Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Like Dead Birds from Heaven

Yeah, so . . . . I haven't blogged for a while.



Now, on to other news.

So, as you know by now, thousands of birds dropped dead on new year's in Arkansas and as soon as I saw the news I just KNEW it would be a matter of time before I heard someone marking it as a sign of the end of days. And to be fair, when I saw the newscast, it DID seem like one of the overt foreshadowing scenes in a Jerry Bruckheimer disaster film, one in which I would surely be the Black (and therefore expendable) best friend of the White hero. I'd probably be named Lucius and I'd be full of life-affirming advice like "let go man" and "turn off your brain, turn on your heart."

Clearly I've thought about this too much.

Anyway, it took exactly three days for someone to call "GOD DID IT" (believe it or not, it wasn't Kirk Cameron). If you know anything about my house, you know that the basement floods. A lot. It's like a hobby. A very expensive, teeth-grating hobby that makes me wanna punch my house in the face.

Anyway, the guy who came to fix the basement was all a flutter about the dead birds.

"I tell you, he's coming back." He said. The "he" being Jesus or perhaps The Terminator, he didn't really specify but I assume the former.

You'd be proud, I didn't roll my eyes, not even once.

I wanted to, I mean my eyes were in pole position but I realized there was no point. We are just two different types of people. Which brings me to the new grand conclusion of my life -- that the world has two types of people; those that believe in coincidence and those that don't. I'm the former.

Birds fall from the sky on New Year's Eve -- Eerie? Yes.
2012-ish? You bet.
Coincidence? Without a doubt.

For some, that is simply too much to handle. The event is too ripe with potential meaning for it to mean NOTHING.

There's this little thing I learned about called "magical thinking," which basically breaks down to believing in the causal relationship between unrelated things. Like, cold weather leading to catching a cold (something apparently EVERYONE believes) or celebrities dying in threes. Essentially, its
superstition and I don't have a drop of it in me.

Ok, when I was a kid I may have avoided some sidewalk cracks so as to not put my mother in traction, but after slipping up a few times and finding my mother in perfect health, the "magic" started to wear thin. If it helps, my belief in Santa was broken once I saw how big the country was after driving from New Jersey to Dallas. AND I WAS SEVEN! Logic started to bear out where magic and supernatural did not.

Now, having said that, I allow that there are things that science has yet to explain and that there may be things like telepathy or clarivoyance (maybe), but when it comes to dead birds and the return of a 3,000 Jewish hippie it all feels kinda . . . iffy.

So, as I embark on this new year of blogging, I want to warn ALL believers, be you Christians, Muslims or simply someone who REALLY thinks being born in January makes you different than someone born in June -- I'M COMING FOR YOUR FAITH!!!!!!! (that's really extreme, I mean, keep your faith by all means. It's not, you know, up to me what you believe. I just, well, I just want you to think about some of the things you say and do and understand that some of it is kinda silly). 

Over the last few months I've come to a grand conclusion; there is a distinct difference between myself and the carpenter (ironic no?) in my house.