When my imaginary three-year-old grandson Bosco Obama the Third comes to my house, he often climbs into my lap, looks at me lovingly with those big beautiful eyes and asks a question. Today the question was, “Gam’pa, (he calls me Gam’pa, isn’t that cute?) “how come Mommy says you’re f**ked in the head?”
To which I reply, “Well, Bosco, it’s probably because your dear mother grew up in this very house and is well aware of my religious beliefs.”
“Please elaborate,” little Bosco says.
“Well, you see, my beliefs fall outside the parameters of what is considered the norm. Most people believe God created them and placed them on Earth to lead good and productive lives. Others believe that if you do wrong in this life you’re sent back to make up for all the bad you’ve done. There are many other beliefs but I don’t buy into them, because I’ve already figured out why I’m here.”
Overhearing this, my beloved daughter Turtledove storms in and bellows, “Don’t you go filling my son’s head with that loony tune crap you insane, old f**ktard!”
“Mother please!” Bosco says as he grabs my arm to keep me from reaching for my shotgun. “We need to respect all religions as long as they don’t promote violence or hatred no matter how stupid or asinine. And we should especially respect those of people like Gam’pa, who, as we know, could snap and go on a killing spree at any moment.”
My daughter nods. “As usual you’re right and all I ask, my son, is that you let whatever he says go in one ear and out the other.”
“Don’t I always, mother?” he replies. As she leaves the room, I continue my tale.
“So here’s what happened. I’m originally from another planet or dimension, or alternative reality or whatever, just some other place. And in that place, everyone is just like me. They can all write books and music and draw and tell jokes and basically entertain each other without needing television or movies. And because we’re all happy doing that stuff there are never any wars or riots or social unrest because it would take from our creative time and we’re all just too busy creating stuff to muck about with such nonsense.
“Well, almost all of us.
“You see, Bosco Obama the Third, in the middle of all this joy, of all this fun in a literally perfect existence, one damn fool decided it wasn’t enough to be happy and fulfilled. No! He wanted to be a ruler, a king. He wanted all the attention to be focused on him and for everybody to do what he told them. And so he set out and made this seriously stupid idea happen which made everybody very unhappy for a very long time.
Fortunately one day, the UNIVERSE just happened to be driving by and when he saw this, pulled Glock 9 and popped a cap in his ass.
“And the people all lived happily ever after!” Bosco said with a big smile.
“They sure did,” I said as I tussled his hair. “But the story isn’t over. You see, the guy who was making everybody miserable had to appear before the UNIVERSE to explain why he did what he did. Well, of course he couldn’t, so the UNIVERSE said, “Since you like to make people miserable, I’m going to sent you to a place where people specialize at it.
Bosco eyed me. “Am I to assume that you’re the dick who made everybody miserable and as punishment got sent to Earth?”
“Apparently so,” I replied. “And boy, was the UNIVERSE right about the people here. I mean, what wrong with them? Have you read the history of this place? Do you have any idea what these lunatics regularly do to each other? Seriously, who came up with the idea of nailing somebody to a cross? And why, when this psycho suggested it, didn’t everybody grab him and put him in a mental institution? Same goes for burning someone at the stake. Holy mother of Bob, Bosco! They set human beings on fire because they believed these certain people weren’t really human but instead an imaginary character called a witch. That would be like a mob coming here and dragging me off to hang me because they believed I was a Klingon.”
“I’d join that mob,” Turtledove called out from the next room.
“Mother please,” Bosco calls out. “You know it’s unwise to taunt a man while he’s undergoing a psychotic episode.”
He turns to me and says, “Please continue.”
I shake my head. “It’s not like we don’t know better. The great philosophers of the ages all promoted peace. Aristotle, Confucius, Gandhi and especially Rodney King, whose immortal words, ‘Can’t we all just get along?’ have become the lynchpin of my belief system. And furthermore…”
It is then I realize that the house is empty, it’s become dark outside and I’m just talking to myself.
Nice visit though.
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