The Robot Gospel: What's In The Box?
Intermission xiii
I turned 45 this year, and that means since I’m of average risk of colon cancer1, I get to poop in a box.
Not I have to poop in a box, but I get to...
For probably the past two years, AARP ads have been popping up on my social media feeds. And I’m like: Whoa, slow down. What makes you think I’ll ever be able to retire?
One of the tricks our brain plays on us — since we’re perpetually trapped in the third dimension — is that we are forever living in the present. Sure, we can remember things and be held hostage by nostalgia, but we can’t inhabit that time in our bodies again and fully experience the past like we did when we were there the first time. And as such, our brains and thoughts and consciousness are always right here. We know time is passing, but we don’t ever really feel that much older.
I mean, we definitely feel it in our bodies. Aches and pains and soreness and fatigue. We see it in lines on our faces, changing amounts and color of hair, children getting bigger, and our parents (if they’re still around) getting smaller. These people that used to be larger-than-life, but slowly become a smaller and smaller part of it...
And maybe it’s all the poop talk from a recent Doughboys episode, but this box represents something a little daunting to me. I mean, this thing has a 60 page instruction booklet with it. Sure, half of it is everything repeated in Spanish, but still, is pooping in a box this damn complicated?
Well, it’s got an apparatus that you put on your toilet to hold the collection tub, so I’m not really going to be “pooping in a box,” I guess. And, now I’m in my head about lining it up correctly, because there’s not really any aiming that goes along with defecation. Jesus takes the wheel on that one.
Also, I’m also worried about the volume.
Not the auditory volume.
Because in the box, there’s a container of preserving liquid, and it has to cover ... uh ... the whole thing. So what if it’s too much? Will I need to scoop the excess out? And where is the line between when the people that have to do all the tests open it up and are either impressed or disgusted?
Plus, there’s a ticking clock on delivering the package once The Package has been delivered. You gotta get that shit in the mail!
But I start work before a lot of places open up, so I can’t drop it off first thing in the morning at a UPS Store. That means I’m going to have to pack everything up, put it in my trunk, and then after I clock-out, haul ass to a location that hasn’t had their pick up for the day.
Where I work, we have a daily UPS pick up, but I don’t think I could survive the assumed embarrassment I would have at handing over my feces to someone I see almost everyday. I mean, we all know what’s in that branded white box — it’s not the Discrete Packaging that weed gummy and sex toy company commercials advertise. Taking this to an anonymous UPS Store gives me some personal remove from the situation, as it’s not a frequent haunt of mine. But why would I feel shame at something that is ostensibly a normal part of being a human and that we have adopted as one of those things you just have to do as you get older? Or maybe I’m just thinking about this too much...
After all, presently, I’m a bit down. The state of the world and all that. The Holidays are over and now it’s back to the unavoidable Real Life of it all. Tragedies continue around the globe and new homegrown ones flare up here. The harsh sunrise after the election is on the horizon. One that will shine a light on all the roaches and stains we couldn’t see — only feel — just waiting for their time in the spotlight.
Much like the inevitability of aging that I am forced to think about at this moment, so too will a stinking piece of shit soon be dropped into the White House.
But deep within my heart I’m hopeful. Because from a historical view, I believe we’re gonna win. I really believe that what we’re seeing now from the right is just reactionary lashing-out temper tantrum death throes of a molding zombie culture, fighting for relevancy in a world that has passed it by.
It’s like an addict that engages in One Last Hurrah binge before getting clean. There are also sure to be recurrences of symptoms along the way2. But social progress is just what happens. Sure, it doesn’t happen at the snap of a finger and that’s what’s so frustrating about it. It’s also going to be a fight the whole way, which is extremely disheartening.
I mean, looking back, enslavement was abolished, so all that effort and money and the lives lost in the pursuit of clutching onto that sand falling in between fingers, was ultimately for nothing. Women were allowed to vote, but still had to wait decades before they could have their own bank accounts or credit cards. And yes, even after being so graciously granted bodily autonomy by the Supreme Court, they took it away again, so we still have that struggle to fight through. Again.
And it’s not really a consolation that people are suffering right now because of these things — again, we’re perpetually trapped in the present — and some of us won’t make it through to see the light at the end of this tunnel. But there is hope as long as we stick together and pick each other up when we fall. If you look around for the helpers and don’t see any, then you can start helping.
And there are people helping. There are always people that rise to the occasion, and those are who we should be giving oxygen to. Not the shit birds trashing everything in an effort to make money and demand your attention3.
Regretfully, my hope only extends to social issues here, not economic or environmental. We are still in full-blown addiction mode with those, and unfortunately, we still haven’t hit rock bottom and are willing to take a bleary eyed look at ourselves in the mirror to start our recovery journey. Our bird flu infected chickens have not yet come home to roost.
But we’ve all got to hold onto hope. Because just like those masks on an airplane, you’ve got to put on yours before helping someone else.
-bcp
I’m not normally a fan of Mogwai songs with vocals. And this is pretty much a pop song, which I don’t think they’ve ever done! I think I’m really looking forward to this new album.Too bad the closest they’re coming to me on their tour this year is San Francisco. I think I’m now pretty much retired from the Traveling To Shows game.
And as the commercials say: You’re either average risk, or severe risk.
A more kind way in the recovery community of saying Relapse.
So that you don’t notice the vile things they’re doing to make that money.
I feel all of this from the 1st word to the last. Thanks for sharing!