In yesterday’s blog Grand Designer, I touched upon the thorny topic of god’s existence. A debate fed by a toxic existential brew of prevailing discontent borne from a painful ligament injury,, challenges of being my mother’s full-time carer, life under COVID, along with some pretty unpalatable life events encountered within the last decade .
Footnote – I’m not sure using the word debate is strictly appropriate in the above paragraph. After all, unless you count arguments with the many ‘personalities’ in my head, it wasn’t an exchange of views. They were mine in isolation – Me not affording another individual the opportunity to air an alternate side of the story.
Anyhow, I digress……..
I’m sure god, and my accusers, would argue I’m being overly melodramatic with my lifestyle assessment. After all, I was lucky enough to experience a childhood of love, security, shelter and way more than my fair share of Subbuteo table football teams.
Those same critics perhaps pointing out “You’ve gotta take the rough with the smooth, Gary!” An argument I’d accept as fair; although I’d respectfully request if god could see his way to balancing the number of rough life events with the joyful. Something, it seems to me, which’s been heavily stacked towards the former with the last ten years
As I write, GJ Strachan envisages our Father who art in heaven (that’s god, not my late dad….. although hopefully he’s up there as well) shaking his head is despair. After all, I’ve had an opportunity to retire from work in my 50’s, not to mention experiencing some great life experiences in the company of inspirational individuals since 2010 – Included among those fond memories, trips to Wales, Canada and Scotland.
The above paragraph maybe hinting I need to put a truer perspective on how the last decade’s played out for yours truly. Trouble is, as things stand, I’m getting tired of going with the stoic ‘It’s not all bad’ mantra which I churn out frequently, especially in these pieces. Words which, although noble, I’m finding are becoming emptier as each day dawns.
As things stand, though, I really don’t see what my alternatives are. If god does exist, it’s not as though I could sue him for the mental and physical trauma suffered at his hands. And even if that mechanism was in place, I reckon the Almighty would have the wherewithal to secure far more accomplished legal representation than yours truly.
The head of the holy trinity employing a top counsellor (such as Petrocelli), while my prosecution was led by some legal hack from a ‘No win, no fee’ company. My counsel possessing similarly dubious litigation practises as Lionel Hutz from TV comedy The Simpsons……. On the plus side, at least I’d get a branded eraser gratis from the company representing me.
Anyhow, even if I (the plaintiff) was able to secure a highly accomplished prosecution lawyer, surely the judge would feel intimidated by the stature of the defendant. A reverence which’d surely tip the scales of justice in their favour…… Intimidation of such levels that even Judge Judy would struggle to keep the trial fair.
As I write this tongue in cheek piece, I somewhat sheepishly think of the people who ran the Gateshead Sunday School yours truly attended as a child – Some of who read my blogs on occasion. Individuals for whom I bear great respect and fondness.
Hopefully, they’ll see the funny side of what’s meant as a parody piece, predominantly written in the early hours of a Sunday morning – Me awake as a consequence of knee pain. Sleep deprivation and discomfort my current bedfellows for the previous three nights.
Anyhow, I’m off now to google whether I’ve spelt Petrocelli correctly….. Enjoy the rest of your weekend!
