Why is it that whenever we get a sneak peak behind the curtain, we’re always disappointed? Like in the popular movie “The Wizard of Oz,” when Dorothy and gang finally get a look behind the scenes to see who is really running the show they are—what else—disappointed. It’s always the case, isn’t it? It starts when you’re a kid with Santa and just escalates from there. Be it attending the college that you thought was going to be an intellectual oasis or catching a glimpse of the kitchen in your favorite restuarant, things that get your hopes up are always sure to meltdown faster than Spears post K-Fed. Your only defense is that you become increasingly jaded, cynical and/or medicated as you get older; making you at the very least less shocked at your next disappointment.
True story: When I was about 9 years old, I was told by my father that my Great Aunt, who had been working on our family tree for quite some years, had dug up documentation showing that my family was related to Walt Disney and that we would henceforth be given free all-access passes to Disney Land and World that included, amongst other perks, a behind-the-scenes look at the theme park as well as the MGM production studios—apparently something written into the theme park policy by old Walt himself before he died. Being 9 years old, this of course excited me to no end. What could be a bigger thrill to someone of that age, right? About a month or so later, the majority of Disney was sold to shareholders, making what Walt had written into the contract null and void, and I never even got to go to the theme park one time under those guidelines. I was heart broken. Looking back at it now, however, maybe I should be grateful that I never got to go. Hearing current news of what Walt was apparently all about, it’s probably a good thing that I didn’t get a peak behind that curtain either. Besides, watching Disney movies as a child skewed my view of reality enough as a kid.
The big one that we are waiting to find out about is, of course, the afterlife. Are we in for the same rude awakening (or is it sleepening?) that we have received our entire mortal lives when we experience that as well? Based on my life experience, I expect nothing more than to die and meet a guy named Donny who will give me a half-ass (okay, so he may be half-horse, who knows) tour of the sweat labor in purgatory perpetually turning the cranks that keep the universe in motion before he finally escorts me to the small, disgusting Porto-potty that is to be my dwelling for the rest of eternity because that was the best “hell” they could rig up for me on such short notice. That’s right, even hell will be disappointing. No cool demons or blazing hell fire…just a fucking Porto-potty.
As far as an actual god goes, I consider myself agnostic—which is the frightened man’s atheist I suppose. But it goes beyond that. I am torn for another reason. In my years so far on this earth I have found one thing that really persuades me that there is a grand creator, and on thing that really convinces me that there isn’t grand creator:
Bananas convince me that there is a creator. That’s the fruit–certainly not the Woody Allen movie of the same pluralistic name.
Siamese twins connected at birth convince me that there is no creator.
I’ll let you figure out my reasoning yourselves.
By the way, was anyone else creeped out by “The Wizard of Oz”? That was a disturbing fucking movie, wasn’t it?
