YOU are God! (Directions for interactive fans: nod head vigorously in agreement).

You are almighty. An Einstein. Your creative genius is simply out of this world.

(Male interactive fans beware of whiplash).

Still more. You're a genetic whiz-kid who has not merely cloned an existing being. You, dear reader, have created a brand new species all of your very own.

A bit primitive, and not very bright upstairs. And their downstairs apparatus appear to dictate most of their actions, especially as you have cleverly designed HE and SHE versions. One final tweak: you've given them free will. Better than remote-control toys which only do as they're told.

In the beginning, all is well. The cuddly critters are grateful. You love them like your own children and even when they start to grow up...even as they grow away. Recently, they've hardly bothered with you.

Some occasionally wear fancy robes and chant ancient songs to your greatness. A few actually talk to you and you delight in being their loving dad.

But the rest, well, heartbreak looms. Many are killing or crippling each other with war or wild living. They have created hell on earth and you know there's far worse to come.

You've tried everything to warn them, and now you are down to one last hope. Do you love them enough to lose your human glory and become one of them as a helpless baby creature? Could you trust them with your life and, if necessary, give your life to save them?

(Another chance for interactive fans).

The One, Almighty, beautiful and loving Creator did so 2,000 Christmases ago. Thank God!

Happy Christmas!