God said to Belichick, “Sign Tebow.” Belichick didn’t reply, “Man, you must be putting me on.”

Just when it appeared as if God had ended the strange and surreal NFL journey for his second chosen son, aka Tim Tebow, the pearly gates opened today and the full-time celebrity, part-time quarterback became a New England Patriot.

Granted, the perfect place for the pious Tebow is heaven, but his time for that has not yet come.

Next best place would be the Garden of Paradise, but an apple and a serpent foreclosed that posh place.

Third best destination for Tebow is New England, the land of Bill Belichick and Tom Brady.

Belichick is just the guy to snuff the distraction of Tebowmania that has transformed Tim into a leper with most NFL franchises.

The media swells Tebowmania like a gigantic blowfish but the prickly Belichick defuses the media by essentially shoving them in the corner and ordering them to shut the hell up.

Tebow was a Christian rock star in Denver and New York. There won’t be a third act in Foxborough because Belichick has a poison ivy personality, a prickly cactus of a guy who is more fried chicken and barbecue than lobster and arugula. Hype is anathema in the Patriots’ organization.

With Brady firmly entrenched as the superstar starting quarterback in residence, any thought of a sideshow quarterback controversy developing with Tebow’s presence is as laughable as Tebow’s passing mechanics and accuracy.

Patriots offensive coordinator Josh McDaniels was the head coach in Denver, the guy who made Tebow a first-round draft pick but got fired before good-time religion and black magic enabled Tebow to lead the Broncos to an improbable playoff-win season the ensuring year.

Tebow figures to be more anonymous than Woody Allen’s barber this season, where he can toil in relative obscurity and try one last time to straighten out his convoluted and elongated throwing motion that is clumsier than an arthritic giraffe on roller skates.

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