Blame it on original sin, I guess. People sit in dim cubicles on chairs optimized for causing slow pain that builds until reaching a crescendo at five o’clock. Then they drive home in a moving prison cell with wheels, but at least it has more comfortable seats. They return to their overpriced house or apartment and say hello to their offspring, who sit hypnotized by glowing screens. At least they think those are their children, they look about the right age to be. Was Sally blond or brunette? Sixth grade or seventh? Who could remember?
They fight with their angry spouses over who had the worst day and eat abysmal food from cardboard boxes in their fully equipped chef’s kitchens. On the way to bed, they pass by the Jacuzzi tub, too tired to consider filling it and getting in. They pull back the designer bedspread, the one they can’t see in the dark, and find brief escape in dreams.
Such damned souls simultaneously feel obligated to earn the trappings of success and unworthy of enjoying them. Are they offering some metaphysical apology for a crime against the divine? When will they say, “enough”?
We’re sorry, we really are, and we’d make it up to You if we could. But get real here! How many times can we apologize for eating an apple? It was the snake’s fault anyway, and yet I’ve never seen a snake slither into a cubicle to do penance at a computer screen. If You asked a snake to do so, he would undoubtedly cock his scaly head in puzzlement and wonder what You were smoking.
“You must have me confused with someone else,” the snake would say. “No one I know would be caught dead talking to a human. Nasty creatures, humans. Don’t You agree? Oh yes, of course You do! I remember one named Job. You handled that one masterfully, I must admit. And now You have them trained to punish themselves. I would bow to Your divine gift for guilt trips, but I am already on the ground, as You can see. Someone, and I’m not naming any names here, forgot to give me legs. Now move; You are standing in my sunbeam, and I’d like to take a nap.”
I will follow the snake’s example and direct You to my greatnth grandmother. I believe she plucked the apple in question, so put her in a cubicle. I refuse to be imprisoned for a crime I didn’t commit. I don’t believe You’ll damn me for being happy; You’re not as bad as some make You out to be. From what I hear, Your son was a good guy, and the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree as a general rule. Ok, maybe I’ll go to hell for that joke, but at least I’ll get some living in before I do.
I have a little ponderance to pose, if You’ll pardon my impertinence. Of course You will, lest You lose Your reputation for forgiveness. You’ve done a lot of good PR since that whole flood incident, and You wouldn’t want to blow it because of me; I’m not worth it. Anyway, here’s something to think about…
It seems like all Your hard work is going to waste here! You made this awesome place for us to explore and enjoy, and yet as a group, we sit around dreaming up new ways to make ourselves miserable. Does that really make You happy? Be honest now.
Uh-huh. I thought so. Now, You can’t expect me to get the message out. No one listens to me, I’ve already told You. I keep trying to tell them You’re not such a bad guy, but, well, there are a lot of people more persuasive then me spreading a lot of nasty rumors. I won’t repeat them; it would just be embarrassing.
No, mentioning this conversation would not help, but thanks for the idea. Now, if you’ll excuse me, one of Your angels is reminding me I promised her a walk. She knows how to enjoy life, never judges others, and forgives without question. I don’t know if You get all my messages, but thanks again for sending her to me. If You had given her a voice, she would make a better messenger than I ever could.
Because no one argues with a talking dog, that’s why. Just think about it before you send another human messenger, ok? You know, insanity is expecting different results from the same behavior…