I hate metaphors.

They say that life is like a lot things.

They say that life is like a box of chocolates: you never know what you’re going to get. (Forrest Gump)

They say that life is a pill which none of us can bear to swallow without gilding. (Samuel Johnson)

They say that life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans. (John Lennon)

But those just seem like clever puns, comparisons that could be made with anything. I could make a pun about life and cats that would be just as clever and equally as meaningless. In fact, I think I will: Life is like a cat. Sometimes it’s important to paws meow and then, lick your wounds and scratch your head. Or like a dog: you can spend all your life chasing cars, but then you’d never have time to bury bones. Or like semen: it’s disgusting, unwanted, but, if you’re lucky, you’ll make a baby. You get the point.

They say to live your life and not concern yourself with the lives of others. Done.

They keep telling me to get a life. I wasn’t aware life was a video game, and there were 1UP’s floating around. I’ll keep my eyes peeled.

They keep telling me that I have life worth living, but that seems circular at best and deluded – borderline psychotic – at worst. Life isn’t worth living. Life is living. Those idiots.

They tell me to live life to the fullest. What does that mean? This vague speaking in proverbs is infuriating. Maybe for me, drinking whiskey and chain smoking until the day I die is living life to the fullest, while prolonging this miserable existence by eating healthy and staying fit is what others consider living life to the fullest. Both are valid options. Mine is more fun.

They say the value of your life is measured by how you’ve affected those around you. This is stupid: you will die, then there will be a (very short, cosmically speaking) period of time, and then they will die. And then the next generation will die. Then the next. Pretty soon, there will be no one left to remember you, let alone care about what impact you may have had on the physical and social world you left behind. Eventually, we will all be dead – the collective human race – and we will be replaced by another sentient life form that has equally deluded and arrogant ideas about the importance of legacy.

All these billionaires who bequeath obscene sums of money (fractions of their fortunes, mind you) upon charities, or make broad philanthropic gestures as they become aware of their mortality and the futility of their fortunes, are idiots. No one will remember them in a hundred years, which might as well be the blink of an eye. It seems that the only way to ensure that you will be remembered for any length of time is by starting a major war, enslaving a population, or being a fictional character in some archaic book where you get crucified by a lynch mob, which is sort of the same thing.

In the end, life is just the period of time between when we are born and when we die. I think read that somewhere recently. Probably Philip Roth. Possibly in American Pastoral, a thoroughly mediocre novel with that singular sliver of wisdom. Fill the period of time with whatever metaphor you wish, but in the end, you will die. Like everyone else.

Except Zombie Jesus. And Mick Jagger.


3 thoughts on “Bummer

  1. That’s certainly one way of looking at it, but it doesn’t sound very productive or fun. Why would you subject yourself to that? There are little moments in life that are worth staying healthy for, like hugging an old friend you haven’t seen in years, playing with your dog on a lazy afternoon, or seeing a double rainbow.

    I’d say dwelling on all the negatives is the easy way out. So is thinking all is hopeless. It is harder to live the life to the fullest. And if it is all for nothing, so what. At least you had fun doing it and you got a chance to bring something positive to people you care about.

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