Friday, June 24, 2011

Beach Logic

Suppose you stumbled upon a watch while walking down a beach with a friend. If you're the decent sort of bloke, you'd go to the nearest National Guard post or life-station or whatever and turn it in. If you're an indecent fella, you might pocket it and see if you can pawn it later. If you're the navel-gazing type, you might wonder about the men and women who made that watch. After all, the existence of a watch presumes a watchmaker, right? Someone had to have intentionally make such an obviously fabricated thing, of course.

Now, suppose you are walking down a beach and stumble upon a friend while looking at your watch. If you're the decent sort of bloke, you'd greet him and maybe take him to get a beer at the nearest bar or pub or whatever and get drunk with him. If you're an indecent fella, you might sell him to slavers or draw penises on his face. If you're the navel-gazing type, you might wonder about the man and woman who made that friend. After all, the existence of a friend presumes two people boning to create the friend, right? Someone had to unintentionally make your friend in the backseat of a '78 Camaro, of course.

Wait. That's not quite true. Your friend's biological parents didn't make your friend, they made the biological entity that is your friend, right? After all, you had a hand in making him your friend. You are the decent bloke who bought him a beer instead of drawing dicks on his forehead. You helped him move that couch that he didn't tell you was a hide-a-bed, which are really heavy, until you tried lifting it, but you didn't complain because he's your friend and his weak-ass isn't moving that on his own, that's for sure.

Where was I? Oh yeah. His biological parents didn't make him your friend. They just put a sperm into an egg. All the events in his life and all the things you did and didn't do made him your friend. He wasn't created. He came from physical stuff mixing with other physical stuff and, through you being as awesome as you are, the two of you became friends. So there's no 'friend-maker,' really. Just biological happenstance of him and you existing at the same time and you being best buds because you don't draw phalluses on each other.

Suppose you're walking with your friend while wearing a watch and you stumble upon a beach. If you're a decent sort of bloke, you might pick up some litter and put it in the conveniently located trash receptacles or go for a swim. If you're an indecent fella, you might throw your used water bottle on the ground like a jackass or yell shark when there isn't one like an even bigger jackass. If you're the navel-gazing type you might think about the men and women who made that beach. After all, the existence of a beach presumes a beach-maker, right? It-

Wait, what? You're really going to ignore all that tidal action and geological activity and erosion and just go ahead and assume somehow someone made sand and water out of nothing? Despite all the evidence that shows that the frickin' beach exists because of physical laws that you should've learned about in middle school, you're going to assume it was created intentionally? By an invisible super-being, despite there being no evidence whatsoever of such an entity existing?

Okay. Well, in that case, I have a bridge to sell you.

Thursday, June 23, 2011


Like almost everyone, I am surrounded by indirect people. People who rarely say what they mean and say what they feel even less. This is a problem. A big problem that's hard to fix because, well, no one wants to talk about it.

Why is this a problem? Isn't our ability to not say what's on our minds a trait we wish to harvest? After all, damn near every person can think of a coworker who talks about their feelings to an awkward extent or a loved one who says exactly how they feel to people directly to their face, usually with hilarious (read: bad) results.

And that's true. Spouting your opinion or feelings at every opportunity isn't going to win friends or sway people to your side. A religious person who slips Jesus into every conversation isn't going to gather converts, they're just going to get people to avoid talking to them.

No, what I'm talking about is when there is a problem. As an example, if you think a loved one is an alcoholic because you've found stashed booze and smell liquor on their breath before lunchtime, but aren't sure whether they're 'really' an alcoholic, what do you do? Most people, even spouses and parents and siblings, would try to avoid making a scene. After all, you are suggesting they don't have full control of themselves. They might think you're calling them weak, a drunkard, an addict. You can try to help them, but it might make things socially uncomfortable if they refuse.

They might even *gasp* get angry. And you can't have that.

Is it really worth the risk of making a scene to help someone save themselves from liver failure and job loss and higher rates of obesity and dementia? I mean, really, do you love them enough to let things to get weird?

But I'm not being direct. I'm being sarcastic. If you love them, you would help them no matter how awkward things would get. Because love is in and of itself awkward and uncomfortable and weird.

And love takes care of its own.