so far, I suppose it's best to leave the Mudcatters to their own devices," God concluded. You've convinced me. They've got it within themselves to take care of things.

"On to more new business. This PokeMon thing has gotten way out of hand...."