The road back to sanity

Argus has had a lot of fun. He loves being insane, mostly because it brings out the insanity of others, including God. Are we to conclude that the road back to sanity is by recognizing our insanity?

Please do not get too serious in your comments. Only the insane are serious since life, itself, is the work of a jokester.

Gerry

P.S. If you can’t figure out how to respond to this in one hundred words or less, you are really mixed up and probably insane.

God is insane and androgynous for sure

Folks, Argus got such a monstrous response to his last offering here that he got quite balmy, authored the following and personally delivered it to me for posting. I disclaim responsibility for its content and do not agree or disagree with any of his conclusions.

Gerry Spence

 

By Argus Joseph Thompson

Of course, God is insane. That is, as we have seen, He or She does not know the difference between right or wrong – the legal test for insanity. For convenience, let’s call God, Henrietta, and understand that She is really a He, and that He thinks He is a She so that in the confusion Henrietta becomes an androgynous “IT.” In the end we do not know which is which and which was switched.

The foregoing is quite a wondrous and holy insight, and its truth cannot be denied since I have now confirmed the foregoing based on ultimate authority, namely the Bible. There it says, 1 Genesis 27: “So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.”

Now can’t we immediately see that God was a He, but he made humankind, which means he made both men and women, in his own image. And Eve came from Adam’s rib, which further proves that womankind had its origins in mankind. Think of it! God starts ITS work all mixed up (good title for a song). One must wonder if Henrietta wasn’t all strung out (another good title) when IT started fiddling around with the earth and the garden and dumped those naked folks in there with apples and snakes – with poison apples, no less, while there is no mention that the snakes were poisonous. But ever since we have been afraid of snakes, but we eat apples.

Instead, IT, namely Henrietta, could have furnished Adam and Eve with Orville Redenbacher’s Tender White Gourmet Popcorn in the microwave oven, which would have saved humankind from all that original sin. Instead IT waited until the 20th Century to invent the microwave oven, which, but for IT’s insanity, could have been dumped into the garden at the beginning along with the poison apples and the snakes. After all, which is harder to create, a microwave oven or poison apples and snakes? I rest my case.

God must have been utterly insane or IT would not have chosen to cause Eve, a perfectly innocent little lady, even without any clothes, to chomp down on that poison apple so that all of her children and her children’s children and their children’s children to the end of all children, now and forever, would be born in sin – on account of Henrietta’s aversion to popcorn and ITS insane love of poison apples and snakes instead. This proves, beyond doubt, that Henrietta was insane and that today IT does not know the difference between right and wrong. We must therefore pray not to God but for God. The prayer should go like this:

Dear Orville Redenbacher up in the sky,

Thou who hast taught your tender white gourmet popcorn to fly,

Please help Henrietta’s brain;

IT is quite insane.

And down here IT is causing us a lot of pain.

Amen.

Please pass this on to ten other insane persons immediately, (they are all around you) and together we can rid ourselves of sickness, death and AIG.

Yours truly,

Argus Joseph Thompson, Insane

Frolicking with the insane

Folks: We have been struggling about politics and euthanasia and other deadly subjects, and some you who have responded seem to be struggling with the same dilemma that Mr. Thompson has experienced – to understand our sanity. With Mr. Thompson’s permission, I thought it appropriate, to share his recent letter, which I hope you will find instructive.

Dear Mr. Spence,

As you know, I have long ago come to grips with my own insanity. I am, indeed, insane.

I recognize that some of what I have reported came to me in dreams, and some claim dreams are not real – that when you are dancing with Marilyn Monroe and feeling all heady and fuzzy in certain ways, and then you watch her walk over that grate in the street and her skirt blows up, that such sights and feelings are less real than when the President Bush comes on TV and says we should charge into Iraq to kill all those people over there who are terrorizing us by threatening that they will shut off our oil, and who thereby require our help in becoming democratic by being bombed. What I am trying to say is that it is hard sometimes to distinguish between what is real and what is not.

I know the experts claim that the definition of insanity is that state in which a person cannot tell the difference between reality and dreams, or, as the psychologists like to call such dreams, “hallucinations.” But we understand that those who feel drawn to examine into our hallucinations and who try to tell us what is real and what is not, are only reflecting upon their own perilous journey that keeps popping them in and out of reality like Orville Redenbacher’s Gourmet Tender White Popcorn in the microwave. So to that extent, I may be totally sane, since, although I cannot be sure about what is real and what is not, I do know that if you know that you do not know what is real and what is not, and if you know that what is not real may be real, then, reality is like beauty – it is in the eye of the beholder – which startling revelation was first provided us in 1878 by Margaret Wolfe Hungerford in her book, Molly Bawn. Ms. Hungerford had just cause to believe that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder” because she was, according to an overwhelming majority of those eyes beholding her, thought to be devastatingly ugly while she thought herself quite magnificently beautiful.

Mr. Spence, I want you to know that I have struggled so hard to recognize what is and what is not real that my brain has turned to tapioca pudding. I have dreamed both forward and backward, from the bottom to the top and vice versa. I have turned my dreams inside out and examined them carefully in my dream decoder, upon which I have a patent pending, and I have looked at the various critical issues in my life squarely in the eye with a massive assortment of glasses – my 250 strength reading glasses, my 3-D glasses, my rose colored glasses as well as innumerable brands of nationally advertised sunglasses, all in a good faith attempt to determine what is or is not real.

Therefore, since I am not able to determine absolutely what’s up and not up, I have, from time to time in my discussions with you just made it up. This is especially the case when I was popping in and out of reality or un-reality like Orville Redenbacher’s Gourmet Tender White Popcorn in the microwave oven. Some of the facts and incidents I have told you may be more or less fiction. But I am not confident which are and which are not. In the end, it makes little difference since the stranger things are the more likely they are to be true.

And remember that Freud himself must have been crazy, because how can a person, for instance, expound with authority about the taste of chocolate ice cream without having ever tasted chocolate ice cream, any more than a person can write about insanity without having experienced its hellish depths and its heavenly heights as well? Therefore, if Freud is to be taken seriously we must conclude that he was seriously insane.

And some say that Van Gogh, who chopped off an ear, was insane (which logically would render him only slightly out of balance since he chopped off only one, not two.) And Friedrich Nietzsche was clearly insane. According to his biographers, he had his greatest gestalts after the ravages of syphilis had chomped away at his frontal lobes, which is to say that we celebrate the philosophy and teaching of a man who was being strapped into bed at night in a mental hospital and who had to eat their tasteless food which, in itself, is cause for severe mental distress if not irreversible trauma, and which, therefore, renders the sanity of both Nietzsche as well as his biographers subject to serious doubt.

God, Himself or Herself, as the case may be, is not much better off because He or She has all that power and intelligence and yet does not know the difference between right and wrong — that it is wrong to let people suffer when He or She has the power to make us all deliriously happy, that He or She could, if He or She chose, let every man actually see with his own two naked eyes Marilyn Monroe, in the flesh, standing over that grate. And, as any lawyer knows, and I am a lawyer, the definition of insanity in the law is that the said subject – sometimes called the respondent – does not know the difference between right and wrong – a test best known as McNaughton’s Rule, current in most states today. Therefore, God is also insane because God obviously does not know the difference between right and wrong, which makes me feel all the more close to God.

And so, Mr. Spence, I leave it to you to determine what is real and what is not, what is right and what is not, and who, therefore is insane, and who is not. And like Orville Redenbacher always concluded his pitch, I conclude mine: “I thank you for your support.”

Signed,

Argus Joseph Thompson, Insane

A just penalty for bankers

I have been thinking of bankers. I admit, I have thought ill of them most of my life. All bankers are not bad. There are good men among thieves.

But the bankers at the top of the financial world have caused too much misery and death in this country. I am short on love and compassion for them. Many a poor soul, some innocent of any crime, have been strapped to a gurney while the law stabs its needle into their arms, men, some condemned and executed for heinous crimes, but who have been responsible for far less pain and far fewer deaths than these world bankers have caused.

We are at fault, of course. We have fallen into the belief that those who have money must be respected and trusted. We have delivered our lives and well being to them. They have betrayed us. The culture on Wall Street practices the idea that profit is morality. It is all right to steal, to gouge, to throw poor people out in the street in the cold of winter if it promotes profit. On the other hand it is moral to tell people they must buy certain cars and homes and TVs if they wish to be acceptable, even if they cannot afford it, even if they must become financial slaves to pay off the banks.

Consumerism, which at the moment is being touted by the money cartel as necessary to save the nation, is another word for slavery. We suffer only a different master. The black slave of old at least knew his master’s face. Black slavery was cruel beyond understanding. But the master was a living, recognizable being, wicked as he was, who did not hide his identity from the slave.

The slave masters today are the banks. They are faceless corporations who exercise their mammoth powers against ordinary citizens, sit in plush offices, fly in private jets and exercise their dominion over whole nations. The people they injure and kill by their profit decisions are as faceless to them as they are to their victims. Their victims are mere numbers on endless pages, victims who are now asked to save the bankers.

I am not for the death penalty, even for bankers. But if I were to choose a punishment against those who have exercised their evil power of profit over our injured and dying citizens, it would be that these bankers might drown in the tears they have wrought in pursuit of their insatiable, wicked greed.

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