By David Raffin
A lot of people, especially old people, have a lot of funny notions about death. For example, they believe in the old adage that you die when it's "your time."
"Poor old Mrs. Grant. I guess it was just her time. Right there in the express checkout. Clutching 13 items to her bosom. She would have wanted it that way. A consumer to the very end."
Sometimes, a lot of people die all at the same time. Three-hundred and sixteen people- all with the sudden urge to go to Idaho. Not knowing why- but buying one-way tickets all the same. Guys on the onramp saying, "I don't know why I'm here. I don't even know anybody in Boise. I just feel compelled to go. It's like I've got no choice."
All these people slam into a mountainside.
Why? It saves on the paperwork.
It's a little-known fact, but the holy ghost hates paperwork. Stuck with all the drudge work, he takes advantage of all the shortcuts he can.
A plane crashes into the mountainside and the survivors resort to cannibalism before subcoming to the cold. Staggered departure times- One form. Sure, lots of names on it, but only one form. He stamps it and that's the end of it- it's on to the next task- It's somebody else's time.
We have plenty of other outdated concepts. While we're on the subject, let's talk about the bullshit we refer to as science and the scientific method. The double blind study. Let's talk about that. Control groups- how do we really know that vitamin C helps stay off heart attack and that aspirin wards off stroke? Maybe the control group was made up of unfortunate individuals. Maybe the active group was never going to come down with anything in the first place. Not their time. Pure happenstance. Dr. Jung is sitting somewhere giggling and mumbling under his breath about synchronicity while watching the new arrivals dribble in and complain that they never got to Boise, not that they really wanted to go, but really, the nerve...
Sometimes there are mass shootings. Sometimes, a guy has just had enough. Anytime there is a tragedy at a supermarket, schoolyard or McDonalds in this great country; anytime a federal building is leveled into the rubble from which it spring; anytime there is a political assassination of any note, I say something that is bound to piss off the masses.
Anytime you can rationally or irrationally point the finger of blame toward specific individuals for a crime of this type, people get all holier than though and talk about it over their espressos and lattes. "Throw the book at 'im," they say. "Filth," they call them. That's when I get indignant and turn with a cold, hard look on my face and say, "He had his reasons." Then I go back to whatever I was doing. And the people keep their distance after that, which was all I was asking in the first place.
It's true after all. No matter what happens, people have their reasons. Sometimes they have more than one. Sometimes they have a litany of reasons. Like many of the saints.
When these incidents of mass murder occur people all say the same thing: "So many died before their time."
BULLSHIT! It was their time! Had it not been their time, they would be here with you and I, laughing at someone else's misfortune. The Germans have a word for that. They call it schadenfroh.
People don't like it when you say that. People tend to have these feelings about mass murder. Unless the mass murder occurs at the hands of the state. Then people generally couldn't give a shit. In human society, mass murder is a sin, but genocide is a means to an end.
And now that we're laying it all out on the table, let's talk about the so-called "tragedy" of drunk driving.
When people die on the road, usually resulting in some manner from the imbibing of alcohol, people gather in roadside vigils and leave small crosses and flowers.
Roadside vigils mean one thing to me- Free Flowers. If it weren't for the high death rate on our roads and highways, I would be forced to pay out of pocket for flowers on those occasions I need them. Fresh flowers for the taking. That's nothing to sneeze at. Not to mention all those small crosses. You never know when your going to need to crucify something small.
And it keeps the florists in the black as well, I may add. You've got to think of the economy, as they have so often reminded me.
The only thing I caution against is taking the flowers while the roadside vigil is still standing there across the street. You should always wait until they have just left. This is only proper manners, and without proper observance of manners we are lost.
Sometimes you see the vigil up close, as you round a blind corner and just miss hitting a figure with his arms loaded with floral offerings.
If you hit them, there is already a crowd of mourners ready with flowers and crosses. I'd say they were ready to go. It's karma.
I say leave the corpses there to rot. Let the buzzards pick them clean. That's natures way. Buzzards have got to eat. After all, it's not their time.