graphix: spwilcen
Triggers: This work contains coarse language, sacrilege, unpleasant attitudes toward certain vermin, and disregard for social correctness. If any part of that disturbs you, you have no business here.
“Surrogate” episodes started in 2009 as a bit of irreverent email humor to lighten the load carried by a young friend cursed with cancer. I hoped reading each installment would momentarily distract him from his struggle.
Irreverent? Yes. My protagonist engages in conversation with God, a God he has been himself disappointed in, nonetheless petitioning for divine intervention for his friend, who oddly is also struggling against a cancer.
Conversational format can be difficult for some to follow. To make it easier to determine who speaks, words from the Suprfeme are in boldface.
Lest you worry, my young friend today is in remission, has been for some time. He has won significant normalcy and already now almost fifteen years of good health with promise of a full life remaining.
“Surrogate” was originally in twelve episodes. Editing for anonymity and less aggressive irreverence leaves the work in its present state. Click the episode number for immediate access to individual episodes.
Episode I 663 words, 4 minutes; May 19, 2009; spwilcenwrites December 10, 2020
Episode II 561 words, 3 minutes; May 28, 2009; spwilcenwrites December 11, 2020
Episode III 607 words, 4 minutes; June 13, 2009; spwilcenwrites December 13, 2020
Episode IV 765 words, 4 minutes; June 17, 2009; spwilcenwrites December 15, 2020
Episode V 967 words, 5 minutes; July 5, 2009; spwilcenwrites December 10, 2020
Episode VI 654 words, 4 minutes; July 6, 2009; spwilcenwrites January 14, 2021
Episode VII 877 words, 5 minutes; July 15, 2009; spwilcenwrites September 16, 2020
Episode VIII 1051 words, 5 minutes; August 6, 2009; spwilcenwrites December 3, 2020
Episode IX 1194 words, 6 minutes; August 7, 2009; spwilcenwrites January 18, 2021
Episode X 1437 words, 8 minutes; September 6, 2009; spwilcenwrites January 19, 2021
Episode XI Unsent/unpublished
Episode XII Unsent/unpublished
Episode I
“Hey. Hey. Hey!”
“What? Oh, you again. Didn’t you just talk to me from Tennessee?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“You mean I should say ‘Yes, sir’?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“You are close to making mockery.”
“No. I am serious. ‘Sir’ is a signal of respect.”
“And…”
“Work the math or the logic or the imperturbable mysteries of eternity. This should be easy. ‘Sir’ means respect: I didn’t say, ‘Sir.’ All the pieces are there. How long have you known me?”
“Since before you were born.”
“I have to let that one go.”
“Okay. First from Tennessee and now from Georgia…”
“That’s right. I’m going to stay with it.”
“Stay with what?”
“You really don’t pay attention, do you?”
“Well, I have been busy.”
“Not busy enough.”
“You’re close again.”
“It is what it is. It’s not so much we talk. I talk. I don’t think you even listen. You never talk back. For having all the answers, you’re pretty stingy with turning loose of a few.
“I let Obama win.”
“You cursed McCain with the bimbo. That’s not even an answer.”
“Well, it was to some people and you know, well, …in mysterious ways.”
“Pu-leese.”
“That sounds like thee beseecheth…”
“Nope.”
“Damn.”
“You just swore. You know that?”
“My backyard, my football, my rules. I was hoping for a beseech. You know how long since someone has honestly beseeched?”
“Not this time. What gives? This is the most you’ve talked that I can remember.”
“It’s getting lonely. Fewer and fewer people talking to me lately.”
“Talk back. The audience will grow. Sit there like a bump and people lose interest. People lose faith.”
“Okay, Mr. Tennessee, now Mr. Georgia, what’s on your mind?”
“Jack.”
“How’s he doing?”
“You’re asking me?”
“I talk, you should listen.”
“It’s been so long, I’m out of practice. You have a book or something? Or a program?”
“Got it all up here.”
“That’s funny.”
“That’s sarcastic.”
“Yes.”
“So, what’s with Jack?”
“How about a tiny bit of help?”
“Why?”
“Because he’s gonna do it himself if you don’t jump in there.”
“He could.”
“What? Why?”
“Because he has faith.”
“Not in you. In himself. In things physical and metaphysical. He’s gonna make his own rules.”
“It’s a start. The faith part. The ‘in himself’ part. He starts figuring out the physical part, I’ll scramble things up.”
“Wouldn’t this be a really good time to nudge just a tiny bit?”
“Why?”
“For one with all the answers, you ask a lot of questions.”
“Blame Freud.”
“Nothing doing. Freud was a dink with talent for stating the obvious couched in gobbledygook that made it sound like he really understood more than anyone else.”
“There’s that mockery thing again. You’re close. Just this close.”
“To what?”
“Don’t push…”
“So, Jack needs a breather. He’s tough and resilient. You want him to get all the credit for beating this thing?”
“I gave the doctors skills and knowledge.”
“Poop. All you gave the doctors is large fees, Wednesday golf, Mercedes, and egos.”
“So, Jack can have an ego.”
“He doesn’t need an ego. He needs a break here.”
“How about a Mercedes?”
“He likes Mustangs.”
“Good car. I told Lee…”
“No…”
“I did so; I told Lee…”
“Don’t care.”
“What?”
“The questions again. This is easy. Jack needs a break. First, he needs some peace with this so he can marshal-up all the strength he has to make this thing leave. Then he needs a little help getting back to normal again.”
“We talking about the same Jack?”
“Yes, in New Hampshire.”
“Normal?”
“The questions again. You know all this. Jump in here. If it bothers you, I won’t tell him it was you. We’ll let it go and see if his ego can tolerate his wit.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Don’t ignore me. I’ll be back.”
“Not tonight?”
“Maybe. Why not?”
“I bowl tonight. Every other Tuesday in Alabama.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll catch you later.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Alabama.”
“Hey! Hey. Hey?”
Episode II
“Hey.”
“Yes.”
“Pretty quick response. What gives?”
“Fish weren’t biting.”
“You fish?”
“Don’t go there.”
“Okay. I have news of Jack.”
“That would be Jack Y of New Hampshire?
“Yes.”
“Feisty bastard.”
“Well, the surgery had no complications I’ve been told of and the doc said he didn’t see anything beyond what he went after.”
“Good. Are you saying ‘Thanks?’”
“Mrs. Jack said something about he didn’t even need blood.”
“He could have given blood. All that healthy crap he eats. Thanks?”
“It’s his lifestyle. It’s what he does to wage war against the forces of time and disease against him – against us all. And yes, thank you. A lot.”
“Steak is good. Pork. Fish.”
“You eat pork?
“I created everything to a purpose. What else is a pig good for?”
“But the Jewish people, the chosen ones?”
“Their words not mine. Their rules, not mine.”
“They had it on ‘reliable’ sources. Didn’t you rename Ishmael to Israel after he wrestled with you?”
“That was Jacob. Another tough bastard. Off day for me. This thing about the shrunken muscle. Pure crap. Good press; stupid reasoning.”
“So. Well, anyway, they believe themselves to have the inside track and you gave them the word with no priest to intercede.”
“Not really. Men had a funny habit of writing it down as they heard it, not as I meant it. You’re all still mucking it up.”
“So, you came up with Aaron and all the other priests?”
“Another idea gone south. They’re not any better. Duh. They’re after all, mortal.”
“Wait. Good? What good? What do you mean, “Good?””
“Oh. Jack. Good to know.”
“But you already knew. Didn’t you?”
“There’s that free will thing. Need I explain?”
“Doesn’t that take it to the extreme?”
“Depends on your perspective. Now from here, there is no such thing as extreme.”
“So, with this ‘free will’ and ‘choice’ we, we being mankind, we mortals, can do anything?”
“I set limits. I start to feel uncomfortable, I slow things down a bit. War is good for that. Well, on the other hand sometimes that backfires.”
“Jack knew this? Jack knew about this innate ability? Wow.”
“Jack didn’t know. He hoped. He prayed. He worked. He chose.”
“Said he didn’t. Pray.”
“Ah, but he did, each in his own way. Oh, there’s a nice one just jumped over in Lake Snead. Maybe I can get her to bite.”
“Her? Bite? Why don’t you just, I dunno, will something or other and not waste time fishing?”
“Why create all this and not enjoy? It’s sport. It’s, oh, in terms you can only begin to understand, some of that ‘free will’ thing.”
“Okay. While I got you…”
“Gotta go. Sun’s setting on the lake.”
“It’s two in the afternoon.”
“Lake Snead. Scotland. Beautiful place. I wonder. A Parachute Green Mayfly?”
“Oh. Yeah. All seeing. All knowing. Try a Wulff Gray Whisker Mayfly.”
“Scotland, you dummy. Lake. Get that? Lake Snead. Slow water.”
“Oh.”
“Tell Jack: fish is good, but so is steak. And potatoes. And chocolate. A cigar. And, well, he’ll catch on.”
“Can I tell him I have it on good authority? Cigar?”
“The best, the only authority. And a good cigar is, well, a good ending to a great day, a good day, or even a terrible day.”
“Good luck.”
“ “
“Fishing, I mean.”
“ ”
“Hey?”
Episode III
“Hey.”
“ ”
“Hey!”
“Sir?”
“What’s that? That a bit of respect, there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What gives? You got a ‘biggie’ in the works?”
“No, sir. I mean you called me. I usually have to dial out. This line never rings in. I’m stunned. Something bad for me?”
“No, not today. Remember, you started this.”
“Well, no; you look at it carefully, you started it. You hadn’t sneezed I wouldn’t be here.”
“Metaphysical crap. How’s Jack?”
“Sir?”
“Jack Y. You know, the gumball in New Hampshire.”
“I’m aware. This must be that ‘free will’ thing again. He’s progressing. Setting goals. Pushing the envelope. Says he has some trouble sleeping.”
“Tell him to slow down. Breathe deep. See if he can tell roses from carnations. Sleep. That’s a tough one. I have trouble sometimes, too.”
“You?”
“Yup.”
“Sleep?”
“During the creation I worked hard. That was a long time ago and I was younger and full of piss. Still, after ‘the firmaments’ well, I do get tired and I do rest.”
“Rest. Sure, but sleep?”
Semantics. You and Jack play that game all the time.”
“Well, Jack. You asked. Has a list of things he wants to do.”
“Don’t we all? You wanna hear my list?”
“Not things he wants. Things he wants to do.”
“Don’t ignore my question – we’ll get to my list and I’ll put some of my list on your list. What’s Gumball Jack want?”
“He has that list you could read it, and…”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, okay. … Yeah, good things. Except that hockey thing.”
“You’re fast. That’s amazing.”
“Yes, it is. Good you noticed.”
“Not a fan of hockey?”
“You play hockey on ice.”
“So?”
“Ice. Ice suggests cold. At least where you have your feet balanced on slivers of silver. That’s stupid too.”
“You don’t like the cold so why is so much of creation so cold?”
“You mean like (snicker) space?”
“Yes, like space.”
“You grasp the concept of good and evil, Yin and Yang, sweet and sour? By the way, hell is a big place.”
“Good and evil, yes; if there is not one, it’s impossible to recognize the other and then it becomes a philosopher’s quest – ‘Does good exist if there is no evil?’”
“Precisely.”
“But so much space, what astrophysicists say is filled with nothing – no air, no heat, no motion of anything.”
“Used to say. You can’t see a lot from where you are. Vast needs some redefinition. It’s about fifty-fifty when you understand it all; if you get up here, you’ll see. And space as you call it is really not empty. Astrophysicists… like doctors.”
“You’re not a fan of any class of people, are you?”
“I’m a fan of people, some more than others. But some classes start to feel that education or money or good looks or whimsical idolization by teen females make their class special.”
“Astrophysicists and nubile groupies – not a natural pairing.”
“Concept. Try to keep up. We’re not talking concrete here, we’re talking concept.”
“I personally admire astrophysicists and quantum physicists.”
“How do you think neutrinos get from place to place – that puts them ‘in space,’ so space is not ‘empty,’ right? And what about quaxons?”
“What?”
“Oops – that’s next year.”
“Quaxons. I’ll have to remember that. Your years – like a thousand years, or our years, like, well, like our year?”
“What?”
“The Bible. ‘His day is as a thousand years.’ Or some such.”
“You really have to stop throwing that bible thing in my face.”
“The word of God.”
“Bullshit.”
“’If?’ What do you mean, ‘If?’”
“ ”
“You said, ‘If I get up there.’”
“ ”
“Hey!”
“ ”
“Shit.”
Episode IV
“First, you have to realize it’s not ‘up here.’”
“What?”
“Heaven. Or your imagining of heaven.”
“Oh, hello. I thought that was me talking to me, there. How are you?”
“I’m wonderful beyond your understanding. Thanks for asking.”
“So heaven’s not up? Where is it?”
“Umm. That’s impossible for you to understand, but it’s not really up. Imagine space.”
“Impossible? Nothing is impossible for you.”
“I said impossible for you to understand. Not impossible for me to explain.”
“But if you explained I wouldn’t understand? So it’s impossible for you to explain it so I could understand?”
“You’re pushing again. That’s the riddle of the ages. I can explain that too.”
“But not so I would understand?”
“If I didn’t find you mildly amusing, and didn’t take small pleasure in messing with you, I’d make a new rule here.”
“I apologize. It’s just it seems I could get the answers if I asked the right questions. So, okay, I picture space.”
“Big place. Nice place, but cold.”
“I’ll take your word for that.”
“How nice. Refreshing, actually. Well, heaven is not up any more than space is up. Oh, and hell, that’s another really big place. It’s not hot. Hell, that is.”
“Can’t be as bad as the bible-thumpers paint it then.”
“No.”
“Aha!”
“Worse. But not hot. You might come to understand I like warmth. But again, it’s not cold either. It’s miserable. It’s just, well, hell.”
“Well, you understand then why I was thinking your opening remark could have been my mind messing with me.”
“It’s a flawed instrument. Your mind. Man’s mind. Not necessarily yours in particular. Maybe. Anyway, that’s why I’m here.”
“Well, your knowing tomorrow’s news and all, and saying ‘If’ I ‘get up’ there.”
“Yes?”
“That’s scary.”
“Good. I am awesome. Don’t you think?”
“A hint, maybe?”
“So you’d know the final score and figure maybe ‘what’s the point?’ and stop your infrequent attempts to be less, oh, let’s use your word, wicked? Or is it ‘sinful?’”
“Either one. Probably.”
“My point. Worry about it a while. Anyway, heaven, as you call it, is not up. And it’s big. Not as big as hell, but big.”
“Bigger than space?”
“Indeed.”
“And not here?”
“Here?”
“You play with me.”
“(Snicker) Playing, if you will, the devil’s advocate.”
“You have a sense of humor.”
“I have to.”
“Double whammy. A joke and tossing in the will concept.”
“No joke. I don’t joke. But I do have a sense of humor. Look at the platypus.”
“Strange beast. What were you going for there?”
“I don’t remember. Realize there are a lot of distractions to deal with.”
“Um, yeah. So. Heaven is bigger than space. That seems unnecessary – space could hold all there ever was of mankind and all there ever will be.”
“What? You think you’re the only game in town?”
“We’re not alone? Mankind?”
“Never have been. Weren’t first either.”
“Holy cow!
“No such animal. Platypus, yes. Holy cow, no.”
“Oh, by the way, Jack is doing well.”
“I know that.”
“I know that.”
“No, you don’t. Your doubts are legend. Gabe and I were talking the other day and…”
“You don’t make it easy not to have doubts. Your rules are arbitrary…”
“Arbitrary?”
“Yes. For example, ‘Pray to the father thus…’”
“Source?”
“The bible. Your bible.”
“I’m not going to tell you again. Not mine.”
“Well, never mind then, if this is a case of the scribes sitting down and…”
“Dogma. Why would I restrict supplications to a defined form? Look at all the wonderful variety I’ve scattered around. Does that even suggest it proper to bore me with the same standard prayer for health, a different standard prayer for prosperity, one standard prayer for ‘deliverance from mine enemies’?”
“No.”
“Damn straight. Form letters. Don’t need’m. “
“Maybe that’s why you seem to lose interest in what’s going on.”
“I dunno, could be. What do you think?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think.”
“Oh, but it does. It does. It only stops mattering what you think when you think what you think doesn’t matter.”
“Free will again?”
“No. Don’t wear this free will thing out. You have a lot more latitude than you realize. Thought, will, spirit, power over your immediate destiny.”
“Me?”
“Mankind. Say, what’d you have for lunch today?”
“Tuna sandwich. Pickle. Glass of iced tea.”
“Yuk. I think I’ll have an anchovy pizza and a cold beer.”
“Ha! That must be a bit of humor there. You? A pizza? A beer?”
“ ”
“Pizza?”
“ ”
“Cold beer?”
“ ”
“Does sound better than a tuna sandwich…”
Episode V
“Because your last name doesn’t start with ‘K’.”
“What?”
“Because your last name doesn’t start with ‘K’.”
“Don’t do that!”
“ ”
“ ? “
“ ! ”
“Sir.”
“Better.”
“Man, you gotta quit sneaking up on me like that!”
“Keeps the heart moving.”
“Mmmphf. My last name?”
“Doesn’t begin with ‘K’.”
“I’m glad you pointed that out. Whatsat supposed to mean?”
“You can’t play guitar.”
“Oh. Hello. I know that. That I can’t play guitar. What does that mean?”
“All the great guitar players’ last names start with ‘K’. King, Kottke, Klapton, Knopfler.”
“So?”
“So you were wondering why you never could get the guitar down.”
“Yes, I know that.”
“And I’m telling you it’s because your last name doesn’t begin with ‘K’. Like B.B. King, Eric Klapton, Mark Knopfler, Leo Kottke.”
“Clapton begins with ‘C’.”
“Not supposed to. Supposed to be with a ‘K’.”
“That’ stupid. Lot of folks think Les Paul was pretty good. And whatshisname – Hendricks.”
“Careful… Hendricks was a technician, mostly he just made noise. He’d been any good his name woulda been Kendricks.”
“And Les Paul?”
“He was supposed to be an opera tenor.”
“Hell, he ain’t even Italian! Unh, pardon.”
“Okay. I do it all the time. Les Paul was supposed to be Italian. What it was, was, there was a guy in Palermo, Parmicci, took his amica out one night… too much Chianti… well, it’s sometimes a matter of timing. Les woulda been the greatest tenor. Better than Caruso. You think he was a good axeman, if only… ah well.”
“Go figger.”
“Yeah. The kid, the Wop, moved to Venice and became a gondolier. Wowed’m for a number of years, seen by a guy from Milan. Like his dad, too much Chianti the night before he left to audition. Slipped. Well. Anyway, Les Paul was supposed to be Leonardo Parmicci, got bumped outta line one spot, became Les Paul. But he had an ear and a knack. And, well, look, even then he was pretty damned good.”
“Damned?”
“It happens. We’re buddies. Cut me some slack. Tenors, C’s and P’s. Guitar, K’s.”
“So I should ditch the guitar?”
“I would. I mean if I were you. Oh, hey. You can’t sing either.”
“Well… Make a joyful noise…”
“Bullshit! Some of that caterwauling hurts my ears.”
“All those little old ladies and those men who flunked Barbershop…”
“I’d rather listen to the Village Smithy pound an anvil. I appreciate you don’t sing in church.”
“I realize I can’t. Sing.”
“You’re telling me.”
“No digs on not being in church more often?”
“Nah.”
“Why not?”
“Church is fairly well taken over by rig-a-ma-role. Not much time spent ‘communicating.’”
“All this about ‘two or more are gathered…’”
“Crap. Source. I stick my nose in wherever, whenever I want.”
“You got a reputation for not listening.”
“Don’t you put a lot of stock in that.”
“Why not?”
“Just because I don’t answer the way you want doesn’t mean I don’t listen.”
“Mmm.”
“Well, sometimes you don’t even ask the right questions.”
“I don’t ask a lot. Mostly I just say look in on so-and-so and thanks for the meal and the nice rain.”
“Not you, Nudnik; like you, you, like in you people – mankind.”
“Kind of flies in the face of free will and all that doesn’t it?”
“You know, sometimes you just wear me out.”
“My parents probably thought so too.”
“Yeah but they had tangible punishment and rewards. Stuff you could see and tell right away it was them dishing-out.”
“You don’t? I mean if you don’t, we really gotta spend some time kickin this around.”
“I have really good rewards and punishment, but you – mankind you again – don’t recognize them.”
“Like?”
“Like the time your Chevy broke down right after you replaced the starter ring and were driving to pick up Sue Wojowicz for a date.”
“That was you?”
“Yup.”
“Why?”
“I knew what you had in mind and it wasn’t time.”
“I thought so. Free will.”
“Yours, and Sue’s.”
“Oh.”
“Mighta been okay for you, not for Sue.”
“She ended up with eight kids!”
“See? And that’s after a late start. Probably wouldn’t have been good for you either.”
“Maybe you’d get better press if you made it known it was you and not fate, or chance or dumb luck.”
“Or the devil?”
“Yeah, that too.”
“Hmm. Like how, ‘Telegram for Chip Dingus: your leg was broken because you were thinking of tipping that outhouse’?”
“Well, no, I was thinking…”
“Clap of thunder, stroke of lightning?’
“Boy that’d do it. Then a deep voice coming from mysterious crimson clouds…”
“Theatrics. Crimson clouds? That has possibilities.”
“Man, there’d be a lot of wet britches.”
“And smocks.”
“Oh. Yeah, I suppose. Women as bad as men?”
“Oh, you really don’t want to know.”
“Yeah, I might.”
“Nah. Anyway, it didn’t work with Moses. Well it did, but as soon as things got back to normal, couple hundred years – no recollection at all. ‘Tradition.’ ‘Legend.’ Crap.”
“Moses was one of the really good guys!”
“Yeah, more or less.”
“Saul of Tarsus?”
“Thick. You know how long I worked on that boy?”
“Maybe you just need to go with a good “Zap!” and then once you’ve got their, um our, attention, drop the bomb?”
“Tried it. You are all pretty damned dense.”
“So you give up?”
“Nope. Just subtlety. You can’t get the message, well…”
“Free will again?”
“Kinda. Well, no. Well, yes. Intelligence too.”
“We try. I try.”
“Besides, I have a sense of humor.”
“I always thought so. I tell people, ‘You know, I’m sure god has a sense of humor,’ expecting them to ask me…”
“Did you see that? No, of course you didn’t. Well I’ll be. That’s not right.”
“What’s not right?”
“ ”
“What happened?”
“ ”
“Nuts.”
Episode VI
“Yo.”
“ ”
“Yo!”
“What? Yo?”
“Yo. I’m here. Let’s talk.”
“Yo. Yo, indeed. So?”
“Trendy huh?”
“Not trendy.”
“It is trendy.”
“It’s not. And not for you, especially. Trendy doesn’t look good on you.”
“Well, I gotta do something.”
“To do what?”
“To up my ratings.”
“You don’t need ratings.”
“People gotta stop all the gimme this gimme that. Start listening.”
“And?”
“And start doing things. Get a suitcase.”
“Get a grip? Suitcase; handle; grip?”
“Yeah, grip.”
“You don’t need ratings. You want attention, bust some ass.”
“Radical.”
“Is that “trendy” again?”
“What?”
“Radical.”
“Not intentionally.”
“Good rap on the knuckles. Couple of times. You’ll get attention.”
“Yeah?”
“I think this economic thing is a good start.”
“Not mine.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, his.”
“Oh.”
“ ”
“You could step in.”
“You asking?”
“Well, it’s getting ugly.”
“Ugly never hurt anyone.”
“Yeah, but the little guys…”
“All the minions he placed are eventually going to screw it up and it’ll die like a bad fart.”
“Yeah, and all the biggies will be that much better off.”
“No.”
“No?”
“They screw up don’t get the job done, he calls’m back pulls their seniority and they ride deep in shit for a long time.”
“Well, I guess that’s good news.”
“Nah. It’s only temporary, he’ll come up with something else.”
“Cheery.”
“So.”
“So what?”
“What’d you want?”
“You gotta stop that.”
“Something’s bugging you. You’re off your feed.”
“Actually. I’ve gained five pounds.”
“Figger of speech. You’re bent.”
“Bent?”
“Troubled.”
“Well, you know.”
“Yes, I do.”
“So?”
“So spill it.”
“Isn’t that inefficient? You know and I have to explain and ask and then we get to the bones?”
“You have to see the problem to understand it. When you say it, you see the words. It’s real, not a wisp of smoke from autumn leaves.”
“Then I solve my own problems? That’s slick.”
“I am awesome.”
“What, “awesome”?”
“You know. Cool. Happening. The bomb.”
“No. You’re not that ‘awesome.’”
“What?”
“Not that kind of awesome. Awesome as the youngsters use it means nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Yup. They can’t think of anything else to say about something, can’t think of meaningful words to describe the beauty, ferocity, uniqueness, or wonder of something, they just call it “awesome” so everyone will know they think it’s good stuff when really everyone knows they really don’t give a shit one way or another about it.”
“Never say “awesome” when they really like something?”
“No.”
“Or when it really is awesome?”
“Oh, yeah, probably, but then because they’re too damned lazy to invest brain power in an original and more accurate description. Or they can’t.”
Pity.
“Then there’s to root meaning of the word… ‘Dumbstruck fear.’”
“Like ‘fear of God?’”
“None other.”
“Yeah. I like that: fear of God.”
“No, these boobs go to church, penny-fill the collection plate, and figger they’re heaven-bound. In the door and contribute; it’s like they buy insurance and if you don’t deliver, they’ll just sue your ass.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“As sure as I am about the bubble-headed way girls and some women talk, raising their voices at the end of a sentence as if their vocal cords just swooped up a skateboard ramp.”
“California-girl talk?”
“Yep.”
“Crap.”
“Just so you don’t blow a gasket, you are awesome. But first we have to purify the word. It’s like everything else youth picks up and wears out. Trivialized. Cheapened. They want so much to show how unique they are, they do what everyone else does, throwing away every breath of individuality they had.”
“I’m out of time right now.”
“How about my stuff? Might be good to kick it around some.”
“We’ll have to sit down over a couple of beers next time and get to serious stuff.”
“You and me?”
“Who am I talking to, your shoes?”
“A couple of beers?”
“You’re buying.”
“Super! How about next Friday night?”
“ ”
“Saturday?”
“ ”
“…Awesome.”
Episode VII
“You know what this is?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“You don’t know?”
“I do. Do you?”
“It’s a dead chipmunk.”
“Yes. A dead chipmunk. You killed it. “
“Yes, I did.”
“You admit it?”
“Yes. Would I lie to you?”
“Some try.”
“Some have not felt your breath on their necks.”
“What good is a dead chipmunk?”
“Infinitely more than a live chipmunk.”
“Do you have any idea…”
“Don’t start that ‘all creatures’ crap with me today.”
“If I didn’t find you amusing…”
“I’d be dead.”
“Well, or worse.”
“Like the chipmunk.”
“Yes. Good example. A strange stretch, but a good example.”
“Yes, an excellent example. Stay with me here. I entertain you – you find me ‘amusing’?”
“Yes. I’ve given that.”
“I serve a worthwhile purpose? To you? For you?”
“You’re going somewhere with this?”
“Um-hm. If I wasn’t amusing, if I was in fact detrimental to your purposes, you’d…”
“Squash you like a bug!”
“Or like a damned chipmunk, that digs holes under the pad for my air-conditioner, chews up my tomatoes, drills tunnels alongside the foundation of my house?”
“It’s a defenseless animal!”
“Defenseless perhaps, but harmless, no. There’s a whole forest not seventy yards from the house. More food there than here.”
“And foxes, and hawks, and snakes.”
“The foxes don’t bother me. I’ll get to the snakes, but they can stay until I get all the chipmunks. And rabbits. Then the snakes will have sense enough to leave. Snake’s brain bigger than a chipmunk’s?”
“But the chipmunk feels safe from foxes and hawks near your house.”
“Not safe from me. Little bastards. I’m gonna get every damned one of’m. Five so far.”
“Five!?”
“You betcha. And four rabbits.”
“Thumper? Four little Thumpers?”
“Three little ones and one big one. Little bastards won’t eat grass, they want to eat green beans and lettuce and tomatoes.”
“Aw, man! “
“Your rules. Dominion over the heavens… “
“Me.”
“Dominion over the earth…”
“Adam ‘til the apple thing. Well that’s how it got written down, you want to hear the real story?”
“No. Well, yes, maybe later. After Adam, Lucifer, and he’s made it quite a bit of hell, with all the itches and grotesque disfigurations, festering, puss-oozing boils, and diseases, and ‘all creatures’ no longer to your purpose but pitted one against the other.”
“Point?”
“It’s ugly and it hurts and anything I can do to alleviate pain, make it easier for me, I’ll do it.”
“Killing chipmunks?”
“Yup.”
“And rabbits?”
“When I can.”
“And what else?”
“Whatever I can.”
“For mankind?”
“I used to. Not anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Most of my ‘fellow’ men rate somewhere below your dead chipmunk.”
“ ! ”
“ ”
“You don’t mean that?”
“I do.”
“You’d do’m in?”
“Most of them no. Not worth the trouble. Some, yes.”
“But you haven’t. Why not?”
“Mankind has rules and mankind is a lot swifter with punishment than you.”
“Swifter, maybe but not more terrible.”
“Dead is dead. We, we being mankind, can’t see beyond death.”
“But the punishments are – you’ll have to excuse me – awesome!”
“So give a sneak peek.”
“What?”
“Whatever Moses or Mohammed or Buddah, or Vishnu or the jerk in Utah wrote down ain’t getting the job done. We don’t believe in hell. Some idiot, also a man, you’ve noticed I wonder, I have, postulates from the pulpit and it’s all just showmanship. And even Aunt Bea knows it.”
“But hell is terrible!”
“So is Ebola. AIDS. Poverty. Greed. Cancer. Reality television. You can’t expect us to believe you can do worse than that in hell? We’ve got hell here. It’s a tough act to follow.”
“But hell is forever!”
“Prove it.”
“Oh. Reality television. Slipped that in there. Humor?”
“Humor.”
“So I have to open the window and let mankind see what hell is all about?”
“Well, that or let him understand eternity. Then hell, hell forever, might be scary.”
“I’ll think on it.”
“Can’t just let one man know it and expect him to tell everyone else.”
“Trust?”
“Trust. Or lack of trust. Or trust that every man has lied, is lying and will lie for his own good or gain or advantage or whatever.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a cynic?”
“Cynic. Asshole. Son-ova-bitch.”
“You’re not, really.”
“Yeah, I probably am.”
“Gonna stop killing chipmunks?”
“You gonna send’m to the woods?”
“No. “
“Free will for chipmunks.”
“You’ll pay. There’ll be an accounting.”
“Now. Later.”
“Later is forever. Rabbits?”
“Woods?”
“Tough case.”
“Tell you what. Put the hawks on overtime. Have the hawks and foxes do their job, then…”
“Nice try, but there’s a balance. Some of the chipmunks and rabbits and squirrels and…”
“Squirrels! I forgot the damned squirrels!”
“I knew, but chipmunks and rabbits made my case.”
“Didn’t.”
“Did. You just don’t realize it yet.”
“I need the ‘peek’ into ‘eternity,’ otherwise…”
“Gotta go. Bunch of bellyaching in Alaska about early snow. We’ll have to pick this up later. You’re almost as far off here as you are about this sex thing.”
“Unh. You really have my attention now. What about sex?”
“ ”
“Not now, I have some real questions here. “
“ ”
“Hey. Just a hairy minute! Wanna trade for the chipmunks?”
“ ”
“Chipmunks and the rabbits?”
“ ”
“Fuck.”
Episode VIII
“…that’ll fix the bastards. I’ll put up with a lot but there comes a time I’ve had enough!”
“ ”
“Busy?”
“ ”
“Hey. Hey!”
“Sir?”
“Busy?”
“For you, I’ve got time. I’ll make time.”
“You’re not going to ask what I was just talking about?”
“No.”
“The ‘bastards’?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You’d just confuse me.”
“Your loss. Where’d we leave off?”
“Sex. You suggested I was ‘way off’ about sex.”
“Not you, you.”
“Ah.”
“Mankind you.”
“Ah.”
“Men mostly.”
“Ah.”
“Women, too.”
“Ah.”
“You, too.”
“Ah.”
“If all I get is ‘ah,’ this is gonna be a short conversation.”
“Ah.”
“Stop it, dammit.”
“Okay.”
“Where were we?”
“Sex. Tough to just jump right in.”
“Why?”
“All the taboos.”
“Your doing.”
“Mine?”
“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. There’s mankind ‘you,’ and there’s you you. When I mean mankind, I’ll say ‘mankind.’ Or ‘man.’ When I mean you you, I’ll say ‘you.’”
“Fair enough.”
“Always. Now. Sex.”
“So many rules on how, when, even rules against it outright.”
“Stupid.”
“Stupid?”
“Sure. Sex is like food. Sex is food of sorts. Necessary. Pleasurable.”
“Food?”
“In your limited understanding, yup.”
“Your me, mine, or your, mankind?”
“Both.”
“I try, honest-to-god, I try.”
“ ”
“You chuckled.”
“Yes. I did, didn’t I?”
“I could get to like you when you’re like this, I really could.”
“You do. Already.”
“No, that’s more a fear thing you’ve got going.”
“I understand.”
“‘Like’ you because, well the alternatives are not wonderful.”
“And?”
“And this, I mean hearing you chuckle, it makes me almost…”
“Comfortable?”
“Yeah. I could get used to that.”
“Don’t.”
“Okay. Sex? Food?”
“Go on.”
“Alright, the Jews, Muslims, Hindi have all these rules about food.”
“Old Testament. And, um, other works of fiction.”
“Rules came from somewhere.”
“Was a time it was for health reasons.”
“Now?”
“Not so much. But they’re comfortable.” Jews, Hindi. For them it’s a focus.”
“Baptists?”
“Yeah, less so – tight asses.”
“So, I see. Food. Sex. Parallels. ‘Forbidden fruit.’”
“Yes and no.”
“Kisses sweeter than wine?”
“Nice song. No eternal truth.”
“I’m really confused.”
“You usually are. Take the apple of the tree of knowledge.”
“Original sin.”
“Good. Now try to keep up.”
“Do my best.”
“First, I can’t get anything but ‘Ah,’ and now I have a chatterbox. Shut up.”
“ ”
“Apple had nothing to do with it.”
“But Genesis… Oh, yeah… Source.”
“Right. You want to get a moral across you do something like “Three Little Hogs.”
“Pigs.”
“Pigs. Hogs. Morchufka.”
“Morchufla?”
“You see that star over there? Never mind. Of course you can’t see that star.”
“Apple?”
“What it was was, Adam and Eve had a pretty good meal, were looking for dessert. Adam wanted a banana. Eve wanted a pear. They settled on an apple.”
“The apple of wisdom.”
“Bullshit. It was an apple. Just an apple. An apple is no smarter than a pear a grape or mankind.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you?”
“Mankind.”
“I’m adjusting.”
“But it was your apple and you were sore because they ate your apple.”
“No. I was angry because they ate the damned snake for dinner.”
“The serpent was forbidden?”
“Nah. It was stupid, but they didn’t invite me. That made me sore.”
“So you kicked them out of the garden!”
“No. I’m reasonable. I know what you’re thinking, but I’m reasonable.”
“Ah.”
“Stop. We talked about it. Adam and me. Adam was flawed – he was the first go – he was working with me there. Eve was adamant – now there’s a word for ya – work on that one – wouldn’t move. The first snake was a pretty good piece. Later efforts not so good.”
“The problem?”
“With the second snake or with Eve?”
“With Eve.”
“Problem was Eve got pissy.”
“Sounds like she was flawed, too.”
“No. Pretty good work, that, but there’s your ‘free will’ again.”
“She pissed you off.”
“You think women now are pushy, Eve was the mother of them all.”
“So you punished them.”
“Yeah. Tossed their butts.”
“And that’s the original sin.”
“No. The original sin – if that’s the best you can do for naming it – was they wouldn’t understand and never tried to make it right. No contrition.”
“So mankind never can go back?”
“I have to ask why you’d want to, but no. Not now.”
“Then?”
“I’m nothing if not forgiving. And fair.”
“Wait a minute…”
“No, I know what’s coming and you’re wrong.”
“Um-hm.”
“You are. Anyway, too many stupid ideas about food.”
“Especially of late.”
“Especially of late. What’s with tofu hamburgers?”
“Healthy.”
“Nope.”
“Red meat is good? I mean, red meat is good, but is it good?”
“Damn straight.”
“Cholesterol?”
“That’s necessary.”
“But the doctors…”
“Almost a chuckle. Doctors don’t know but what I let them know and they aren’t any better than priests for sticking with the truth. How many times has coffee been good for you, bad for you, good for you? Moderation. Flip side to Free Will.”
“Eating bugs?”
“Escargot?”
“Goats?”
“Eat cheese?”
“Mold, spoilage, unclean?”
“Eat cheese? Sauerkraut? Drink wine? Whiskey?”
“Liquor?”
“Different subject, but a grape’s a grape, wheat is wheat, corn is corn.”
“Eat dirt?”
“Mineral supplements?”
“I’m sure there are others, but I’m at a loss.”
“Sure. Consider this: at one time, tomatoes were considered poison.”
“No!”
“Yup. Mankind needs time to learn. Sometimes to unlearn.”
“He should live so long.”
“That’s still open.”
“I see.”
“Point is, by itself and in excess anything is bad.”
“Common sense.”
“Except beer. And Pizza. They are always good – even to excess.”
“Especially in excess.”
“Now you’re talkin.”
“I remember, I owe you a beer.”
“I have a favorite.”
“And that would be?”
“ “
“And that would be?”
“Those sons-a-bitches!”
“What?”
“I just got done… Well shit…”
“Hey! What?”
“ ”
“What? What sons-a-bitches? Where? Who?”
“ ”
“Goddammit!”
“Always listening…”
“Geeze. You keep doing like that, I’m gonna have a heart attack.”
“I’m working on the ‘awesome’ thing.”
“Okay. Pretty good. I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not, but you could be.”
“You listen, yes, but do you pay attention?”
“Always.”
“Well, since I do have your ear again, this ‘sex’ thing. We got a bit off the subject. I have some questions. And we’ve just started with the food thing.”
“ ”
“Are you there?”
“ ”
“Hey!”
“ ”
Hey?
“ ”
“God…um…ah… Crap!”
Episode IX
“…we thank you for this meal and the lady who put it all together and appreciate the opportunity to welcome friends and family into our home. We ask that when challenged to help others, we will have courage and wisdom to meet…”
“I hate to interrupt.”
“Not now.”
“It’s a good time.”
“No, it’s not!”
“Because?”
“Because I’m in the middle of asking your blessings on the meal and there are other people here.”
“I realize that. This would be a good time to talk to you, since you’re already open, as it were. You’re embarrassed?”
“No. Yes. Well, these people will think I’m crazy. Can they hear you?”
“No, they can’t. As for the ‘crazy’ part, they already have suspicions.”
“Are we having this conversation in my head?”
“No.”
“I’m talking out loud then?”
“Don’t you think so?”
“They have to hear then.”
“No. Look at them.”
“You mean peek?”
“Silly concept. Who came up with the idea that closing eyes and bowing heads during prayer is a sign of reverence? Talking to me is like a kiss? Like rolling a sip of Merlot around in your mouth while you fumble for the correct phrase to describe ‘fruity’ or ‘earthy’? All it does is keep you from seeing Uncle Marvin sneak a sip of wine or little William scarfing a pickle.”
“They’re frozen!”
“Yes, they are.”
“Walter is scratching his nose and looking at his wife across the table.”
“Should have seen him a second or two ago.”
“Frozen!”
“Great ‘Pause’ in the DVD of Eternity.”
“Slick!”
“Damn straight.”
“Amen! Whoops, man, that’s the cue to open their eyes and see if the food is still on the table.”
“No. I said frozen. Completely. Can’t see. Can’t hear.”
“Second or two ago?”
“Don’t ask. You’re about to eat dinner. Uncle Marvin should go wash his hands.”
“Frozen. Be damned.”
“Frozen in time. But they don’t think so. Time itself is frozen. Sort of.”
Except for you and me.”
“Except for you. Never for me.”
“Just here.”
“Everywhere. All of infinity, if that’s what you’re gonna call it today.”
“Cool.”
“Yeah. Your word, ‘slick.’”
“Everywhere?”
“Everywhere.”
“Oh, so you don’t have to re-synch things when you start it back up.”
“That’s never a problem.”
“But everything being interdependent – the fabric of time and all that?”
“Not a problem. I can pause bits and pieces of the whole of it. Large pieces, small pieces, the whole megillah.”
“And starting back up?”
“No problem. Things go on in the whole of infinite eternity. No tiny or large piece depending on any of the rest. No piece ever recognizing any other piece as stopped, behind or ahead as you would imagine. Un-stopped doesn’t recognize the stopped as being stopped. Stopped, obviously doesn’t for the time, if you will, recognize anything.”
“Time is irrelevant?”
“Time is not something mankind is, you, are ready to understand. Einstein was messing around the neighborhood but there is so much still missing from his wild imaginings.”
“Imaginings?”
“He didn’t publish everything. He was a bit timid in that respect.”
“He knew?”
“No, he was wrong. But, how to put it, a lot less wrong than most everyone else.”
“I get a clue?”
“Your understanding of time is like holding an electron in your hand assuming you can deduce the rest of the universe.”
“The universe?”
“Your universe. Mine is much bigger. ‘Much’ and ‘bigger’ are silly words here.”
“So the roast beef won’t get cold while we talk?”
“No. The roast beef doesn’t exist.”
“I see it!”
“No, you don’t. What you see, or think you see, is an aberration in what Albert wanted to call time alchemistry. Crude. Almost understandable to mankind. But crude.”
“Oh. I guess the roast won’t get cold, then.”
“No. Time is the envelope that holds everything. Size, mass, light, every energy, thought, consciousness, every plex.”
“Plex?”
“Cosmic junk. Scraps of eternity. Maybe another time – not to make a pun – I’ll explain.”
“Time is disjoint?”
“Disjoint?”
“Independent here and there and over there.”
“Also crude.”
“But right?”
“No. I like Al’s spin on it. But still crude.”
“Wrong?”
“Al and I had this talk. You really want to continue?”
“I’m humbled.”
“Yes, you are.”
“What’s up?”
“Up?”
“What is it that has stopped all of creation?”
“Creation. You’d think that would describe my universe and eternity and infinity and time.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No. It excludes what was before and since and yet already.”
“You’re still working?”
“Every day. My day, your day. Every piece of time.”
“So when you say you’ve been busy…”
“I’ve been busy.”
“So.”
“So?”
“So what has stopped all of creation?”
“All of creation but you. Sort of.”
“I feel special.”
“In that respect you are. Have you seen my spinode?”
“Spinode?”
“You can look it up later. That’s the best I can do for description. It’s about this tall, this wide, this one is, ah, you would call it opaque on the up and translucent on the down. On the in it’s, oh, never mind. It’s not really much, but it’s my favorite. I take it everywhere. Must have set it down somewhere and can’t remember where.”
“That I don’t understand. You forgot something? Lost something?”
“I do things the hard way sometimes. Keeps me nimble and on my toes, you would say.”
“I see.”
“You don’t. Did I have it with me the last time we talked?”
“I’ve never seen you. Let alone your spinode.”
“Let’s fix that.”
“No!”
“What?”
“I’m not ready. I don’t think I can handle that.”
“I’m not Bill Cosby or George Burns.”
“Man is not in your image?”
“Yes and no.”
“Would I recognize you?”
“Haven’t so far.”
“I’ve seen you?”
“Lots of people have.”
“You have a really bad habit of not answering questions. You know that?”
“You want to see me?”
“Let’s wait.”
“Until?”
“Maybe next time when we’re alone.”
“Don’t get it do you? We’re alone now.”
“Not just yet. This will change things.”
“That wouldn’t be a bad thing. Okay. My spinode?”
“Haven’t seen you, how could I see it?”
“Mankind. You. Selective in your vision. In your thought.”
“Not our fault.”
“It is.”
“We can change it?”
“You can.”
“Well, I wish I could. I wish I had seen your spinode. I could gain favor, maybe, but no, I didn’t see it.”
“Gain favor?”
“You know, for helping.”
“Don’t assume too much.”
“Shoot.”
“Don’t assume too little either. Champone?”
“Champone?”
“Champone is, for lack of a better term, one of my people. Excuse me just a second. Champone, have you seen my spinode? I had it when I was working out the details of, um, ah, yes. Thank you. Now, where we?”
“People?”
“That’s a concept you grasp. … Yes, there it is. …And …Now …Here it is. See?”
“Please! Not yet!”
“Be a treat. You wanna hold it?”
“You want me to wet my pants?”
“ ”
“Or worse?”
“ ”
“…um…”
“ ”
“…um… meet those challenges. Remember those of our family and circle of friends – you know their names – look in on and comfort them and grant them health and peace. Amen. Uncle Marvin, go wash your hands.”
Episode X
“…should make a whole lot more commandments.”
“Sir?…”
“Nah, that won’t work.”
“Sir?…”
“They have the attention-span of a jujube.”
“Sir!…”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. We could fix that. Then what else do we have to change?”
“Sir!…”
“…Oh. I was listening, but I was kind of hoping you’d just press on and I’d get back to you later. I’m working on a different plan here.”
“Your fault. When I can hear you, I think I have your attention, not just that you hear.”
“Ah. Yes.”
“Make a whole lot more commandments? Who were you talking to?”
“Jerry.”
“Jerry?”
“Yeah, Jerry. One of my, um, staff.”
“Jerry? Like what’s his name, Champone?”
“Yeah. So what’s wrong with Jerry? As good as Abimelech or Mordechai.”
“Jerry. …Make?”
“Yeah. How about this: Covet thy neighbors’ tools only under the following circumstances: when…”
“Make?”
“Make? Yes, make. I was thinking…”
“You mean ‘should have made?’”
“No. I’m considering starting all over.”
“You mean, like trash everything so far?”
“Yes.”
“Start again?”
“Yup. Moving too fast for ya?”
“Then all of it is done over? The flood, and all that?”
“Ah! The flood. That’s rich. One day we’ll run through that one. You’ll be amused.”
“Start over? With all the rights of decision and all it may turn out altogether differently?”
“Rights of decision?”
“Lack of pre-destination.’”
“Ah. Free will again?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you think that’s the point?”
“That didn’t occur to me but what about us – mankind and well, everything?”
“Hmm. Okay. Imagine a film editing room. The soundtrack doesn’t fit. You adjust here and there. Rewrite. Reshoot a scene. Merge the new material in, cut some of the old. Bongo! You’re right back where you were, only better. Usually.”
“Bingo.”
“Bingo?”
“Bongo.”
“What I said.”
“Bingo.”
“Bingo. Bongo. Another crease. Um, a previous re-shoot, if you will. Maybe usually better. Always different. Usually better.”
“You’ve done it before?”
“Yes. You stand right there, I can do it right now, just for you. You’ll never know the difference…”
“ ”
“See? Feel any different?”
“No.”
“But you are. I can control everything. I don’t usually. Usually it’s not really necessary. Let’s do it again; I want to try something. You want blonde hair this time?
“Free will?”
“You made your choices before. Same ones every time. Even if I told you the outcome, you’d do it the same way the next time. Well it’s not a matter of telling you, more a matter of letting you work with memory of the time before. Blue eyes?”
“What blue eyes? My eyes are hazel. Do it again?”
“Okay.”
“ ”
“There. See, you can’t even tell. What color are your eyes?”
“Blue.”
What color were they last time?
“Last time? My eyes have always been blue.”
“No. Last time they were hazel. And you’re taller now, too.”
“Always been blue. And I’ve always been this tall.”
“Ahm. Okay. That’s the problem dealing with mankind. Maybe I’ll give you an eternal memory. It certainly will make our talks smoother.”
“We’ve done this before?”
“Oh, many times… On the other hand, Jerry, if he knows what happened last time… or that there was a last time… He might just go another way… of course I can override… Um… Sure, Jerry, sure. We’ll try that… Ah, yes, many times before.
“News to me.”
“What did you want?”
“I um… I mean there is a… When it… I, um, forgot.”
“I am perfect, but the whole of the process really isn’t. You have to work with what you have.”
“I’m sorry. I truly am. To waste your time, I mean.”
“Since we’re here, tell me what the hell is going on in Washington?”
“I talked with a buddy out there, last week, I guess. He said this is the driest summer he can remember. Seattle for instance…”
“The other one.”
“I only have one friend out there. Used to be two, but Randy, you know, well he got sick of the rain and moved to Florida – nice beachfront lot – just before the hurricanes came through and tore everything up.”
“Dummy…”
“Well how was he supposed to know? Okay for you…”
“Dummy. You, dummy. The other Washington. Where all the crooks and con-men live.”
“Isn’t that unfair?”
“Look. If I told you…”
“I mean, there are crooks and con-men everywhere. No law or gravitational force pulls all of them to Washington D.C. I mean, you can find crooks in Oklahoma City and con-men in Tucumcari New Mexico…”
“Humor?”
“Humor.”
“Okay, forget that. You’d probably tell me what I already know.”
“Then why ask?”
“Just being social, put your mind at ease.”
“That’s the only reason?”
“Insight.”
“Insight?”
“Into the mind of mankind.”
“Mankind?”
“Mankind on the whole by knowing yours in particular.”
“You don’t already know the mind of man?”
“Yes and no.”
“We’re off on another lesson in contradiction I think.”
“Well. Put it to you this way: if mankind is to be able to make his own choices, I can’t be delving into his inner thoughts and reasoning all the time.”
“Why not?”
“If I knew where he was going to make mistakes, and believe me some of them are big mistakes, um, ah, the subconscious will of God, me, would assert itself and change decisions and thoughts.”
“And?”
“And that flies in the face of mankind being a free agent and the whole of this experiment.”
“Experiment?”
“For lack of some other description you can embrace.”
“Then you don’t know the mind of man, mankind?”
“I can. But I chose not to. Sometimes it requires effort. Miniscule, you understand because we are talking about a very puny instrument, but I am in charge. It’s kind of like being a three-year-old child’s mom.”
“Let me see. You can and do know the mind of man. But you want man to make his own decisions – to see what he will do – so you hide his mind from yourself, which you can’t do, because you know all, yet you do anyway – which means you do know and I suppose will, now and again intervene.”
“More or less. Think of it as ignoring your boss, only this is your boss ignoring you. Before long, it gets to be that even when he…”
“She…”
“…Yes, she, hears you she doesn’t hear you.”
“Perfectly imperfect.”
“Nothing is perfect.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“You?”
“Sadly…”
“Aw, I don’t want to hear this…”
“Oh, it is true. Take creation. Why create something imperfect or that can easily become imperfect when perfection was there first?”
“Then that implies…”
“A mistake.”
“Zooks!”
“Zeus?”
“Zooks! Zowie! Egads!”
“All the same. Swearing but not swearing. Which means swearing.”
“You’ve done it on occasion.”
“Yes, I have. I speak to you. I speak words you understand. As much as I am for the moment paying attention to the trivial aspects of your existence. I am in your mind as much as in your ears. I have to be.”
“So it’s okay?”
“You think so?”
“I’ve been told to think it’s not.”
“I asked what you think.”
“I think if I intend disrespect or irreverence, it’s wrong.”
“As do I.”
“Otherwise it’s a sign that I have a weak mind and a weak vocabulary.”
“Not a sign of a weak mind. Lazy? Perhaps. Or a mental lapse or an extreme frustration – not anger or disrespect.”
“Then it’s not a sin?”
“It’s a ‘sin’ if that’s the poor, poor term we’re going to use here, if you intend to revile or evidence anger or disrespect. Otherwise, words are just words, and it is the inescapable thoughts – inescapable for you and too, for me, despite my intentions, that are damaging and eventually unforgiveable.”
“Unforgiveable?”
“Oh, indeed, there comes a point where forgiveness is futile because there is no remorse, no contrition, only insincerity.”
“All the, um, religious writings and teachings? Forgiveness no matter what, no matter how late, no matter how huge the sin?”
“A convenience. Again, here you have to consider the source.”
“The drunk who intends to repent but until his dying day continues to fall off the wagon after every swearing-off?”
“Each time in his heart he is convinced this time he will be successful; this can be forgiven.”
“ ”
“Hell is in the mind of man. Hell – the hell man recognizes is man’s contrivance.”
“There is no hell?”
“Be assured, there is a hell.”
“And heaven?”
“Indeed.”
“You can explain them to me?”
“I cannot.”
“ ”
“You can. Explain them. Try.”
“We can talk about them?”
“ ”
“If I get a bit confused?”
“ ”
“Have questions?”
“ ”
“In all of creation, nothing perfect?…”
—
© spwilcenski 2009, 2020-2021
Ramblings 