Tico told me the world would be a better if more people ate a big lunch. He theorized the sleepiness that befell a full belly made the average person too tired to hate or hurt other human beings. And maybe he was right but this lunchtime lunacy is another form of violence tempting him to tear into tacos like tic tacs. You can be in anger denial and launch an assault into antipasto and land repeated blows on baked ziti. The key actions in the so-called peaceful pastime are actually militaristic and meant to subjugate (maybe a salami) or dominate (perhaps a dinner salad) and achieve a victory (of some sort). Still how does the world change if we merely act on our natures instead of altering them. Perhaps we can do both? I know it’s hard to be philosophical about french fries or academic about ice cream but it’s not a stretch to believe beer and burgers are superior to bombs and bullets. Image a universe where arguments are defused by pizza and naked violence is replaced by naked burritos. It could be said that diplomacy often fails because it counts more on clever cadence than classy catering. Liquor and lunchmeat are no cure for a furious heart fighting for just cause; yet the chance of a brighter tomorrow is possible if we pause the passion to permit a measure of peace. And this measure may be a mouth stuffed with food too busy to make things worse. A pasta might prevent war by starting a conversation or by giving jerks constipation. Either way the rush to judgement is eroding humanity and the only way to reverse the trend is to sip soup and surrender stupidity long enough to see the person across the table is not a lunchtime Lucifer but a mirror into the better angels released through fellowship. Put down the pistol and eat up. Amigo.
12 Baby Steps (And Still Lost) People generally don’t change. So when I don’t like you the first time — good chance I won’t give a rat’s ass the next time either. Maybe it’s my faith in consistency. Maybe it’s my lack of faith in humanity. But like the old cowboy movies the loner isn’t a loner because he’s antisocial — he’s alone because he can only rely on himself. Perhaps I have trust issues. But I can’t take you seriously if you sleep with a bottle or make love to a needle. It’s your business if you screw a robot but don’t call me friend. Humanity is a failed venture if we continue to trust animals more than people and if we count on machines more than men. What value are we assigning our species? What are we really saying about our place in the universe. I have no problem with a higher power. But how do we stay creatures of free will if continue to ask for help? Spiritual drug addicts are ultimately no different than moonshine drinkers at midnight. Running away from the mirror never erases the image. And twelve baby steps often lead to deeper confusion. Finding God for most of us means little if you still haven’t found yourself.
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