Saturday, October 10, 2020

We are Candy Bars and God is Crazy


Boundlessly unfounded chaos would appear to be

the order of the day today from Speonk to Bombay.

It’s not that any thing might happen but that every

thing must happen which contrives to drive one

mad. “Does it serve justice that such coconut-

stuffed heads as ours be driven nuts as well?” or so


the clan of crania I’d just impelled to sprout up

from my neck and shoulders into an incarnate form,

now queried God. Who out of mirthless laughter

hollowly replied, “Because you cannot be dissuaded

from believing there’s a cosmic truth, your reality

both must and cannot happen: you’re Ambivalence


made flesh. Maybe, baby, you’ll discover you have

never lived. To see if you exist you must subject

yourself to infinite varieties of ands and buts and ifs.

Recall infinity knows nothing of ‘before’ or ‘after’.

And candy bars are lazy.” (As I, albeit vainly, have

implored you to accept, we are those candy bars


and God is crazy. There’s more (God’s hungry for

us sundry sweets!) but it avails us little to explore it –

undermined and undermining, all the rest at best

is hazy (God’s synonym for hellish). He wants His

valedictory goodbyes to ring with language we will

relish: He does orate them stirringly, then – oh, with


what relief! (but no surprise) – He dies. Ambivalence

personified to such a pitch, God couldn’t find a way

to scratch – alleviate – that old hellacious itch. Ergo

the Universe he made could not stay made. That’s

the skinny on why we’re no longer here, though it

may seem we are. They’ve bedded my eight crania


into a comfortable and capacious booby hatch. Every

being “here” appears to think God’s busy running

worlds as usual and all is fine. They’ll find out

soon enough that nothing anymore belongs to God,

long gone. When we sit down at dawn at breakfast,

I perceive the real design. Everything is mine.



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