Ahh, Monday Morning. The sun is rising, the birds are singing–and I’m bitterly angry at Adam, Mr. Former Mud, who said, “Oh, sure, I’ll take a bite of this exact fruit God commanded me not to eat. I’m sure that when he said, ‘Never, ever eat the fruit off this tree,’ what God really meant was, ‘Never, ever eat too much of the fruit off this tree.’ So yeah, I’ll take a bite! Give it here! What could it hurt?”
What could it hurt. Moron!
I wish we were descended from apes. Even an ape wouldn’t have been that stupid. You can train an ape. But the first man? Not so much.
And because, lo those many years ago, Adam wouldn’t listen to God, today I have to listen to my alarm clock. When, like hard-hatted rats attacking my spine with a jackhammer, my alarm clock shrilly bleats at me to get out of bed, it’s only a matter of time before I’m basically forced to think about whatever infernal work I’m going to have to do that day.
Work! The very word is a cuss word to me! How utterly I loathe it! I am decidedly anti-labor. If I were British, I would vote for the Labor Party—then ditch the “Labor” part. I support the Labor Unions—minus the labor part. If I were a doctor, and a woman said she was going into labor, I’d run.
Actual Effort and enjoying my life go together like lowfat soy milk and Cocoa Pebbles. Forget it. And it’s not like I haven’t tried to combine work with having an enjoyable life, either. I have. I know that that the key to a happy life is getting paid to do what you love. Well, what I love to do is lie on my couch and watch Seinfeld, The Office, The Simpsons, and old Jerry Lewis movies. But do you think anyone has the decency to pay me for doing that? Well, think again, Uncle Bucko. You wouldn’t believe all the times I’ve screamed at some neighbor passing by outside my house, “Hey! I’m doing what I love! Fork over some money!” But do they ever stop and pony up? No.
Thus have I been forced to learn, yet again, that the proverbial “they”—whoever “they” even are—are evil liars.
That stupid Adam! Why did he have to eat that apple? And we don’t even know if it was an apple. All we know is it was some kind of produce. Produce! My life has been ruined because Adam couldn’t resist gnawing on some produce!
You know, if the Bible said, “And so did God commandeth unto Adam, ‘Do not ye eat of the fruit of this tree, which produceth the corndog,'” I could maybe understand what happened. I’d eat an aardvark snout if it came deep fried on a stick. But I have to get off my couch for produce?
It’s just too wrong to contemplate.