Ah yes. The 4th July. That day when we eat too much, drink too much and party a little too much.
OK, by “we”, I mean “you”. And by “you”, I mean “The people in the US”.
Today I am going to celebrate Higgs-Boson day. Because although I know as much about physics as I do about why my daughter thinks it is OK to walk up to me smiling and then smash me in the knackers, laugh and walk off (I have nicknamed her the smiling assassin), I am just not American enough to get on the 4th July thing. And Higgs-Boson sounds like a beer. “Two bottles of Higgs-Boson please guv’nor!” sounds way better than “Today…we shall celebrate our independence day”
Of course, my knowledge of the Higgs-Boson comes down to this: Lets spend loads of money building a stuffing long tunnel and throw things around it as speeds that…erm…you know what, I have no idea of how fast or slow they go. And then smash them together and see if we can meet god. Crazy. Why spend that much money when you can just get 2 people to get in to cars, drive them at each other really fast and smash them in to each other. I am confident that at least one participant in this test will be able to see if he meets god. Sure, he wont be alive to tell us, but then, smashing atoms around in the name of meeting god?
Stupid.
But as I said, my knowledge on the matter isn’t that good. I just cant see god going “oohh…look…you smashed up a few atoms. I should come say hello!”.
And how will he announce himself?
“Hi. God here.”
“Prove it”
“OK, I know everything and that includes knowing that you masturbate to pictures of chickens every Tuesday when your wife goes out.”
“Shit. He is real.”
And why would he use the chicken story to announce himself? That also doesn’t make any sense.
And would he go “Right. Put the kettle on, pull up a chair and we will have a chat about you giving my son a little grief.” Because you know…I don’t think that would be a conversation I would want to be in.
How can you tell god “Your son was arrested because we didn’t have anti-social behaviour orders in those days and the snivelling little git was spray painting his name everywhere, so we got medieval on his arse backside.”
On hearing that, god would likely become enraged and go get a knife or a bat or a shotgun or something. And he would say “I have decided to destroy all living creatures for they have filled the earth with violence” and would likely not appreciate our reply:
“Ooohhh….riiiight…so we aren’t allowed to kill anyone, but YOU…Mr bigtime…YOU get to do what you like. You are such an arse. AND you tried this before and couldn’t even follow through with your threat because some guy built a friggin BOAT. Your big man with a plan idea was beaten by a bloke without power tools. These days we have guns and bombs and Oprah. What chance do you think you have?”
I should probably note that I had to go to google and put “God said to” and see what came up in order to get the destroy all living creatures thing. Coz I am to religion what the England football team is to winning competitions. Nothing. AND…when I searched for phrases, I never found a single funny one. In a gazillion years or however long he is supposed to have been around, has he never got a sense of humour?
But I am fairly confident that I met god last week. I went to the Dr to have a blood test. “Ooohh…what for!” I hear you not even remotely mutter.
Well…I don’t know. That’s why I am had a blood test. To find out. And while I was there, the woman taking the blood said “You will feel a bit of a prick”.
“How cliche” I thought, thinking that she has probably said that a hundred times a day for the last 5 years. So after turning me in to a pin cushion because my veins were playing the “You cant find me!” game, she finally drained me of blood (7 vials of blood later, I realised I had given that woman I met 5 minutes beforehand more bodily fluids than I have ever given my wife in 8 years) and sent me on my way.
This is where I question her being god. At the door at the end of the packed waiting room I confused push and pull. So confidently walking up to the door, pushing hard and continuing to walk, I smashed straight in to the door. I felt such a prick. And then I thought “She foretold this. She is all knowing.” and then I turned to the packed waiting room, muttered something about being in pain and dragged my sorry arse out of the building and licked my wounds (well, blood tastes nice…what can I say.)
The results come back today. I am hoping they say “We were testing for awesomeness. Yes, you have loads. Well done.”
Anyway. Where was I? Ah yes. The 4th July. Yeah, I don’t celebrate it.
wheelturninghamsterdead.com 