Do you ever get picked on?

I’ve been having problems lately at doll school.  This Chucky doll has been making fun of me, teasing me for having a visible fusion seam that runs around my entire body, of being monochromatic, of always wearing the same dress.  He’s relentless and I feel persecuted.

But I’ve gotten to thinking about people who have suffered truly abominable persecutions. Take St. Sebastian.  He was tied to a post and shot full of arrows and when that didn’t kill him he was clubbed to death-just for having unacceptable religious beliefs.  Then there was Giordano Bruno who had his tongue cut out and was burned at the stake just for having the audacity to suggest there were probably intelligent beings on other planets.

Well, I guess I can deal with Chucky.  I’ll just ignore him; if that doesn’t work maybe I can get my friend Ken to teach him some manners.  I know, I know, retribution isn’t the answer but sometimes it sure is pleasing to contemplate.

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What Hell is like

I just finished reading Dante’s Inferno.  In case you don’t know it’s a book about what Hell is like.  In it, Dante tells about being guided by the poet Virgil into the underworld, which is this huge pit containing the souls of all the people who have died and been found guilty of evil doings without having done anything, penitence-wise, that would have maybe gotten them to a more favorable eternal location.

The first level of the underworld is for people who haven’t been baptized and, basically, all they have to do is wait around forever, but as Dante and Virgil go down deeper and deeper they discover each successive level holds souls who have been more evil than the last and are made to suffer worse conditions.

On level five heretics are encased in fiery graves and watched over by the Furies and Medusa.  On level seven violent souls are submerged in a river of boiling blood and watched over by the Minotaur so if they come up for air they get shoved back down.

When the poets get to the very bottom they find Satan encased in ice and unable to move, so they climb up his huge body and escape from Hell.

Boy, Dante sure had a good imagination.  The amount of detail he goes in to is amazing.  He must of thought about Hell for a long time.  I wonder if it was because he felt guilty about something or if he was just trying to warn people to walk the straight and narrow.

Anyway, I think people today think differently about what Hell will be like than they did in Dante’s day.  It probably will have more to do with the loss of mobile communication devices and reality TV.

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Nothing new under the sun

I was reading Ecclesiastes the other day.  One verse says: ‘what has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.’  The whole book is about the meaninglessness of life.

From the other side of the aisle, Nietzsche says in an infinite universe with no God to direct it, the finite experiences of human existence must necessarily repeat themselves eternally; over and over and over……….

Seems pretty depressing to think there can never be anything new and fresh.  Still, the other day I was having a conversation with my alter ego, the daring flamboyant me who’s always trying to get me to push my limits, to step beyond my comfort zone.  Daring me convinced shy, reserved me to accept an invitation to tell my story to an auditorium full of junior high students.  When the time came I was petrified but somehow made it through.  They even applauded and I felt pretty good about it in the end.  It gave me a new found confidence.

Still, I don’t see it happening again.  I know my true nature and I’m not talking to her any more.

contemplating eternal recurrence3

walking on water

While checking out at the super market the other day I happened to glance over at the tabloids. On one, the cover story was, ‘Jesus doll walks on water.’  Usually I don’t pay much attention to these journals, the sensationalistic stories usually being so incredibly ridiculous, but this one caught my attention being about a doll and all.  So, I bought a copy and later when I had time, read that a young boy in Florida was playing with his Jesus doll beside a pond one day when the doll suddenly proceeded on its own impetus across the pond toward an old lady on the other side.  The doll, so the story related, moved up to and touched the old woman who was immediately relieved of the arthritic pain she had been suffering.  The doll then turned around and moved back across the pond to the little boy.

Wow!  There were pictures and everything.

As much as I enjoy a doll getting positive attention my skeptical nature questioned the accuracy of the account.  While dolls may certainly have independent natures, performing miracles, even for a Jesus doll, seems pretty incredible.  But, maybe where there’s a will there’s a way.

I think I’ll take a bath.

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Thoughts of Death

Sometimes, in the cold darkness of winter particularly, I can’t help but think about how it’s all going to end.  It’s incredibly depressing to contemplate one’s own mortality; Even plastic breaks down over time.  I guess the fear of irrefutable extinction is what drives people to religion.  The hope for a beautiful afterlife must be a wonderful pacifier.  But what if the after-life isn’t so beautiful, what if it’s terrible, tortuous.  If I were to accept the premise that there truly is an afterlife how could I be certain I was headed in the preferred direction?  When I think about it, throughout history there are more depictions of Hell than of Paradise.

I read somewhere that one is born of nature and to nature one returns after death; seems sufficient to me. gatesofdis3