Mr. Universe, you got some 'splainin' to do

Mr. Universe, you got some 'splainin' to do

It’s 9:00 PM in the Windy City and those of us who’ve accepted the challenge, have been given the task of publishing a post by 10:00 PM in the following theme: “a time you experienced a remarkable coincidence or witnessed something unexplainable”

It’s times like these when I wish my friend, Rae was here.  Rae sees every moment of her life as being coincidental with one or more of the previous moments of her life.  If she meets woman from Milwaukee, she might see that as being incredibly coincidental because her neighbor, Billy Bob Miller just cut off his thumb with a Milwaukee saw back in Podunk, Michigan.

Life is that way, though.  Maybe not the way Rae sees it, but certainly with its share of coincidences and the completely inexplicable.

The way I see it, it’s a bit of balancing act, life is.  You can either accept that much of what you see  is going to challenge any kind of rational explanation you can marshal, or you succumb to the type of magical thinking that will, ultimately lead to the cessation of rational thought.

My friend, Jerry asked me last week about the source of what we call fossil fuels.  In a general way, we think about millions of dinosaurs and all kinds of plant life being squished down into the earth where it’s compressed and heated and turned into crude.

Remember when old Jed Clampett was out shooting at some food and up from the ground came a-bubbling crude?  I’m sure Uncle Jed couldn’t explain it, but the truth is that the whole dinosaur-in-your-gas-tank thing is a bit more theoretical than you might imagine.

If you think about all the billions and billions of barrels of oil we’ve pumped out the ground, refined and then spewed into the atmosphere, you’ll come to appreciate that it might have taken a whole lot more dinosaurs to make that oil than ever lived on Earth.  Or anywhere else, for that matter.

There’s a Russian guy whose got a theory that all this oil is being squeezed up from somewhere deep inside the earth, maybe as far down as that gooey magma that’s like the center of a Tootsie Pop.

I like that theory the best.  I really like chocolate Tootsie Pops.

I tend not to believe in coincidences.  Now, some things may seem coincidental to you, but I would argue that you’re being naive.  Sometimes, a little paranoia goes a long way.

Sometimes I sit in the park and stare at trees.  Yes, it’s partly because I have no friends, but it’s also because I find them-trees, not friends-incredibly fascinating.  There’s really no explaining how they got there.

I know, from the little acorn grows a might oak, but, really?  How does that little acorn know it’s supposed to grow gigantic roots to support a 40-foot oak tree?  And all those other tree parts, the bark, the stuff in the middle, the trunk, the branches and the leaves?

We all learned the science back in seventh grade, but sometimes the answers only beg more questions.  Sometimes the science sounds even crazier than the crazy people.  And they’re plenty crazy.

Look up into the sky one night.  If possible, do this somewhere out in the country, or in the mountains or, best of all, the desert.  Then you can start to appreciate exactly how many stars and what-not are up there.  A lot.

Our little solar system officially has eight planets and five dwarf planets.  Google it, I won’t have time to include any links tonight.

Earth is about three planets out from the Sun.  That’s how you can get such a nice tan in the summer on Oak Street Beach.

But, there billions of solar system in our galaxy-the Milky Way-and billions of galaxies out there, wherever that is.  If you’re high right now, I’m sorry, but this really does blow my mind.

We’ve all heard about Carl Sagan’s billions and billions and Neil DeGrasse Tyson talk about the need for space exploration and even Steven Hawking’s Theory of Everything.  But what does it all mean?

The science is either too far over my head to grasp or they’re making it up as we go along.  Probably more the former than than the latter.

There’s an easy way out.  Just say, “Fuck it”.  Swallow the pills and take your seat at the magic show.  It’s your choice.  It’s not an easy one, because it’s not easy making sense of things that don’t seem to make much sense.

Oddly enough, the only guy who seems to understand it all can’t wave his arms around when he speaks and can only communicate with us through an artificial voice box.  Most people aren’t impressed by that sort of thing.

In the end, we may just have to throw up our hands and admit that our minds are boggled by the complete lack of any type of believable explanation for any of it.  Maybe it’s because we’re not ready for it to be explained to us.  Yet.

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