The Momentary Return of BOB, and all THAT entails.....  

Posted by Alex Pendragon

Long time readers of this thing laughingly called a blog might recall the entity "BOB" who on occasion has popped into my life and challenged my grasp on reality. You see, I know that BOB can't be real, yet BOB takes up a definite chunk of my brain's awareness, to the extent that it is very possible that BOB is not only very real, but has actually spoken to me in the manner in which I have recorded in my blog. Having read about the occurrences of false memories in humans, I tend to question those pictures in my mind that might have been figuratively photoshopped rather than recorded verbatim as they seemed to have occurred. Thus it remains to be seen if BOB is nothing more than a figment of my rather colorful imagination, or something all of us needs to get jiggy with if we ever hope to attain nirvana. No, not the band, silly..........

Anyway, I was sitting at my trusty iMac surfing the Apple store in search of the illusive refurbished Mac Mini (the EXACT Mac Mini model that I want to replace this old G-5 with before smoke starts issuing out the back) when all of a sudden the screen goes black, then is replaced by BOB's smiling face. Now, the thing you have to realize when I say "BOB's smiling face" is that no two witnesses out of a pack of 37 would agree as to what Bob's smiling face actually looks like. One moment you think BOB looks something like Bing Crosby, while in the very next breath you'd insist He/She/It is the spitting image of Salma Hyack. BOB simply can't be pigeonholed into being described as looking like anybody in particular, but strangely, you'd know Him/Her/it the second you saw Him/Her/It. I have to assume that's just how deities present themselves to us mortals.

So here I am staring at my computer screen, the one that's been hijacked by good old BOB, and that strange and comforting sense of peace descends over me, a phenomenon I attribute to being in the presence of divinity, and I smile and say, "Well hello there, stranger; long time no see!"

"Stranger?" He says, looking somewhat alarmed, "Stranger than WHO, might I ask?"

"Oh, Bob, you funny, as always.....what can I do for you, sport?"

"You know, Michael....oh wait, excuse me; it's THE Michael nowadays, right? Well, anyway, I simply love how disrespectful you get in the presence of the most utterly powerful THING in all of existence, even tho I could turn your head into a giant turnip if I wanted to. How are YOU doing these days, my wayward child?"

I glance sideways at this appirition/halucination/visitation/whateverthefuckitis, never knowing exactly when to take he/she/it seriously, or when to quake in my boots, which I'm not inclined to do anyway, hellfire or no. I just don't deal with authority figures very well.

"I'm doing as well as can be expected, considering fate and fortune. I'd ask how YOU are doing, but we all know how YOU are doing, don't we? Splendidly comes to mind......."

"Now, now, Michael, let's not make assumptions here. I CAN have a bad day, believe it or not. Why, just last week, a WONDERFUL planet full of the best sentient beings you could ever hope to meet got fried by it's own sun. I hate it when that happens......"

"And you did NOTHING to stop it? Gods, you are one cold muther fu........"

He raised one finger to his lips and I instinctively knew to shut up. "Michael, I created a chaotic universe that creates and destroys amazing things every second of every day and on balance, it's all good. I made up a set of rules that are so complicated, so balanced, so nuanced that that there's no way I could intervene on the side of sweetness and light and not throw the entire thing out of whack. Believe you me, it did NOT take six days to create this universe, and no, one day is not enough rest after a feat like that, believe you me!

"OK then Bob, explain to me if you can how all told, a whole planet of nice people getting cooked is "all good"? Would you be so nonchalant if WE got blow-torched tomorrow? Or do you care?

He shook his head and seemed sorrowful. "I'm gonna let you in on a secret, Michael, not because you deserve to know before your time, but because I like you. There is actually something BETTER than any heaven any human could imagine awaiting all of you, even your dogs, cats, guppies, and hamsters. No matter how or when you die, or how you lived your life, you bring something back to the grand scheme of things; lessons learned, experiences both good and bad, and each very special thing that makes any and all of you so special, so unique. You think all this energy generated by the wellspring of life doesn't amount to anything? Let me tell you, bub, all the suns and quasars and black holes in this universe can't hold a candle to the power all those heartbeats produce! All that emotion, all that love, hate, fury, jealousy, empathy; all that music, all that art, it's one amazing dynamo that powers a realm that all of you sense somehow but can never describe. So, no, although I hate to witness pain and death, especially of innocents, I know that in the end it is not a waste. If feeds something I can only describe as wonderful, and even that comes no where near close enough to doing it justice. Imagine something so fucking far out that you can't even imagine it....that's as close to understanding it as you will ever get, so long as you inhabit that mangy body of yours."

"Well, thanks for the pep talk, BOB, but honestly, did you expect that to make me feel better, especially about all the shit that happens to good people every day, for no good reason? And why can't you just come out and PROVE to these fundamentalist ass-holes that there's no God like they imagine and let us all live in peace for a change? It's all this uncertainty that has us at each other's throats like we could go a long way towards putting an end to THAT excuse for killing each other.

"Michael, you've never been sure that I'm not a figment of YOUR imagination; what's to convince all of mankind? No, I don't do miracles; like I said, I wrote a delicate set of laws that I tinker with at my own peril. Just shooting the shit with you is as harmless an interaction as I can afford; sucking up enough energy from everything needed to actually PROVE to ALL mankind that I am what I am would cost dearly in ways you don't even want to know it's out of the question. Believe me, it's a lot more fun this way.

"You and your fucking "mysterious ways". It's getting pretty old, ya know?"

"I know,'s as old as eternity."

"just one question, though, if you can. Does it really matter if I try and live a good life, or does it really make a difference in the end? Will I get ANY cosmic brownie points for the effort?

"What does you gut tell you, my friend? I designed that too, you know."


The image faded to black and I was left sitting in front of my computer, thinking that perhaps once again I had nodded off into some sort of weird day dream, and that once again I should treat this as just another episode of mild mental illness. Thankfully, I never take these "things" seriously, because life is not kind to prophets, and deep inside I know that BOB has never intended for me to run around the streets making a fool of myself in yet another failed attempt to spread the word. No, Bob has never had anything to do with your typical street corner prophet. Maybe some other off-the-wall deity, but not BOB. But, it makes great blog material, so I guess we both get what we want, without the mess.

Blessed be.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, July 14, 2009 at Tuesday, July 14, 2009 . You can follow any responses to this entry through the comments feed .

1 slick comments

Blessed be, indeed.

July 15, 2009 at 12:23 PM

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