Can we all agree that some things make no sense?
If not, ask yourself why mothers console disappointed children by saying everything will work out in the end. Isn’t the end just a little too late? I mean, once something has worked out, wouldn’t it be nice to have a few years to appreciate the fact?
Someone says “Bob, you’re looking so much better. Have you been lifting weights?” Bob smiles and says “Nope. It’s like my mother always said: ‘Everything will work out ten years before the end.’” As opposed to three seconds after the doctors pull the plug on you when someone rushes in and says “Hey, everything just worked out. Bob? Bob, you look a little blue.”
Okay, now that we all agree, let’s move on to the advanced concept that most things make no sense. What’s the difference between some things and most things? Let’s download the metaphor app.
Click on the icon for “Bag full of advicey things.” Let’s say you pull one out and it’s “Never say never.”
I mean how can you say never say never without saying never say never — which is saying never twice (or four times if you’re writing this sentence). Shouldn’t it be “Never say never except when saying never say never?” Besides, when someone asks you at a job interview if you’ve ever had impure thoughts, if you say anything but NEVER!–with a raised voice, AND an exclamation point–you’ll never get the job.
Even so, it would be wrong to conclude from this one thing that “nothing makes sense.” So you reach in the bag and pull out another thing. Let’s say this one makes sense. Something like “One beer never hurt; two beers never hurt even more; three beers and nothing hurts.”
Okay. So far, the score is some things make sense, some things don’t make sense.
The next thing you pull out of the bag is the saying “You never know.” A minute ago you said never say never. Now you’re saying you never know. It makes no sense to say you never know. The odds in Vegas are 1000 to 1 that sometimes you will know.
How do I know? Now we’re getting into circular reasoning. Like a homeless beggar begging the question “Why don’t they call a non-homeless man a homemore man?” A common semantical mistake.
What the homeless man really means is homeful. Homemore is a quantum mechanics term meaning someone who has a home and a vacation home and possibly a tree home in the backyard and the home that the missus is calling right now to reserve his rubber room.
The next thing out of the bag: “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” Hellooo. The road to hell is full of rocks and holes and empty beer cans. No one is going to pave that. Supposing your dump truck full of hot tar breaks down? Say hello to Satan’s One-Way towing.
Cutting to the chase, the next three things out of the metaphor bag:
• The NFL definition of pass interference. (Verdict: insanely senseless.)
• The drug company rule that tablets for arthritic hands come in a bottle only Superman can open. (Verdict: painfully senseless.)
• The advice “Respect your elders.” Careful. This may sound sensible. But what if your elders are ridiculously eld? Like, they’ve never even twerked. (Verdict: plain old senseless.)
So. The metaphorical score now stands at one thing that makes sense and many that don’t. Subtract one from many and you get most. Ergo, most things make no sense.
Just remember: without those three beers, nothing makes sense.
©Patrick A. McGuire and A Hint of Light 2013-2016, all rights reserved.