Okay, I admit it. I’m middle-aged. Such a nice, bland term for
reaching the middle years of your lifespan. But it’s a lie. Because that
would assume that I am going to live to be over 100...well over 100...
But grant me the illusion. Middle-aged. Middle-income.
It’s time I had a talk with the Big Boss. A very short conversation,
as it happened.
Me: God Sir, I have a complaint. I’m over 50 now, and while it’s
really nice not to have to deal with all that baby-making crap, what the hell
is happening to my body? These weren’t the boobs I came in on. What’s
that all about?
Voiceover: My child, I needed to invent gravity to keep you all on
earth and not floating up to heaven before your time. What starts UP must
come down. So I give you this – gravity isn’t a law in heaven. You
get them back when you pass through the pearly gates.
Me: Oh dear. You haven’t been paying very close attention to my
life lately, have you… So here’s the thing. Do I get them back if I go
the other way?
Voiceover: My child, how can you even think of asking such a thing?
Me: It’s all those college science classes. If gravity pulls things
DOWN on earth, does it pull things UP from Hell? Just so I know my
options, you see…
Voiceover: I’m thinking your options are closing down quickly.
Me: I’m thinking I’m talking to the wrong Big Guy.
And just because this is an equal opportunity column, I’m suggesting that
all you guys out there might want to go to Hell. Not just because I’ll
probably be there. But if gravity indeed pulls UP…
Apparently the big guy wasn't finished with me.
Voiceover: My child, let me make this easy for you. Stay where you are, for now.
Me: Is that a celestial order?
Voiceover: Nope. It's beyond my control, I'm afraid. On November 8, Hell will close and move to Earth. Blame the American election.