Beer & Self-Loathing

Sometimes I marvel at my ability to accept the absurd simply because it’s universal. It seems everyone else accepts it, therefore, it’s perfectly, well… acceptable. This is a lie. Instead of saying: “Boy, it sure is cold out there, but isn’t the snow beautiful?”, we should be running around with our arms flailing in the air and screaming: “Holy shit! The temperature is so low that water cannot retain it’s liquid state! Humans are made of mostly water. This is a huge fucking problem!” But for some reason we just accept it as Winter in MN. Well, maybe we shouldn’t. Maybe this simply isn’t okay. Of course, this collective state of psychosis-induced denial goes much deeper than merely tolerating a giant dump-truck barreling down the road pouring 2 metric tonnes of salt onto the ground. No, this ubiquitous shroud of denial has a whole other level of complexity.

Why is it that absolutely everything I enjoy is bad? I am unable to think of a single thing that I like which is good for my health or otherwise contributes positively to my life. Not one. It is a universal truth that we all accept for some reason. If it tastes good, it’s unhealthy, if it feels good it’s dangerous. Why has the Universe conspired against us so? Why is it that celery doesn’t taste like ice cream? Don’t get me wrong, I like a nice slice of watermelon, but it simply can’t compete with a chocolate fudge brownie covered with whipped cream.

I love beer. So naturally, it makes me fat, earns me a hangover and gives me diarrhea. Why? Why didn’t we evolve biologically such that beer clears up acne, stops tooth decay and makes you better looking? Note: beer only makes others better looking—yet another dangerous side-effect.

The notion that everything good is actually bad has been so ingrained in our species that even small children understand the concept. As a child I recall thinking that if the medicine tastes just aweful, it must be making me feel better. Pain was immediately translated into a long-term benefit. In fact, the more painful or distasteful something is, the more value we tend to ascribe to its positive effects. This is preposterous.

The universal acceptance of this concept is not only mysterious and baffling, but it is also the root-cause of most human suffering. We accept this idea and then act it out. That’s why so many religious movements require suffering and sacrifice here on Earth… to demonstrate a loyalty to God. Only through misery can we obtain the long-term benefits of the after-life. In fact, I am beginning to believe that a Universe so bent on denying us enjoyment could only be constructed by a supreme being, or God. That’s the only thing that makes any sense. There’s no reasonable explanation for life to have evolved in such a way as to provide us with a cheeseburger, only to have it clog our arteries and kill us. Why would that happen naturally? It wouldn’t.

I have had a revelation. It’s clear to me now, that the mere existence of bacon is proof that there is a God… a God who hates us.