There's Safety in Our Dangerous Nature

This entry is going to require some open-mindedness and some willingness to bend one's belief system.

For a moment, let us dispel all disbelief and collectively agree there is, in fact, a supreme being. For some, that is a simple effort, but for others, it requires some serious logic-suppression.

Now that we have theoretically, collectively accepted the existence of a supreme being, let's stop there and refrain from trying to convince one another that one supreme being is the true supreme being and that other supreme beings are merely poseurs. For the sake of today's post, let's agree there's only one supreme being, and instead of trying to label him or her with a commonly accepted name like "God," or "Allah," or "Zeus," let's just call ours "Pat" - an appropriately androgynous label for a hypothetical supreme being.

Now, let's assume for a moment that "Pat" lives on an appropriately ginormous estate with acres and acres of rolling lawns and well-manicured gardens. Nestled within one of the gardens is a special, treasured plant, which Pat visits every day to observe and nurture. One day, Pat's gardener, Clovis, who's the equivalent of a middle-school drop-out from Arkansas, accidentally runs over Pat's favorite Pegasus with his zero-turn lawn mower.

Understandably, Pat gets ticked off and reprimands Clovis. Clovis' two brain cells synapticly connect for a fraction of a second, and before he returns to his mobile home, he exacts his revenge by using his other-worldy weed-wacker to chop down Pat's precious garden plant.

Now, let's assume we were a spot on the back of a ladybug on that plant. Freakin' Clovis!

This entire academic endeavor was intended to illustrate how we may not be the top of the food chain after all, but merely a speck in the universe. - not too difficult to fathom, really, is it? Religion mongers won't be too thrilled with this concept, since the basis for their teachings is that God is a man who looks and talks like us, has lived among us at some point in history, and will return again sometime in the future. Other people will also be uncomfortable because they need this validation of our own importance in the universe to feel safe. For some of us, however, the thought that we may be nothing more than a cog in a wheel is strangely liberating.

For example, if we accept the concept that we are only one sample among bazzilions of beings throughout our (and possbily other) universe(s), then perhaps we can also accept that other beings from other places roam our planet with us. Frankly, this is really sort of comforting, as it would explain the existence of "people" like Ru Paul, Hillary Clinton and Simon Cowell.

Other people are troubled by this concept though. Some, for example, believe other (let's call them Alien) beings will do them harm and, possibly, suck out their brains. For them, "Pat" created aluminum foil, so they can fashion themselves lovely head-wear to protect their precious grey matter ... no matter how flawed and damaged it may be. Truth be told, even sans aluminum foil, these people are safer than they may realize.

Before the aliens can ruin us, we'll most likely ruin them.

Consider the plight of one of our most notorious aliens: Tiger Woods.

Clearly, there is no other feasible explanation for Tiger Woods' existence than he is an alien. If you play golf, you completely understand this argument.

Much like how Jonathon and Martha Kent adopted Superman when he landed on Earth, so, have I assumed, Earl and Kutilda Woods adopted Tiger when he landed. Jonathon and Martha, and Earl and Kutilda nurtured and protected their fledgling super-beings, and kept them out of trouble, but just as Jonathon's death sent Clark to Metropolis to dress in tights, Earl's death sent Tiger into a philandering frenzy.

Why did this happen? Why did such perfect creatures adopt such strange tendencies? Because the human race is the most dangerous, corruptive force in the universe and we can pervert anything, anytime, anywhere. It was only a matter of time before the world's most-perfect golfer would have to check into a sex addiction clinic. That's outlandish, you say? How 'bout this.

What's the first thing a human being thinks when he or she happens upon a location of astounding and pure beauty? - "I need to buy this and build a house!"

We have this uncontrollable urge to change and pollute things, no matter how perfect they may be. Can't you just imagine the conversations in Eden?

Eve: "Adam, isn't this place beautiful?"

Adam: "Uh-huh."

Eve: "I think we should redecorate."

Adam: "Are you nuts? This place is perfect!"

Eve: "Adam, do you ever want to have sex again?"

Adam: "Oh, did you say redecorate? I completely misunderstood. Redecorating is a fine idea. Have I told you how small your ass looks in that fig leaf?"

Eve: "Eat this apple; grab a paint brush, some wood and a compound mitre saw and follow me."

Isn't it ironic that we fear beings from outer space coming here to destroy our planet when history repeatedly proves what a good job we've been doing on our own?What are they going to do, come down here and shout out instructions?

Aliens aren't coming to Earth to do us in, and they're certainly not coming here to study us. We're just not that interesting or important, although we like to believe we are. No, we're just going to live here by ourselves, killing off the perfect planet we were given, and naming athletic footwear after the occasional god-like beings who come down and live among us. In the end, we'll finish ourselves off, or Clovis will wipe us out with a piece of lawn equipment. At this point, it's a footrace, and judging by Clovis' intellectual limitations, I'm betting on us!