Metatron

— So what do we do now?
— I say we get drunk, kids — because I'm all out of ideas.

— Were they sent to Hell?
— Worse. Wisconsin.

You people. If there isn't a movie about it, it's not worth knowing, is it?

I am a seraphim. The highest choir of angels.

— Hey. What's he like?
— God? Lonely... but funny. He's got a great sense of humor. Sex, for example. There's nothing funnier than the ridiculous faces you people make mid-coitus.
— Sex is a joke in heaven?
— The way I understand it, it's mostly a joke down here too.

Metatron acts as the voice of God. Any occasion when some yahoo claims that God has spoken to them... they're speaking to me. Or they're talking to themselves.

— So one day, Loki's wiping out all the firstborn of Egypt...
— The Tenth Plague.
— See? Tell a person you're the Metatron, they stare blankly. Mention something in a Charlton Heston movie and suddenly everybody's a theology scholar.

I hate it when people need it spelled out for them.

Human beings have neither the aural nor the psychological capacity to withstand the awesome power of God's true voice. Were you to hear it, your mind would cave in and your heart would explode. We went through five Adams before we figured that one out.

— What are you?
— I'm pissed off is what I am. Do you drench everyone who comes in here with flame-retardant chemicals. No wonder you're single.

— Well, how do I know you're an angel?
— What, aside from the fiery entrance and the expansive wingspan? You want more proof? Fine. How about tequila?
— Where the hell are we?
— Only place you can go for a good tequila. Dos tequilas, por favor, and an empty glass.
— We're in Mexico?
— Actually, we're in the franchised Mexican eatery down the street from your apartment but it's impressive nonetheless.

— When some quiet little infection destroyed my uterus, where was God? When my husband decided he couldn't be with a wife who couldn't bear children where was God? To hell with him.
— Don't allow eons of history and life to get blinked out of being just because of a grudge against your creator. So you lost the ability to make life. You're being offered the chance to play mother to the world by acting like one and protecting it. Saving it!

— What do you want with me?
— I am to charge you with a holy crusade.
— For the record, I work in an abortion clinic.
— Noah was a drunk. Look what he accomplished. And no one's asking you to build an ark.

— All this means is a redefinition of that identity. The incorporation of this new data into who you are. Be who you've always been. Just be this as well from time to time.
— Guess this means no more cheating on my taxes.
— To say the least.