The Truth

The central truth of Christianity, as evidenced by certain saints and mystics, is that life on earth is pointless. Everyone gets caught up in the supernatural "But death turns out great if ..." I think that's a mistake. What gets lost in the wonderings about death and what might come after death is that human life is disappointing.

Now, the first response to a statement like that is often "Well, that person is clearly depressed. Self-medication is the answer." But that's not true. Or, if it is true, it's a natural depression, the type of depression that arises when a person realizes that spontaneous teleportation is impossible. I've had that realization. I'll never be able to blink my eyes while standing on a street in Portland and open them a second later to find myself standing in front of the Mona Lisa at the Louvre.

As I said, disappointing. I was led to believe by role models such as Elizabeth Montgomery and Barbara Eden that I might eventually attain witching powers or the abilities of a genie. No such luck. From my role models Superman and The Flash I thought perhaps I would gain the ability to leap tall buildings in a single bound or the capacity to run faster than light. Instead, I can lift a can of green beans above my head and I can outrun a turtle from my front door to the mail box. The Six Million Dollar Man gave me hope that I might be able to squeeze a villain to death in my arms with the right implanted technology. I'm still waiting for a transplant.

Yes, life has been a series of letdowns. Not one of the beautiful actresses I've seen in a romantic comedy has swooned at my feet; not a single swimsuit model has rolled around in the sand begging me to pleasure her. Very, very disappointing.

And so I'm left with the saints and mystics, wondering if maybe I've been looking in the wrong directions all my life. My fantasies now consist of wondering if I can kneel in prayer to God for days without sleep, if I can pray the rosary for hours without a sip of water, if I can self-flagellate without screaming. My goal now is to become less than human rather than more than human. After all, merely being human is of no consequence. Why would there be messages to the contrary if that wasn't the case?

Could I just sit in a chair on a porch and watch a sunset without a thought in my head? No, of course not. That's boring! No, humanity was meant to do something either more or less than that. Simply being is not enough. Something special has to be done to transcend one's humanity (or, conversely, to descend somewhere below being-as-is).

What happened before and what happens after this given moment is important. What happens now is pointless. The evidence is overwhelming. Nothing is happening right now. I've been taught that something should be happening in order for life to be meaningful. Nothing meaningful by any external standard of measurement is occurring. Therefore, life is meaningless. I'd like it to be otherwise, but that's out of my control. I've seen enough television advertisements to know that wealth, youth, and material possessions are the only things that can make a life meaningful. I am poor, I am aging, and I have few possessions. I am the meek. I heard that I would inherit the earth. I don't know what that means, but I sure as hell don't have enough storage space for such an inheritance. What am I going to do with the entirety of the earth? I don't even own a home.

Some have said Jesus will return to the earth, that he will come a second time to live amongst us, and that he will condemn the wicked and he will save the righteous. How is wickedness defined? Who is righteous? I suppose Jesus will know such things. I hope he doesn't ask me for advice. I don't know much about things like that.

I did work with a guy named Jesus once, though. He was a Mexican guy. He pronounced his name "Hay-Zeus." I liked that. He was two gods in one with just a single name: Jesus and Zeus. If powers accompanied names then he'd be a formidable force. He could sling lightning bolts with one hand then raise those he'd killed with the other. Sounds like a fun game. "Now you're dead and now you're alive; now you're dead and now you're alive. Wheeeee!" I suppose it would get boring after awhile.

But that's why they invented Xanax. The terror of boredom can be overwhelming. It's good to have a pick-me-up in order to keep going in life. I doubt I would continue collating and stapling copies day after day without putting a bullet in my brain if it weren't for such pills. I'm so grateful for pharmaceutical companies that care about my well-being. Being merely human is horrible. Being more or less is so much better.

So I've been told. Unfortunately, I've always been merely human. Could there be anything worse than that? I have friends with pets and they go on endlessly about how wonderful cats and dogs are. They love those animals. Humans? Bleh. Unreliable, they say. They don't let you pet them whenever you want; they're unhappy with subservience. Don't get me wrong: humans do stay in their places and mostly follow the rules. They just grumble about it more than pets. They expect more than pets do from their lives. They expect to become something more than an animal in captivity. Humans simply make for poor pets in individual households.

They are great pets at offices and worksites, though. They are easily conditioned to perform repetitive tasks day after day. They complain there, too, but not too much because they don't want to be punished by being fired. They're happy to be given a bone or two every couple of weeks to keep the electricity going and a roof overhead. They're happy enough to trade control of their time in exchange for a few scraps of paper now and then to trade for Hamburger Helper and a pack of smokes.

Children make good pets, though. I suppose that's why so many adult men and women have them. Adolescent men and women, too. Babies are small, they can't run away, and they make surprising noises when they poop. They can be dressed up in cute little outfits, placed in strollers as living art installations, and left alone to sleep in tiny beds. They make interesting pets until they get too big and old to be pets in a house any more. That's when they become part-time house pets and part-time school pets. When they get even bigger and even older they become workplace pets like I mentioned before. And, if they live to be really old, they become nursing home and hospital pets. As pets, humans have good lives.

But as humans, humans have meaningless lives. It's too bad. I thought something different would be possible. It's easier to be less than human, to live as a pet for the amusement and benefit of others. But I just wasn't able to live up to the ideals of being more than human I saw on the TV shows and commercials. I am clearly deficient. If I had just been able to purchase all the right products and take advantage of all the right services. If I had just been able to hang out with Norm from Cheers even once then maybe, just maybe, I'd have been able to figure it all out. I don't know how I messed up. I haven't seen an episode about why I didn't succeed. I'll keep flipping through the channels, though. There has to be an advertiser or producer who knows why my life turned out the way it did and how to make it better. I'll wait patiently until they let me know and I'll try to be a good workplace pet until then. Maybe the saints and mystics will appreciate how much I sacrifice for God, how wretched I believe myself and all of humanity is when individuals fail to be more or less than human. The good news is that in death it'll all work out. I did see a message about that on a Christian broadcast. Heaven seems like it will be better than anything else I've ever seen on TV. And that's saying something!

So, there is hope. Supposedly. I haven't found anything in the TV Guide confirming it, though.