Very recently, I realized that life after death is fair. Our present deeds determine where we go. There are two destinations: heaven and hell. Life, however, is unfair now. Let me explain before you think I've become a doomsday prophet with bad internet.
Those who work hard often get less. Those who devote themselves suffer the most. Those who live honestly have crooked lives—like a tree that grew in a strong wind. Meanwhile, cheaters, liars, killers, and other wrongdoers seem to be rewarded with good lives. They drive nice cars. They sleep peacefully. It's enough to make a good person consider bad things. Almost.
I wish those who commit bad deeds were punished immediately. Like a lightning bolt. Or a sudden sneeze that never comes. But no. The universe has a slow delivery system.
Fortunately, there is a judge of our deeds—not later, but now. Those who cheat, bully, lie, kill, and commit other crimes are said to go to hell, while good human beings go to heaven. It is slow, but it is sure. The mills of God grind slowly, yet exceedingly fine. Think of it as a very patient coffee grinder.
There is cause and effect in everything we do. This hope keeps me far from bad deeds and far from those who commit them. Also, I'm slightly afraid of ghosts. That helps too.
It is difficult to tune with life. Like an old radio. Some days you get music. Some days you get static. But life is life—you go on with good things, good thoughts, good deeds, a good soul—everything good. Yet in the end, we all turn somewhat bad and fallible. Nothing goes entirely according to our deeds now. Those who cheat continue cheating; those who lie continue lying. Such is the life of man—no extremity, no very good, no very bad. One must follow the middle path: the "badly good."
What is "badly good," you ask? It's when you want to scream at someone but instead you just sigh and make tea. It's when you see a cheater win and you don't flip a table. It's survival. With a little dignity left over.
Below is a song I like to sing when people grumble and do nothing. I call it The International Anthem of the Perpetually Unhappy.
Some people must-have.
Some people have not.
But they'll complain and complain and complain and complain and complain.
Some people will work.
Some simply will not.
But they'll complain and complain and complain and complain and complain.
Like this:
"It's society's fault I don't have a job."
"It's society's fault I am a slob."
"I have potential no one can see."
"Give me welfare. Let me be me!"
Hey, Bud, you're livin' in the Land of the Free.
No one's gonna hand you an opportunity!
(Unless you have an uncle in the ministry. Then maybe.)
Some people must-have.
Some never will.
But they'll complain and complain and complain and complain and complain.
"I don't have a house. I don't have a car."
"I spend all my money getting drunk in a bar."
"I wanna be rich. I don't have a brain."
"Just give me a handout while I complain."
Or this masterpiece:
"I wanna stay in bed and watch TV."
"Go out weekends in a limousine,"
"Dance all night takin' lots of drugs,"
"And wake up when I wanna."
Hey, Bud, you're livin' in the Land of the Free.
No one's gonna hand you an opportunity!
(Except maybe a free headache. Those are easy to come by.)
Some people will learn.
Some never do.
But they'll complain and complain and complain and complain and complain.
Yeah, they'll complain and complain and complain and complain and complain.
So here I am. Trying to be badly good. Watching the cheaters win. Watching the complainers complain. And singing my little song.
The mills of God are grinding. Slowly. Very slowly.
But at least I have tea.
