On the day of President Obama's national address Congressman John Lewis from Georgia announced a bold new initiative he called the “Stimulate Your Package” plan. The thrust of the program would provide vouchers to American men redeemable for free Viagra.
“In this economy people ain’t going out and spending no money,” he said. “If they’re staying home, they might as well have a good time.”
Lewis was recently chastised for reversing his position on closing the prison at Guantanamo Bay. He explained, “When y’all was talking about closing GitMo I thought you meant welfare or something. In my district they be saying they need to git mo’ food stamps and git mo’ unemployment checks.”
Early reaction to the announcement indicates rare bipartisan support. Former President Bill Clinton said, “I think it goes without saying where I stand on this important issue.” Vice-President Joe Biden, known to repeat his words, outdid himself when he remarked, “It’s hard out there right now for hard-working Americans, and it’s even harder for guys who have a hard time getting hard. Did I say that? What did I say?”
Stiff opposition is expected from women’s rights groups. But Kandi Cane, prostitute advocacy spokesperson, said her group, Chicks for Tricks, is not among them. “Woo hoo,” was her reaction to the news. “Our girls give it a ‘two legs up’!”
Pfizer, maker of Viagra, will soon promote the initiative by distributing free lapel pins with the familiar blue triangular shape. Company official Woodrow “Woody” Mourning said, “Stimulate Your Package” is what we need to get Americans off their feet. This is the change Pfizer has been waiting for.”
Celebrities have been quick to respond. Rapper Snoop Dogg, known for his album Doggystyle, uttered a string of noises that all ended with “izzle.” Contacted on his couch, reclusive TV star Butthead commented, “Uh-h-h-huh-huh-huh-----you said-------package.”
As of this writing the position of missionaries is unknown but expected to remain horizontal.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
WHY IT'S GOOD TO HAVE B.O.
We’re constantly inundated with the results of new studies about everything under the sun. Who thinks of these things, who’s paying for them (I hope to God it’s not us taxpayers), and how can you really trust the findings? Oat bran—it’s good for you—no it’s not—well, maybe it is. Vitamin E---the miracle cure for whatever ails you—oops, scratch that, and quit taking supplements too. Geez, experts, will you make up your damn minds?
Here are two new studies relating to men that caught my eye. One claims that smarter men not only have more brainpower but also more and better sperm. I don't know about you, but as I’ve traveled down the Yellow Brick Road of life I’ve encountered a LOT more scarecrows than Wizards. Perhaps we can surmise that intelligent guys’ thoughts are centered between their ears whereas knuckleheads are focused more between their legs. Unfortunately quantity is winning out over quality and it seems inmates are taking over the asylum. Everywhere I go I feel more and more like that kid in The Sixth Sense---I see dumb people.
Another study claims women can tell the difference between a man’s “regular” smell and his “sexual” smell. I’ve gotta doubt the validity of this one from the get-go. When I was in high school my scent surely approximated that of a rabbit in heat but the only scoring I managed was on my SAT. Must have been wearing too much English Leather cologne.
Speaking of which, check out the methodology of this study. Men were asked not to wear anything scented for two days, including deodorant. One day they placed a pad under their armpits that collected sweat while doing sexual things like watching pornography; the next day they switched to a dry pad when they were not doing sexual things. Then women actually smelled both of the pads while hooked up to a machine that recorded their brain waves.
Wow. I don’t know about you, but one day without deodorant and I’m pretty “ripe.” After two days I’d smell like a rotting corpse. You might not be surprised to learn that the women reacted differently to the pads. In the first case areas of the brain were activated related to emotion, smell, and social response. As in, “Yikes. This guy reeks. Get me out of here so I can puke!.” The non-sexual smells didn’t activate this area of the brain. What did you expect, you intellectual idiots—the poor women were catatonic!
Taken at face value perhaps we can conclude from these two studies that smart men should watch lots of porn and stop wearing deodorant, thereby increasing the chances of unleashing their superior spermpower on the ladies and producing outstanding offspring (unless they hook up with the checkout girl at Dollar General--then all bets are off). Guys, go forth and stultify. And hey, dummies, I may have an old bottle of Canoe around here somewhere for you. We need you to stop---and smell like roses.
Here are two new studies relating to men that caught my eye. One claims that smarter men not only have more brainpower but also more and better sperm. I don't know about you, but as I’ve traveled down the Yellow Brick Road of life I’ve encountered a LOT more scarecrows than Wizards. Perhaps we can surmise that intelligent guys’ thoughts are centered between their ears whereas knuckleheads are focused more between their legs. Unfortunately quantity is winning out over quality and it seems inmates are taking over the asylum. Everywhere I go I feel more and more like that kid in The Sixth Sense---I see dumb people.
Another study claims women can tell the difference between a man’s “regular” smell and his “sexual” smell. I’ve gotta doubt the validity of this one from the get-go. When I was in high school my scent surely approximated that of a rabbit in heat but the only scoring I managed was on my SAT. Must have been wearing too much English Leather cologne.
Speaking of which, check out the methodology of this study. Men were asked not to wear anything scented for two days, including deodorant. One day they placed a pad under their armpits that collected sweat while doing sexual things like watching pornography; the next day they switched to a dry pad when they were not doing sexual things. Then women actually smelled both of the pads while hooked up to a machine that recorded their brain waves.
Wow. I don’t know about you, but one day without deodorant and I’m pretty “ripe.” After two days I’d smell like a rotting corpse. You might not be surprised to learn that the women reacted differently to the pads. In the first case areas of the brain were activated related to emotion, smell, and social response. As in, “Yikes. This guy reeks. Get me out of here so I can puke!.” The non-sexual smells didn’t activate this area of the brain. What did you expect, you intellectual idiots—the poor women were catatonic!
Taken at face value perhaps we can conclude from these two studies that smart men should watch lots of porn and stop wearing deodorant, thereby increasing the chances of unleashing their superior spermpower on the ladies and producing outstanding offspring (unless they hook up with the checkout girl at Dollar General--then all bets are off). Guys, go forth and stultify. And hey, dummies, I may have an old bottle of Canoe around here somewhere for you. We need you to stop---and smell like roses.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
RANDOM OBSERVATIONS
Why is it that everybody slows down on the freeway when a cop has pulled someone over and his lights are flashing? Wake up, people---he’s busy! If there was ever a time to step on the gas and get a little crazy, it’s now. Do you really think he’s going to leave the other guy on the side of the road, jump back in his patrol car and come after you? Drop the Pavlovian response and take at least a stroll on the wild side.
There’s a sign on the door of the post office that says, “No pets allowed. Seeing-eye dogs only.” Leave it to our government to create a written message specifically for the only people who can’t read it.
Really smart people sent astronauts to the moon. They can put all the words in the Library of Congress on the head of a pin. So why hasn’t anybody ever been able to come up with a better way to get a damn milk carton open? Nothing has changed since I was getting those little containers in the cafeteria in elementary school. It takes a crowbar and chisel to get the stupid things open, and the triangular spout ends up mutilated beyond recognition. The best idea anyone can think of is to put a hole in the side of the top with a cap on it? That’s how prisoners break out of jail, for godsakes; we’ve gotta be able to do better than that.
Any oddities you’d like to share?
There’s a sign on the door of the post office that says, “No pets allowed. Seeing-eye dogs only.” Leave it to our government to create a written message specifically for the only people who can’t read it.
Really smart people sent astronauts to the moon. They can put all the words in the Library of Congress on the head of a pin. So why hasn’t anybody ever been able to come up with a better way to get a damn milk carton open? Nothing has changed since I was getting those little containers in the cafeteria in elementary school. It takes a crowbar and chisel to get the stupid things open, and the triangular spout ends up mutilated beyond recognition. The best idea anyone can think of is to put a hole in the side of the top with a cap on it? That’s how prisoners break out of jail, for godsakes; we’ve gotta be able to do better than that.
Any oddities you’d like to share?
Saturday, February 7, 2009
ABOUT FACE (BOOK)
Awhile back my daughter told me I should get a Facebook page. Facebook? I’m, like, um--------OK?.?. So I set one up and it’s kinda fun, right? I’ve gotten in touch with a few MIA folks and generally enjoy the comments & photos people share.
But in other ways social networking’s not working for me. I can’t help but notice that some members seem to treat this site as a play-by-play commentary on their not-so-interesting life. Seriously, I don’t really care that you woke up with a bloody booger in your nose (TMI), that you’re constipated (WAY TMI), that you’re tired (who isn’t?), or that you’re making chili for dinner (although that may solve the constipation problem).
What in the hell has happened that people openly want to share not just with me, but the whole world, the most mundane details of their existence? Would you ever pick up the phone, call someone, and say, “I’m home from the cleaners.”? God, if you do I pray it’s not me on the other end of the connection. I’d rather talk to a telemarketer.
As best as I can figure, this phenomenon parallels the behavior of folks in their cars. Someone will blatantly cut in front of you right before an exit ramp on the freeway, but they would NEVER do that with their shopping cart in the supermarket checkout line (shoutout to Adrian—I know you’re saying, “In Germany, oh yes they would!.” But interestingly there they wouldn’t do it with their cars, so it’s true in reverse, right?). Drivers act like—and admit it, you may be one of them—sometimes I am, “I’m invisible and anonymous---and I didn’t really do that just now; it’s this damn car!! Chevy Cobalt’s are so aggressive!!.”
Car—keyboard—same thing—it’s not really the in-the-flesh you, you’re instead this vaguely disembodied being who is somehow empowered to behave differently than you would in person. Maniacal drivers are a threat to themselves and everyone around them; with these social networks there’s certainly no harm in people announcing to all their every mood and activity. I’m just curious why they think anybody really wants to know.
“I just shot a wildebeest in my backyard”—now that’s worth reporting.
“I found a cure for cancer and I’m not telling”—you’re an asshole but, wow, I’m impressed.
“I just figured my outfit out!” (I looking at that live post right now)—not so much.
Well, I need to go to the bathroom and I’m sore today and it’s time to start dinner and I can’t wait to watch the Grammies and I’ve got to go put together an outfit. Till next time, keep posting and hope we’re still BFF!
But in other ways social networking’s not working for me. I can’t help but notice that some members seem to treat this site as a play-by-play commentary on their not-so-interesting life. Seriously, I don’t really care that you woke up with a bloody booger in your nose (TMI), that you’re constipated (WAY TMI), that you’re tired (who isn’t?), or that you’re making chili for dinner (although that may solve the constipation problem).
What in the hell has happened that people openly want to share not just with me, but the whole world, the most mundane details of their existence? Would you ever pick up the phone, call someone, and say, “I’m home from the cleaners.”? God, if you do I pray it’s not me on the other end of the connection. I’d rather talk to a telemarketer.
As best as I can figure, this phenomenon parallels the behavior of folks in their cars. Someone will blatantly cut in front of you right before an exit ramp on the freeway, but they would NEVER do that with their shopping cart in the supermarket checkout line (shoutout to Adrian—I know you’re saying, “In Germany, oh yes they would!.” But interestingly there they wouldn’t do it with their cars, so it’s true in reverse, right?). Drivers act like—and admit it, you may be one of them—sometimes I am, “I’m invisible and anonymous---and I didn’t really do that just now; it’s this damn car!! Chevy Cobalt’s are so aggressive!!.”
Car—keyboard—same thing—it’s not really the in-the-flesh you, you’re instead this vaguely disembodied being who is somehow empowered to behave differently than you would in person. Maniacal drivers are a threat to themselves and everyone around them; with these social networks there’s certainly no harm in people announcing to all their every mood and activity. I’m just curious why they think anybody really wants to know.
“I just shot a wildebeest in my backyard”—now that’s worth reporting.
“I found a cure for cancer and I’m not telling”—you’re an asshole but, wow, I’m impressed.
“I just figured my outfit out!” (I looking at that live post right now)—not so much.
Well, I need to go to the bathroom and I’m sore today and it’s time to start dinner and I can’t wait to watch the Grammies and I’ve got to go put together an outfit. Till next time, keep posting and hope we’re still BFF!
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
TURN OUT THE LIGHTS, THE PARTY'S OVER
With all the media attention on the switchover from analog to digital TV this month, you may have missed another significant piece of legislation that was quietly voted into law last December. Did you know that Congress has banned the use of incandescent bulbs by 2014?
That’s right, like it or not, we’re all going to be forced to have those weird-looking Dairy Queen bulbs in every socket in our homes. Now you may already be using and loving them but seriously, is this the kind of intervention in our personal lives we want from our government?
Oh, incandescent bulbs put out too much heat, they say. Whatever. During cold weather isn’t that a good thing? It means maybe the furnace won’t have to come on so much and use even more energy. Hell, my wife says I radiate too much heat under the covers but she’s not banning me to the sofa---um, yet.
The new bulbs last 5 times longer, they say. Well, guess what, they cost 6 times more (50 cents vs. $3), so that’s a big incentive, huh? These are the same people that got us a trillion dollar national debt, so their math skills are dubious at best.
Guess what? Those curly-q’s contain mercury, and there’s proper concern about exposure with breakage and disposal. Experts say a solution to the problem is at least 5 years away, but did that stop the Greeniacs from charging ahead?
Look, we turn off the lights when we leave a room and we recycle (although I still struggle with the concept of washing the trash before it goes in the bin. Is it just me?). I’m not an obstructionist, but I think we need to be careful about making laws that nobody asked for.
This intrusion is a pathetic “symbolism over substance” gimmick wrapped in the flag of the global warming scam. Didn’t we have an Ice Age awhile back? If dinosaurs had representative government back then their Congress could have passed (pardon the pun in advance) pro-farting legislation to create more methane gas in the atmosphere and avert their demise.
How lucky we are our elected officials have “seen the light” and are focused on important solutions like banning incandescent bulbs. Maybe next they’ll incentivize us to buy over-priced hybrid cars on which we’ll never recoup our investment. Oh, yeah, they already did that too.
(Sigh)
That’s right, like it or not, we’re all going to be forced to have those weird-looking Dairy Queen bulbs in every socket in our homes. Now you may already be using and loving them but seriously, is this the kind of intervention in our personal lives we want from our government?
Oh, incandescent bulbs put out too much heat, they say. Whatever. During cold weather isn’t that a good thing? It means maybe the furnace won’t have to come on so much and use even more energy. Hell, my wife says I radiate too much heat under the covers but she’s not banning me to the sofa---um, yet.
The new bulbs last 5 times longer, they say. Well, guess what, they cost 6 times more (50 cents vs. $3), so that’s a big incentive, huh? These are the same people that got us a trillion dollar national debt, so their math skills are dubious at best.
Guess what? Those curly-q’s contain mercury, and there’s proper concern about exposure with breakage and disposal. Experts say a solution to the problem is at least 5 years away, but did that stop the Greeniacs from charging ahead?
Look, we turn off the lights when we leave a room and we recycle (although I still struggle with the concept of washing the trash before it goes in the bin. Is it just me?). I’m not an obstructionist, but I think we need to be careful about making laws that nobody asked for.
This intrusion is a pathetic “symbolism over substance” gimmick wrapped in the flag of the global warming scam. Didn’t we have an Ice Age awhile back? If dinosaurs had representative government back then their Congress could have passed (pardon the pun in advance) pro-farting legislation to create more methane gas in the atmosphere and avert their demise.
How lucky we are our elected officials have “seen the light” and are focused on important solutions like banning incandescent bulbs. Maybe next they’ll incentivize us to buy over-priced hybrid cars on which we’ll never recoup our investment. Oh, yeah, they already did that too.
(Sigh)
Friday, January 30, 2009
TAKE MY IDENTITY---PLEASE!!
I know identity theft is a growing problem, but I swear there are some days when I would like to leave the windows down and the key in the ignition and pray for someone to steal mine so I could get another one. No, that wouldn’t work because then I would have to steal someone else’s. Maybe I could post a barter ad on Craig’s List—“WM willing to trade lives. Serious inquiries only. Wife and kids do not convey.”
But identity theft can take other forms. Look at Journey. I saw a tribute band awhile back and they were very credible. The lead singer kinda looked like Steve Perry and was spot-on with the vocals. Let’s face it—Steve Perry is Journey; the other guys are totally anonymous.
Ironically, the “real” Journey was coming to town a couple of weeks later, and I got to thinking that since they’ve got that Filipino guy singing lead the group has turned into a tribute band of themselves. They’ve stolen their own identity! I’m glad I only paid $5 to see those other guys for basically the same show.
Maybe someone will figure out how to do a secret identity theft. While Superman’s saving Metropolis Clark Kent’s identity vanishes, or Bruce Wayne’s persona disappears as Batman is chasing the Riddler. Superman would have to freeze his butt off at the Fortress of Solitude, and poor Batman would be homeless, living in the Batmobile. Halloween is the only day they could wander around in public
Oops, gotta go—already got a hit on my Craig’s List post. What? Rod Blagojevich? Come on, dude—I said serious inquiries only!
But identity theft can take other forms. Look at Journey. I saw a tribute band awhile back and they were very credible. The lead singer kinda looked like Steve Perry and was spot-on with the vocals. Let’s face it—Steve Perry is Journey; the other guys are totally anonymous.
Ironically, the “real” Journey was coming to town a couple of weeks later, and I got to thinking that since they’ve got that Filipino guy singing lead the group has turned into a tribute band of themselves. They’ve stolen their own identity! I’m glad I only paid $5 to see those other guys for basically the same show.
Maybe someone will figure out how to do a secret identity theft. While Superman’s saving Metropolis Clark Kent’s identity vanishes, or Bruce Wayne’s persona disappears as Batman is chasing the Riddler. Superman would have to freeze his butt off at the Fortress of Solitude, and poor Batman would be homeless, living in the Batmobile. Halloween is the only day they could wander around in public
Oops, gotta go—already got a hit on my Craig’s List post. What? Rod Blagojevich? Come on, dude—I said serious inquiries only!
Saturday, January 24, 2009
WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE 60
When I was young I couldn’t imagine life past the age of forty. By then I would be wealthy, retired, and, um,--------doing something. Well, two of those three didn’t happen and now, holy crap, I just turned 60!! Totally uncharted territory, so I thought I’d share what it’s like to be at this point on the timeline.
I feel terrific except I hurt all the time. Never everywhere but always somewhere. Granted much of this pain is self-inflicted because I maintain a rigorous level of physical activity, but I can’t help but fantasize sometimes how uncomfortable it’s gonna feel to be wearing this meat suit around when I’m 80.
Things go wrong quickly and return to normal slowly. For instance, yes, I still sometimes eat a meal that I know is going to punish me. I once bounced back like the next day; now I’m pretty much voluntarily signing up for a 4 day/3 night cruise on turbulent seas.
What do sleeping all night and a Bigfoot sighting have in common? They rarely happen, that’s what. Muscle mass is supposed to decrease 10% every decade after age 40. That statistic pales in comparison to what’s happened to my bladder, which has apparently shrunk from Big Gulp down to shot glass size.
Mentally I experience a degree of mellowness I never expected. It appears I won’t be famous or infamous. Arriving at peace with one’s strengths and limitations is most definitely a good thing.
I used to think some principles were true; now I know. I know that you can’t be young and wise—young and smart, for sure, but not young and wise. Wisdom comes only with experience. I know that time is not on my side, so I am harshly intolerant of people who waste it—not theirs, mine.
I especially know that it’s important to focus on what’s important, and that very little is truly important. The houses, cars, clothing, possessions—collectively, the stuff we work so hard to acquire—ultimately possess you instead of vice versa. Fantastic experiences and relationships are what life’s all about.
My age goal is triple digits, time-wise the equivalent of living from 20 until now all over again. Wow, I went to Woodstock that year!! "With a little help from my friends" (in medical science), as Joe Cocker sang at that gathering, I look forward to letting you know what it’s like to be a centenarian.
I feel terrific except I hurt all the time. Never everywhere but always somewhere. Granted much of this pain is self-inflicted because I maintain a rigorous level of physical activity, but I can’t help but fantasize sometimes how uncomfortable it’s gonna feel to be wearing this meat suit around when I’m 80.
Things go wrong quickly and return to normal slowly. For instance, yes, I still sometimes eat a meal that I know is going to punish me. I once bounced back like the next day; now I’m pretty much voluntarily signing up for a 4 day/3 night cruise on turbulent seas.
What do sleeping all night and a Bigfoot sighting have in common? They rarely happen, that’s what. Muscle mass is supposed to decrease 10% every decade after age 40. That statistic pales in comparison to what’s happened to my bladder, which has apparently shrunk from Big Gulp down to shot glass size.
Mentally I experience a degree of mellowness I never expected. It appears I won’t be famous or infamous. Arriving at peace with one’s strengths and limitations is most definitely a good thing.
I used to think some principles were true; now I know. I know that you can’t be young and wise—young and smart, for sure, but not young and wise. Wisdom comes only with experience. I know that time is not on my side, so I am harshly intolerant of people who waste it—not theirs, mine.
I especially know that it’s important to focus on what’s important, and that very little is truly important. The houses, cars, clothing, possessions—collectively, the stuff we work so hard to acquire—ultimately possess you instead of vice versa. Fantastic experiences and relationships are what life’s all about.
My age goal is triple digits, time-wise the equivalent of living from 20 until now all over again. Wow, I went to Woodstock that year!! "With a little help from my friends" (in medical science), as Joe Cocker sang at that gathering, I look forward to letting you know what it’s like to be a centenarian.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
SPECIFIC THOUGHTS ON RANDOMNESS
Two people close to me have been recently diagnosed with malignant breast cancer. “Why?” we are tempted to ask when faced with such misfortunes. Why me? Why now?
It’s natural to first ponder whether one’s life choices have somehow led to such an unfortunate plight. Unless you have excessively abused drugs, alcohol, tobacco, and/or food over a long period of time it is easy to rule this option out. “Hey, I need to lose a few pounds but cancer-----come on!”
The next level of questioning moves to theology: What have I done to deserve this? Why is God punishing me? I suppose such thoughts never occur to atheists, with their “I’m here--I’m gone--whatever” philosophy. But for those of us who believe in some form of Higher Intelligence it’s natural to question the fairness of a Plan that includes our possible premature demise. Somehow “the Lord working in mysterious ways” isn’t particularly comforting when it’s your illness that’s part of the mystery.
I’ve long thought that our enjoyment of games is rooted in their similarity to the design of the Universe, specifically involving the element of randomness. Take Monopoly as an example. There is a 3-dimensional field of play, and there are specific rules. Yet as we move our markers around the board we encounter many random components—the roll of the dice; choosing to buy or not buy property; landing on Chance or Community Chest, to name a few.
None of these detract from the integrity of the game. In fact they are the essence of its fun. Is it possible that this frivolous example is a microcosm of Everything? Could the Creator be whimsical and fun-loving enough to create a Universe beyond boring cause-and-effect by spicing things up with a little randomness here and there? If a simple board game isn’t destroyed by unpredictability, by extrapolation why should the Universe?
How ho-hum would Monopoly be if everything were predictable? Drawing a “Go to Jail” card is a temporary setback, but you’re not totally out of the game.
Whatever your specific spiritual beliefs, they probably include some faith in life beyond the physical body—heaven/hell, reincarnation, returning to the Source. Perhaps seemingly random fortune (winning the lottery) or misfortune (cancer) is exactly that—one turn of one round in an Eternal Game.
This notion gives me much more comfort than trying to dissect one’s life searching for clues or questioning the judgment of a Supreme Being. It explains why babies die in plane crashes, gangsters become wealthy rap stars, and all other seemingly unjust anomalies. Trying to understand life with our puny human brain is as futile as attempting to capture the wind in a paper bag.
However you define Faith, it is there that Peace is found.
It’s natural to first ponder whether one’s life choices have somehow led to such an unfortunate plight. Unless you have excessively abused drugs, alcohol, tobacco, and/or food over a long period of time it is easy to rule this option out. “Hey, I need to lose a few pounds but cancer-----come on!”
The next level of questioning moves to theology: What have I done to deserve this? Why is God punishing me? I suppose such thoughts never occur to atheists, with their “I’m here--I’m gone--whatever” philosophy. But for those of us who believe in some form of Higher Intelligence it’s natural to question the fairness of a Plan that includes our possible premature demise. Somehow “the Lord working in mysterious ways” isn’t particularly comforting when it’s your illness that’s part of the mystery.
I’ve long thought that our enjoyment of games is rooted in their similarity to the design of the Universe, specifically involving the element of randomness. Take Monopoly as an example. There is a 3-dimensional field of play, and there are specific rules. Yet as we move our markers around the board we encounter many random components—the roll of the dice; choosing to buy or not buy property; landing on Chance or Community Chest, to name a few.
None of these detract from the integrity of the game. In fact they are the essence of its fun. Is it possible that this frivolous example is a microcosm of Everything? Could the Creator be whimsical and fun-loving enough to create a Universe beyond boring cause-and-effect by spicing things up with a little randomness here and there? If a simple board game isn’t destroyed by unpredictability, by extrapolation why should the Universe?
How ho-hum would Monopoly be if everything were predictable? Drawing a “Go to Jail” card is a temporary setback, but you’re not totally out of the game.
Whatever your specific spiritual beliefs, they probably include some faith in life beyond the physical body—heaven/hell, reincarnation, returning to the Source. Perhaps seemingly random fortune (winning the lottery) or misfortune (cancer) is exactly that—one turn of one round in an Eternal Game.
This notion gives me much more comfort than trying to dissect one’s life searching for clues or questioning the judgment of a Supreme Being. It explains why babies die in plane crashes, gangsters become wealthy rap stars, and all other seemingly unjust anomalies. Trying to understand life with our puny human brain is as futile as attempting to capture the wind in a paper bag.
However you define Faith, it is there that Peace is found.
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