The Afterlife

First of all, you should know I don't believe there is an afterlife.  I think the 14 billion years or so after I die will go as rapidly and painlessly as the first 14 billion years or so before I was born. To believe in the super-natural is to open your mental doors to believe in absolutely anything without any evidence at all.  Not a good plan, and when people have acted on their supernatural beliefs, it has led to really catastrophic consequences.

Given the above, I would have some preferences if there were an afterlife.  And since to believe in the afterlife we have to accept the supernatural, I can posit any conditions I want.  After all, there are no limits or rules about 'supernatural'.  People have manufactured a wide variety of afterlife conditions from clever to adolescent.

My idea of hell is boredom. The conventional idea of heaven includes clouds, harps, streets of gold, and lots and lots of singing, maybe doing nothing, or maybe sitting and talking to relatives long dead. That's about as close to hell as I can imagine, and I do NOT want to be sent there.  I don't even know anyone who wants that in this life for a brief period, much less for eternity.  Like holiday get-togethers that last forever. Without wine.

But least in hell, there might be something to do.  Different torments, scenery, demons, and so on.  Maybe I can get a job.  In fact, I would prefer to be a worker in hell than a guest in heaven.  I could push burning coals with a red-hot broom.  I could dirty up torture rooms (I don't imagine keeping them clean would be a priority). I could carry hot lava in my hands to the lava pools.

Perhaps I could run group therapy for famously bad people. There are some very interesting people in Hell, and they would have a lot of time on their hands. Would a group with Hitler, Judas, various mass murderers and child killers and political figures, be interesting?  Of course. However, there is the problem that if the therapy helped (and I would certainly have plenty of time to work)  and if the members got "better", what would happen to them?  Would they be sentenced to heaven?

And in this hell there would be other workers like me.  I could organize a union of workers, and maybe later we could let the demons join as well.  I wouldn't suggest we could strike for more interesting working conditions, but I wouldn't rule it out, either.

Considering my strong preferences, perhaps the worst punishment for me would be heaven.  I don't like being bad, andit's hard to know just how bad I would have to be to get out of being sent to heaven.  I don't want to be any worse than I really have  to be.

I'll have more thoughts later if I last long enough.

My Super-Powers!

Super-powers are not limited to comic strip characters.  We all probably have them, but don't recognize what a gift they are.

At my advanced age (which I probably ought to write in Roman numerals for appropriateness) I have found I have 2 such powers, and they are mighty  powers that contribute greatly to my comfort and happiness.
The first is Ignore-ance.  This is the power to simply not attend or recognize undesirable objects, people or thoughts.  Actually I haven't found any thoughts I want to Ignore. Yet.  So when someone gives me unpleasant and/or unwanted advice or directions, I simply use my superpower to negate their very existence.  I was doing ok before the unwanted events, and I will probably continue to do ok.  Ignore-ance can be blissful, especially in comparison to the effect really unpleasant news can have on you.

For instance, I never watch the local news any more.  It's all bad, crude, mean-spirited, stupid and violent.  I don't need it.  If it comes on, I use my superpower.  My life is doing just fine without knowing some idiot in a slum put his mother in a woodchipper. I don't need that news.

And that leads me to my second super-power, that of Indifference.  This is the power of not caring at all, not giving a damn.  Refusing to sob when I see a hurt puppy.  Refusing to go sleepless until all the trees in the rainforest are replanted and healthy.  Refusing to get excited over anything politicians say.  (They don't mean it anyway).  I am now considering which charities I want to use my superpower on.  Actually, I'm trying to think if there are any I don't want to use it on.

You can see that Ignore-ance and Indifference are great powers, and when combined even more so.  I can think of some family members (or former family members) that I will mentally obliterate as if they had never existed.   I hope to be able to not know about entire countries and maybe even continents.  I hope to live as if they don't exist.  Yeah, yeah, I know.  Some of them, the stupider ones, might even invade us.  Ho hum.  After they have been destroyed they will fall under my superpowers even more readily.

Give some thought to what superpowers you might already have!  Don't be wasting your time thinking about the impossible.  If you could fly the government would make you tattoo numbers on your butt for easier recognition.  Not a good thought.  And it's cold up there.  No, stick to the things you could actually have. It's even better if others don't know you have them.  Then they can be, like, secret weapons! 

So. good luck to you.  And don't be a pain or you will cease to exist, at least in my world.

A Modest Proposal for Texters

I can see clearly that the following proposals have little likelihood of being implemented.  Unless, of course, I am elected Emperor by acclamation.  Laugh, if you will, but it could happen.
     The intent of these proposals is to stop texting while driving.  Not slow it down or punish the texters, stop it. As with any other activity in which it is possible to kill others as well as one's self, decreasing the frequency is not really a good solution.  Stop it is what we must do.  Texters kill others.  I can tolerate their killing themselves, and preferably early in their lives, if possible prior to breeding.
     First:  Anyone convicted of texting while driving or caught while texting has the following sanctions:
Driver's licence suspended for 6 months for a first offense; Driver's license forfeited for life for a second offense.  But wait.  There's more.
     Second:  A "texter" will have his smartphone confiscated and impounded permanently.  Of course, there is nothing to stop a texter from buying another phone, and thus
     Third:  Their phone account is suspended for 3 months.  For a second offense they are prohibited from having a phone at all for 6 months;  for a third offense it is prohibited for life.
     For additional offenses the texter is placed under "house arrest", which means he or she wears an ankle bracelet with GPS and is limited to his/her home and employment for 1 year.  I believe that for these compulsively socially-addicted people this punishment would be very effective.
     Another suggestion I received was to require convicted texters to have their car marked in some appropriate way, such as a flashing red light on the roof, so that the rest of us can be aware of them and take appropriate precautions.

As Emperor I will be open to suggestions, and the more ingenious ones will be rewarded appropriately.

Libertarian Party Invites Me To Run

True, they didn't say for what, nor  even  how fast.  And they added that they would appreciate a contribution, and I have this hunch that my running for something, say President or even World Emperor, would be contingent on the contribution amount.  President would be enough for me.  I'm a simple man.

Well, I'm not interested in politics, really.  The company you have to keep is pretty distasteful.  But I am interested in total, nearly unbridled power.  I am confident that I could use such power wisely and remain uncorrupted, or at least uncorrupted for, say, six months. After that I should be watched closely. At my age, how much longer could I last, anyway?

So I've given some thought to my platform, and I will welcome comments, which for the most part I intend to ignore.  Still,  crowd-sourcing sometimes is surprisingly effective.  The first 5 items have to do with Congress:

One:  All Congressmen (and Congresswomen) will have their current ridiculous life-time pensions reduced and the term on their pensions will be limited to the number of years they were in Congress.  Four years in office, four years pension.  That's a better deal than they deserve.

Two:  All Congresspeople will have Medicare ONLY.  They don't get a special deal.  If they want more insurance they can pay for it, same as we do.

Three:  Congress is not allowed to set their own salaries and benefits.  It seems unreasonable to allow the pigs to vote on how much goes into their trough.  A Citizen's Committee, appointed by me, will make recommendations for any salary or benefit changes, and I will put the recommendations on the internet and allow all American citizens to vote for them.

Four:  Amendments to bills will be limited to amendments that relate to the content of the bill.  No more adding the costs of their driveways to the National Parks budget.  This will cause  some major changes in the way Congress does business; it will specifically affect pork-barrel legislation.  Each bill will have to be voted on based entirely on its specific merits.  This alone should cut down the budget and the time to decide on it.

Five:  If campaign promises are broken, the Congressperson may be expelled by vote of his district.

But enough about Congress, though I would consider a movement to make corruption and graft in office a capital offense, to be  carried out publically by firing squad or beheading.  And don't give me any crap about "cruel and unusual punishment".  The jihadists do it, so it must be ok.  The remaining items are about general policy.

Six:  I will have line-item veto on any bills.  This is probably the single most important item in my program.  Congress has used its ability to tie personal crap to otherwise good bills we MUST pass, so that they can bribe each other with public funds.  In particular this will apply to the Budget.

Seven:  Budget items that I regard as superfluous, excessive, or ill-advised will be vetoed by me.  However, I may call a national internet vote on certain less-necessary but valuable issues, such as NPR.  We can only afford what we can afford.  Some good things will have to be put off until later. And bear in mind that much of our military costs are actually spent  IN the US, which keeps a lot of people employed, able to afford marijuana and stay quietly off the streets.

Eight:  I will consider re-establishing a tariff on goods produced outside the US and brought in.  The intention is to keep more money inside the US and stop sending it to other countries.  I will demand a revocation of NAFTA. It's nice to help Nike find cheap labor that helps the abysmally poor people in other countries, but I would rather help our own poor, at least to the extent they are willing to work.

Nine.  No more sending our forces overseas except to defend us.  The exception might be that if the UN votes for military sanctions, AND if all the other countries in the UN agree to send their own troops, I could be persuaded.  But I'm tired of us being the playground guard for the rest of the world.  All they have to do to be fine with me is to stop trying to kill us.  I really don't care if they want to kill each other in the name of whatever primitive religious beliefs they have, as long as they don't try it with us.

Personal pledges by me:  I will be absolutely honest.  I will say what I mean and mean what I say. (This has already limited my social desirability).   At my age I am immune to personal bribes or seductions by interns.  I already have more than I need, so I am not corruptible. I haven't done anything that could be used to blackmail me. I will ask for popular vote of confidence via internet on a regular basis concerning issues affecting the general welfare.  I have no intentions of going to church or praying to or for  anything and I have no intentions of stopping others from such forms of activity. So if you want to be religious, you won't get a problem from me.  Unless you give me one.

Since I am pretty much immune to the usual political influences (see above),  a number of  people will want me dead.  You can easily guess which group or combination of houses would be behind an assassination, although they will probably hire a middle-Easterner so it will look like a terrorist plot. 

After six months I think my term should be renewable by popular vote (internet style).  We could call for a vote of confidence/no confidence every 3 months thereafter.  I'm a honest and honorable sort of person, but who knows how that much power might affect me?  It's never safe to allow that kind of power to remain in one person's hands without time/term limits. Except for me.

Also a qualification:  while sitting on my porch and drinking my coffee, I was accidentally sprayed with a shrubbery-spray intended to kill fungus and insects.  At this point, I should be fungus and bug-free for the near future, which not only is a plus but puts me ahead of the other candidates.

So I'm open to suggestions.  Any thoughts or additions?

Heaven and Hell: Seating preferences

While driving to work I accidentally tuned in to a radio evangelist, extolling the beauties and general  wonderfulness of heaven.  It was beautiful beyond imagining, he said.  Streets were of gold, he said.  Didn't say anything about park benches, I noted, or bowling alleys or fishing or libraries. 

Then he went on to  list the activities available  on the Heaven cruise.  A lot of singing was involved,  and some playing of justly obscure musical instruments.  He described this singing with such gusto that you would think he loved it all, and spent all his spare time practicing hymns and lyre-playing.  I am willing to bet as much money as you wish that he never in his life laid a hand (or anything else) on a lyre. And I don't care how many hymns they have:  over an infinite period of time they are bound to get monotonous.

My first thought was, I don't want to go there.  If I weren't already dead at that time, the boredom would surely kill  me, but not nearly as quickly as one might wish.  I would guess that the number of people who actually want to go to that Heaven for.... wait for it.... eternity, might be a smaller  number than you think.  As Mark Twain said (and I paraphrase) we have populated and decorated Heaven with all the things we least like. And it goes on, the evangelist said, without end. 

I had a lot of trouble believing that he could feel as enthusiastic as he wanted to feel.

I found myself thinking that there must be an alternative, and so  there is. Hell!  Now, I grant you there is a lot of talk about sulfur and blazes and lakes of fire and the like, but I ask you, and try to be honest, would you not prefer that to an eternity of harp-accompanied hymn-singing?

I think I would apply for the Hell cruise, if I could also request being assigned to some useful duties.  I don't mind starting with  a broom.  Somebody's got to pick up the trash and stoke the fiery furnaces.  And there are a lot of troubled people down there, not only your every-day villains but a lot of folk who have no idea where they are, much less why they are there.

Well, you might see where this is going.  Being a psychologist/psychotherapist (not one of those psychologists that make people fill out forms and stare at obscene ink-blots) it occurred to me that I might be able to help some of those people.  We'll have  plenty of time on our hands, and we'll need something to do to take our minds off of the eternal unbearable torment assigned to us by God.  Incidentally, doesn't the amount of misery and torment seem a little excessive for having doubts or saying bad words about ... you know who?

Anyway, maybe I could work with some seriously disturbed people, a lot like I do already, only famous.  I can imagine using cognitive-behavioral therapy techniques on Hitler or even Vlad The Impaler.  Assuming they are there, of course.  Maybe I could hold some evening courses in how to come to terms with and accept one's lot with grace.  In the rest of my time, which should be pretty much infinite, I could clean up with a broom and a dustpan.  Or maybe a pickup truck, and they're bound to have those in Hell.

I wonder if  there is a union for cleaners down there?  I bet I could get some people to join up.   Once we have a union going, we can do as much for Hell as the unions have done for America.  And once we get  some political power, who knows where that might take us.  But I think it best to stop with that line of thought.  God knows who's reading over my shoulder.

IMAGINARY DIALOGUES: WHY RELIGIOUS LEADERS NEVER MARRIED

It occurred to me recently that in at least two of the major religious groups in the world the founders of them were unmarried.  I wondered how their lives might have gone if they had had family responsibilities.  Siddhartha Gautama (the Buddha) was married briefly, but left his wife and children to become enlightened.  Jesus (as far as we know) was never married, although we don't know much about him from his early adolescence to age 30 other than his worker as carpenter when he  took teaching.  So the below is a set of imaginary dialogues.

Mrs. Gautama:   Sid, did you remember to take out the trash?
Siddhartha: No, sorry.  I was busy thinking.
Mrs. G:  You’re always busy thinking, but the trash won’t take itself out.
Siddhartha:   I know, I know.  You’re right.  (Gets up from under the bo tree and gets the trash)
Mrs. G:  And while you’re out there, see what the kids are doing.
Siddhartha: OK, OK. (leaves and returns)
Mrs. G:  When are you going with me to the market?  I can’t carry all the food myself.
Siddhartha:  Whenever you want.
Mrs. G:  “Want?”  I don’t “want” to go, but we all want to eat.  Not that we can buy much with the money people give you.
Siddhartha:  I’m a teacher, I take what they give me.
Mrs. G:   You need to be more assertive, Sid.  It’s all very well for you to be so… so peaceful and all, but we have to live on what you make.
Siddhartha:  Maybe you should try just.. letting things go more.  Peaceful is a good thing.
Mrs. G:  It's a good thing for YOU.  "Peaceful" don't feed the kids or do the laundry.
Siddhartha:  What do you want me to do, for God’s sake?
Mrs. G:  Like I get a vote.  You’re the man, make a damn decision.
Siddhartha:  I made a decision.  You just don't like it.  (goes out and slams the door)

Jesus: I’ve got to go, honey.  The guys are waiting for me.
Mrs. Jesus:  That’s right, leave me with the kids to manage.  Just go on.  Be with your buddies.
Jesus:  It’s what I have to do.
Mrs. Jesus:  Don’t give me that crap.  You do what you want to do, you always do.  I get tired being stuck in this house with the kids, you know.  You get to get away with your buddies.  I don’t see what’s so important about hanging out.
J:  God wants me to do this.
Mrs. Jesus: So you say.  He never told me.  I got your word that God talks to you.  When’s he gonna tell you that you need to be a mensch and take care of your family?
J:  My family is the whole world.
Mrs. Jesus:  Bullshit.  THIS is your family.  The rest is just a bunch of people who like to sit around with you and talk politics and religion.  They wouldn’t know the real world if it bit them in the ass.
J:  (comes back in the house).  You’re right.  Sometimes I lose perspective.  I tell the people to give to Caesar the things that belong to Caesar, sometimes I forget that some things belong to the world and some to the family.
Mrs. J:  Damn straight.  (turns, opens the door to another room, looks in) Junior, you stop teasing your little sister!  How many times I got to tell you?
J:  You listen to your mother!  God wants you to be nice and love everybody.
Junior:  I gotta love my yucky sister?  Not gonna happen, Dad.
Maybelline:  Daddy, make him stop!  (she cries loudly)
Mrs. Jesus:  I swear, I don’t know what to do.  You handle this.  I’m fed up.
J:  (Sits down next to the children).   I’m gonna tell you a story, OK?
Junior:  A good story?
J:  Sure.  It’s about a Good Samaritan.
Junior:  Has it got any talking animals or crooks and people with weapons?
J:  No, no, it’s about a man from another country who’s a good guy.
Maybelline:  I don’t want to hear a story like that.  They’re BORING!
Junior:  It’s OK, dad, I’ll just go work in the shop.
Mrs. Jesus:  Jesus, don’t you let him go out there with all those tools!
J:  Stay in here, Junior.
Mrs. Jesus:  (to Jesus) And when are you going to make some furniture to sell?  We can’t live much longer on what people give you.  You got a trade, you’re a good carpenter.  So make something, for God’s sake, and maybe I could sell it in the market and we get something good to eat!  Jesus, I’m tired of pottage and gruel
J:  OK, OK, just lay off me.  I got things to think about.
Mrs. Jesus:  Think all you want.  Just get off your butt and do something!

A Mother Answers a Five-Year-Old's Questions About God (Part One)

I have a number of grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and the conversations I hear and imagine between mother and child are fascinating and frequently take an unanticipated turn.  The following conversations took place on a road trip, which is often a place where extended conversations can take place.  It's clear that parents who have not anticipated and prepared for these questionings can find themselves getting in deeper and deeper.  (I made a note of a couple of spots that proved problematic). So here is the first of several installments.7

Does God have a peepee?
Yes, honey.  We know that because God is a man, and men have peepees.

Does God have to pee?
I don't know.  I guess so. (This is  where she went wrong, I think)

Does he have a toilet?
No.  He pees into the clouds so that makes rain!.

Does it get on us when it rains?
No!  He pees over the oceans so it doesn't get on anybody.

Does he drink water?
He can drink anything He wants.

Where does he get stuff to drink?
He probably sends his angels to get some for him. I think there is milk in the Milky Way.

Do they go to the store like we do?
No.  I think they get it from the sky.

Can we see them get it from the sky?
Sometimes you can.  They look like a streak of light, because they go so fast.  Some stupid people call them 'shooting stars'. But they're angels getting milk for God.

God is real big, isn't He?
Yes, of course.

So his peepee would be real real real big too.
I suppose so.

Would it be bigger than Daddy's?
Oh yes. Definitely. A lot.

At this point snickering and outright giggles from other passengers brought this particular interchange to a halt. A brief halt for beverages and gasoling intervened.  After the break the same two people  are involved in the subsequemt conversation.  I think it should be clear by now that making things up as you go along can be a lot trickier than you might have thought, and the conversations take you to very peculiar places when they are not planned.

Does God wear clothes?
I think so.

Where does He get them.
From the God Sky Store, I think.

Does He have to give them money?
No. It's His store.  It's the God Sky Store.

Can we go to that store, the God Sky Store?
Maybe when we get old and die.

Dead people go to the God Sky Store?
Um, yes, I guess they do.   (This turned out to be a mistake, I think)

What do they do there, the dead people?
I think they put things on the shelves so God can find them.

Where do they get stuff big enough to make clothes for God?
Way, way out in the sky past the stars is the Big Stuff Place.  That's where they get it.

Does it grow there?
Yes.  They grow Big Stuff and they sew it together on Big Machines for God.

So when we die do we have to go to the God Sky Store and work?
I suppose so.  Either there or the Big Stuff Place.

I don't think I want to go there..
Well, you have to.  We all have to.  It's just the way things are.

How do you know?
They told me at church.

How do they know at church?
I think God or one of the angels told them.

Have you ever seen one?
No. But they told me they did.

Do God and angels talk to some people and tell them things?
Yes.  That's how we know these things.

Did God ever talk to you?
No.  Not really.

Did an angel talk to you?
No.

Just to other people?
Yes.

Why not to you?
I don't know.  I suppose you have to be very special for God or an angel to talk to you.

I wish I was special.
You are to me.

But not to God?
No, I guess not. But everybody is special to God.  Just some people are more special than others.

Does God only speak to the Special People?
Yes.  It's always been that way.  And the Special People write it down and they tell us.

How does God know which people are Special People?
I don't know.  I think the Special People must be very very good people.

I've been very very good.
Yes, you're a very good child.

But I peed in my bed once.
Yes, but all children do that.  That doesn't make them bad.

Even Baby Jesus? 
Yes, even Baby Jesus.

I wish God thought I was special so He would talk to me.

This discussion definitely took an unforeseen turn.  I plan to listen carefully in the future and make better notes.

Uncle Charley Supports An Emperor

"I can't tell you how tired I am of listenin' to all them politicians lyin' and puttin' a spin on the truth," Charley said, handing me another beer.

"That's what's going on, though," I said. "I don't understand why they keep these transparent lies going when it's simple to tell the truth".

"Simple for you," Charley laughed. "You don't need any voter support."

"I think they lose more support than they keep when they hand out another line of politically correct baloney," I said. "That beer is good, Charley. Where'd you get it?"

"It's made locally at that little German restaurant up Sooner Road almost to Moore. No hops, hardly. And what would you do different?"

"Differently from what?", I said.

"Fer instance," Charley said with a laugh, "If you had been in Clinton's place when he got caught foolin' around with that young woman, what would you have said instead of 'I did not have sex with that woman'?"

I thought for a minute. "OK, how about this: 'Yep, I stepped out of the bounds of my marriage, and now I have a real problem, a personal one. How is it your business if I'm not faithful to my wife? The Chief Executive of this country is not required to make his private life public, as long as that doesn't affect his ability to do his job. Next question?'"

Charley laughed. "I like it, Harry. Course you're not married to Hillary".

"That's for sure," I said.

"What if you'da been Nixon when Watergate came crashin' down around his ears?"

"I don't believe I would have gotten into that situation in the first place. It's a lot easier to tell the truth when you're staying honest. But I wouldn't have said 'I am not a crook'. I might have said something like 'I did not behave ethically when I obtained information illegally. I stepped over the line. I will accept whatever consequences follow, but until my responsibilities change I will continue to do my job and try to be more of an honest man and less of a politician. Next question?"

"That's good, but not too practical. I get your point. People got a right to know that you're honest, and they got a right to know the things that you do or don't do as part of your job. But you don't think they got a right to know squat about your private life. Is that about it?"

"I think so," I said. "Some things you can't talk about publicly. No business or corporation can survive with all their plans open and public. But the United States is a business, a big one.
And the people in charge need to stand up and be truthful about what they are doing and what they have done as far as their job is concerned. I don't care if the President of the United States has sexual relationships with sheep, and it's none of my business, unless somehow it affects how he does his job."

"I agree. I think them reporters will tell anything to anybody if it helps 'em keep their jobs. Like them paparazzi sneaking around tryin' to take pictures of naked celebrities. It's just low class panderin' to the lowest level of curiosity." Charley took a drink from his beer.

"I think it would be interesting to see how the American people would react to a President who told the truth and who demanded that his personal boundaries be respected."

"I think people would love it," Charley said, finishing his beer. "I think they might make you Emperor if you did that."

"I'm willing to be elected by acclamation," I laughed. "Let's see if someone wants an honest man."