Are You There, God? It's Me, Bill

Look, I understand that I haven't been in a church for a while, like,  ever in this century, and I haven't said much in the way of prayers since I thought I was going to be drowned by my flippers in 3 feet of water during that Alaska trip, but I've got a real issue.  OK, like I tell the state troopers, you can give me the lecture, or give me the ticket, but don't expect me to sit through both.

What's the deal with deerflies?  What were you thinking? I get the circle of life bit, maggots, vultures and such.  I understand diarrhea flushing toxins out of the body. But what greater purpose does a vicious, carnivorous fly that's big enough to show up on radar have?  I can hear them bite me.  And I'm not even a deer.  What did I do to spend 4 months out of every year dodging the Appalachian equivalent of MIG fighters?  I mean, besides that.  And I know that you make every individual "special," in their own unique way.  Why did you make me "special" by going into anaphylactic shock every time one bites me and having the bite swell up until it resembles a rotten avocado?  Now people will think I'm "special" because I can't go outside without first showering in diesel fuel, wearing a shark-bite chain mail suit and carrying a .410 shotgun.

What was it, a little bag of leftover parts, all marked "Pure Evil"? I'm just saying, for an entity that created the female breast and ridable surf, the deerfly definitely doesn't represent very well.  You may want to consider ditching the brand, sort of like selling out from under BP.