Note to self
Despite all evidence to the contrary, the universe does not hate you. First of all and most significantly, such a claim would suppose that the universe was a self-conscious entity, and while it is not impossible, there is no evidence to support that the vast and almost empty void with a scattering of particulates is somehow aware of its own existence.
But, let us suppose for one moment that the universe is self-aware. Let us pretend for just a little while that somehow the collection of gases and tiny swirling bits of matter have somehow spontaneously generated thoughts and memory and that these thoughts have somehow developed to the point where something as large and awesome as the universe can hold a grudge against is so insignificantly small and unimportant to its whole, it would be more absurd for a human being to develop a vendetta against a single cell on its foot. We, as human entities are far smaller to the universe and far less significant to the universe than the smallest cell in our body. A single cell could eventually destroy its brothers, by perhaps deciding one day to turn into a cancer, or perhaps surrendering to a malevolent passing virus.
A simple human however could no more aversely effect the universe than he or she could sprout wings or walk on water. It is far less likely in fact than either of those two things.
Let us suppose that a human developed the desire, appetite and awesome abilities of the Marvel character Galactus. Now for those of you who do not know who or what Galactus is, suffice to say that Galactus is a cosmic entity who is the embodiment of an entire universe. Galactus floats around menacingly eating entire planets for sustenance, and occasionally hiring naked silver men to ride surf boards in space.
Let us say that you had this power and you ate a planet every single day. There are about 400 billion stars in our galaxy alone. Now not all stars have orbiting planets, but many of them do, and many of them could have many more than nine, (or eight if you're one of those douche scientists who have recently defrocked Pluto of its status) so let us say that eight is an average. That would mean there were over three trillion planets in the Milky Way alone.
Multiply that by the number of Galaxies in the Universe, (roughly 125 billion) and you get well above and beyond my ability to calculate. And let us say for argument's sake that you as Galactus could travel from place to place at the speed of light, well it would take you billions upon billions of centuries just to travel from place to place to place, and that is without stopping to actually eat any of the planets that you found.
I am going to go out on a limb here and say that even if you were Galactus, the Devourer of Worlds that you could not knock a dent in the significant portion of the universe in the span of the universe's entire existence. So how or why would this hypothetically sentient universe bother with you?
Well, let us say for argument's sake that instead of the universe itself, it is a deity who is pissed off and visiting you with horrors and flat tires.
Well if we are to assume you are talking about one of those creator gods like... well lets say that one who is so popular with the Judeo-Christian crowd, Jehovah. He created the whole universe in six days with only the help of a handful of midgets. (see Time Bandits) Jehovah is a great deal bigger and vastly more infinite than the Universe and yet we are to believe that this entity is petty and small minded, that He is playing practical jokes on you just because it is the Thirteenth Friday in your arbitrary calendar? This being, who created the space-time continuum from nothing, is hovering invisible behind a cloud snickering as you get in your car and attempt to drive off only to discover that in the middle of the night all of the air has seeped out of a small hole as you realize it is Friday the 13th. Hah, jokes on you. God elbows the midgets and guffaws like a frat boy while you angrily stomp back into your small apartment to tell your wife that you have to take her Aspire because YHWH is having a laugh.
That would be more than arrogant. That would be something so preposterously self-centered that it does not have a name. To believe that Adonai thinks of you as so important that He bends the laws of time and space and probability just so that he can give you a hard time is beyond outrageous haughtiness, it is insanity.
Or perhaps it is the Son; that do-gooder hippie offspring of Jehovah that died on the cross just so he could come back as a Living Ghost and poke holes in your tire.
Or maybe it was the Devil. Satan broke out of Hell or sent one of his innumerable minions past the Gates of Cerberus on this High Unholy Day to flatten your tire. The Lord of the Flies has nothing better to do than to screw with you today, like plot his latest stratagem in his eternal war with God, or buy the latest Nickleback album to play over Hell's loudspeakers.
Or maybe your Enemy dwells outside the narrow margins of Judeo-Christian thought. Just maybe it is Loki, that malicious "contriver of all fraud" who tormented the Norse pantheon, contrived to murder Baldr the Brave, and who will at the end of time will wage war against the gods and man. Perhaps he has developed a personal grudge against you because you never bothered to sacrifice a chicken in his name, or even worse, never have read a Thor comic book. (but I have, I have!)
Or maybe it is some unknown deity, never known or worshiped by man, an Elder thing with many eyes and orifices who dwells in the Inner Darkness and the Space between Spaces, coalescing in its unknowableness, rubbing its tentacles together in anticipation of watching you drive up the road on only three full functioning wheels.
Or maybe its just a fucking coincidence.
The universe doesn't hate you. Its just another day and although it feels as if it is different it isn't. You may have had a bad week, or a bad month, a bad year or a bad life. Maybe you should have checked your tire. Maybe you should have checked the tires on the Dodge Neon of your life a long time ago, and maybe you should stop blaming the universe for what is ultimately your fault, get off your lazy ass, and be proactive in your existence every day a little bit more until you manage to forge and fashion a small modicum of God damned happiness.
Maybe you should realize that a lot of people on this little globe of ours have it a lot fucking worse than you. Maybe you should learn to be grateful for all of the wonderful things you have that you don't by any rights deserve like LIFE, LIBERTY and fucking good God-damned HEALTH, you whiny little snot-nosed fucker.
Maybe you could just manage to smile a little today, and stop brooding over your supposed god-damned bad luck, take some personal responsibility for your existence and try to make the day a little better for yourself and maybe a few others if you can possibly see your way into thinking about someone else other than your fat spoiled ass for a change.
The universe does not hate you, it doesn't even know your stupid name. But the universe has for some reason allowed you to exist, and not only exist but be self aware, something that in all probability most of the rest of it does not possess. Don't waste it. Its a fine fucking gift and beautiful beyond description. The universe loves you, though it does not know you and though you do not deserve it. The universe fucking loves you because you live and have lived and know you live and know you will one day not be fucking alive which is more than 99.99999 percent of the rest of the fucking universe. You are special and you didn't know it. You are so special that there is no math or smattering of words that you can describe just how fucking special you are. Snowflakes have nothing on you. Coruscating stars in the night sky have nothing on you. You are alive damn it all, and you know it.
The universe loves you.
The universe loves you.
The UNIVERSE fucking loves YOU.
But, let us suppose for one moment that the universe is self-aware. Let us pretend for just a little while that somehow the collection of gases and tiny swirling bits of matter have somehow spontaneously generated thoughts and memory and that these thoughts have somehow developed to the point where something as large and awesome as the universe can hold a grudge against is so insignificantly small and unimportant to its whole, it would be more absurd for a human being to develop a vendetta against a single cell on its foot. We, as human entities are far smaller to the universe and far less significant to the universe than the smallest cell in our body. A single cell could eventually destroy its brothers, by perhaps deciding one day to turn into a cancer, or perhaps surrendering to a malevolent passing virus.
A simple human however could no more aversely effect the universe than he or she could sprout wings or walk on water. It is far less likely in fact than either of those two things.
Let us suppose that a human developed the desire, appetite and awesome abilities of the Marvel character Galactus. Now for those of you who do not know who or what Galactus is, suffice to say that Galactus is a cosmic entity who is the embodiment of an entire universe. Galactus floats around menacingly eating entire planets for sustenance, and occasionally hiring naked silver men to ride surf boards in space.
Let us say that you had this power and you ate a planet every single day. There are about 400 billion stars in our galaxy alone. Now not all stars have orbiting planets, but many of them do, and many of them could have many more than nine, (or eight if you're one of those douche scientists who have recently defrocked Pluto of its status) so let us say that eight is an average. That would mean there were over three trillion planets in the Milky Way alone.
Multiply that by the number of Galaxies in the Universe, (roughly 125 billion) and you get well above and beyond my ability to calculate. And let us say for argument's sake that you as Galactus could travel from place to place at the speed of light, well it would take you billions upon billions of centuries just to travel from place to place to place, and that is without stopping to actually eat any of the planets that you found.
I am going to go out on a limb here and say that even if you were Galactus, the Devourer of Worlds that you could not knock a dent in the significant portion of the universe in the span of the universe's entire existence. So how or why would this hypothetically sentient universe bother with you?
Well, let us say for argument's sake that instead of the universe itself, it is a deity who is pissed off and visiting you with horrors and flat tires.
Well if we are to assume you are talking about one of those creator gods like... well lets say that one who is so popular with the Judeo-Christian crowd, Jehovah. He created the whole universe in six days with only the help of a handful of midgets. (see Time Bandits) Jehovah is a great deal bigger and vastly more infinite than the Universe and yet we are to believe that this entity is petty and small minded, that He is playing practical jokes on you just because it is the Thirteenth Friday in your arbitrary calendar? This being, who created the space-time continuum from nothing, is hovering invisible behind a cloud snickering as you get in your car and attempt to drive off only to discover that in the middle of the night all of the air has seeped out of a small hole as you realize it is Friday the 13th. Hah, jokes on you. God elbows the midgets and guffaws like a frat boy while you angrily stomp back into your small apartment to tell your wife that you have to take her Aspire because YHWH is having a laugh.
That would be more than arrogant. That would be something so preposterously self-centered that it does not have a name. To believe that Adonai thinks of you as so important that He bends the laws of time and space and probability just so that he can give you a hard time is beyond outrageous haughtiness, it is insanity.
Or perhaps it is the Son; that do-gooder hippie offspring of Jehovah that died on the cross just so he could come back as a Living Ghost and poke holes in your tire.
Or maybe it was the Devil. Satan broke out of Hell or sent one of his innumerable minions past the Gates of Cerberus on this High Unholy Day to flatten your tire. The Lord of the Flies has nothing better to do than to screw with you today, like plot his latest stratagem in his eternal war with God, or buy the latest Nickleback album to play over Hell's loudspeakers.
Or maybe your Enemy dwells outside the narrow margins of Judeo-Christian thought. Just maybe it is Loki, that malicious "contriver of all fraud" who tormented the Norse pantheon, contrived to murder Baldr the Brave, and who will at the end of time will wage war against the gods and man. Perhaps he has developed a personal grudge against you because you never bothered to sacrifice a chicken in his name, or even worse, never have read a Thor comic book. (but I have, I have!)
Or maybe it is some unknown deity, never known or worshiped by man, an Elder thing with many eyes and orifices who dwells in the Inner Darkness and the Space between Spaces, coalescing in its unknowableness, rubbing its tentacles together in anticipation of watching you drive up the road on only three full functioning wheels.
Or maybe its just a fucking coincidence.
The universe doesn't hate you. Its just another day and although it feels as if it is different it isn't. You may have had a bad week, or a bad month, a bad year or a bad life. Maybe you should have checked your tire. Maybe you should have checked the tires on the Dodge Neon of your life a long time ago, and maybe you should stop blaming the universe for what is ultimately your fault, get off your lazy ass, and be proactive in your existence every day a little bit more until you manage to forge and fashion a small modicum of God damned happiness.
Maybe you should realize that a lot of people on this little globe of ours have it a lot fucking worse than you. Maybe you should learn to be grateful for all of the wonderful things you have that you don't by any rights deserve like LIFE, LIBERTY and fucking good God-damned HEALTH, you whiny little snot-nosed fucker.
Maybe you could just manage to smile a little today, and stop brooding over your supposed god-damned bad luck, take some personal responsibility for your existence and try to make the day a little better for yourself and maybe a few others if you can possibly see your way into thinking about someone else other than your fat spoiled ass for a change.
The universe does not hate you, it doesn't even know your stupid name. But the universe has for some reason allowed you to exist, and not only exist but be self aware, something that in all probability most of the rest of it does not possess. Don't waste it. Its a fine fucking gift and beautiful beyond description. The universe loves you, though it does not know you and though you do not deserve it. The universe fucking loves you because you live and have lived and know you live and know you will one day not be fucking alive which is more than 99.99999 percent of the rest of the fucking universe. You are special and you didn't know it. You are so special that there is no math or smattering of words that you can describe just how fucking special you are. Snowflakes have nothing on you. Coruscating stars in the night sky have nothing on you. You are alive damn it all, and you know it.
The universe loves you.
The universe loves you.
The UNIVERSE fucking loves YOU.