Letter from a Facebook Reader
by C. M. Albrecht
This letter will take you completely by surprise, but I saw your profile on Facebook and liked what I read. Actually, I have two reasons for writing to you. First, you’re not too smart, but that’s okay. (It’s the smart ones I have trouble with), and you seem to be a level-headed sort of fellow. Besides, on your Facebook page you wrote that you believe I’m kind of a Mel Brooks only with a sadistic streak. Okay, I kind of like the Mel Brooks part but I got to tell you, that got me humming Springtime for Hitler for eight solid weeks night and day. I almost caused a forty-day flood in your neighborhood because of that, but after consideration, I realized you had what you thought was good reason for your assessment, except that I’m not sadistic. Not in the least. Mankind wholly fabricated that sadistic stuff. Like playing a cruel joke on Abraham. I wouldn’t do that. That’s not funny. Not at all. I think maybe, because of spelling complexities, man got holy mixed up with wholly.
I’m just saying. I’m trying to be generous here.
Second, there has been so much misunderstanding about me and the world in general, and while it’s bad to be constantly misquoted, it really bugs me to have completely fictitious bunkum attributed to me, so while I’m in the neighborhood, I decided it was time I said a word in my own defense.
So. Where to begin? I suppose I should do like everybody says, and start at the beginning. Okay, the first big thing is creating heaven and earth. That’s where all the misunderstandings started. Everybody says I did it in six days and on the seventh day I rested. Come on!
Besides, back then days didn’t even have numbers let alone names, but people are still arguing over what day of the week they’re supposed to put down their weapons and worship me. Even if I did rest on the seventh day, what is the logic of believing that means you have to holster your gun and spend the seventh day losing time on the battlefield?
So okay, I created man and called him Adam. He looked nice. Then I thought I should give him somebody for a companion, so I created Eve. Boy, was that some kind of blooper! But hey, nobody’s perfect.
First thing Eve did was trick him into that apple thing. Then she started nagging him to get a job. No more hanging out at the pub with his pals. No lying around in his man cave watching football. She griped if he dragged home a two ton stegosaurus for dinner. It was never enough. Poor Adam wasn’t romantic. When this all started he used to bring her necklaces made from pterodactyl neck bones and showy skunk fur collars to show off her best raptor hide outfit. She didn’t even want him to have girlfriends. Would you believe?
Okay, so we all make mistakes. I figured it would work out. Eventually, despite, and sometimes because of their differences, some of which I think are pretty darn good after all, men and women managed to get along. Well, most of the time.
Recently I heard Governor Ventura say that nearly all the wars throughout time have been caused by religion, and he’s got that pretty well nailed all right. Almost from day one — I suppose I should really say day eight — a good segment of the population came up with the idea that what I really enjoy is a good old-fashioned bloodbath. They started off with lambs and chickens and like that, but pretty soon most people decided I’d really be a lot happier to see humans getting knocked off, preferably people they didn’t like anyway and preferably in bulk. Some people think I really get off on a good bombing, the more victims the better. I like it even better when the perpetrator blows up with. For some inexplicable reason these mass murderers have the idea that I’m waiting to welcome them with open arms and a big “Hello!” If you think I want some lunatic bomber dining at my table, then I’m writing to the wrong person.
And throughout history, people keep coming up with phony stories, like how I slipped in during the night and talked to them and told them they were “special”. I whisper in their ear and send them forth to spread the word to the people. That makes for laugh-out-loud fun movies with George Burns and Morgan Freeman, but really…
Okay, if these “special” people can get a good living and lots of attractive young women out of their “revelations”, what the hey? And that includes no taxes, big cars and an entourage. I don’t know whether to be angry or to laugh. It does irritate me that people make this stuff up, but on the other hand, seeing how lame their followers are, I can’t help laughing at the same time. How can people be so gullible about that stuff? It won’t even fly in your own courts. I can see Perry Mason right now, lumbering to his feet, pounding on his affidavits and yelling “Hearsay evidence, your Honor! Hearsay evidence!”
Of course that’s hearsay evidence. Your scientists are daily discovering just how big the universe is and it’s still growing. Here I am, hopping all over like a bunny during Easter Week and people expect me to hang around and whisper in their ears. It should be obvious to even to the most fanatic that it would be much more cost-effective and efficient if I just sent out a letter such as this instead of occasionally whispering in the ear of some over-sexed wannabe showman who’s looking for an easy buck and a tax dodge.
Over the years I’ve watched them come and go. Most of them are their own worst enemies. They bring themselves down through their own efforts. Everybody knows power corrupts, yet people still stand around, and in fascination watch it corrupt. They even help by doling out money, as well as sometimes their wives and their virgin daughters just to show good faith.
I got to tell you, I just don’t know. When I started the world I thought it would be a good thing. Nice people running around pursuing their interests. I thought they’d all get along, and by leaving them alone, I figured they’d say, “Hey, we’re all alone on this little planet in this big universe, so if we hope to survive and prosper, it’s up to us to work together for the benefit of all.”
Didn’t work out that way. Go figure.
Well, FYI, you’re still on your own here. I can’t hang around babysitting you guys. I have a life too, you know. So go forth and tell it on the mountain. Oh, these days I guess you prefer stuff like “Alert the media!” Whatever.
An interested observer
Oh man! Now I’m going to be humming that damned Springtime for Hitler again for I don’t even know how long! If I was going to whisper something in your ear right now, I’d say, “Get yourself a rowboat, kid.”