One of the most popular arguments for the existence of God is that the universe has the precise balance of forces for sustaining life. This seems like a miracle to me, at least until I go outside in July without sunscreen, and burn like the last French fry in Hell.
At this point I must pause to acknowledge that there is no good reason the LAST French fry in Hell would burn faster than all the other French fries, or even that Hell would run low on fried food. But today is a holiday in the States, and if I put any more effort into that analogy it will seem like a job.
Back to my point, I’m just saying the natural balance of the world could use some work. There’s something wrong with the picture. It’s like God getting a B+ on a spelling test. You’d expect Him to ace the simple subjects, such as sunshine. I’m not asking a lot from the omnipotent creator of the universe. I just want to walk to the mailbox without getting cancer.
This is the time of year I have to make difficult choices about my sun exposure. I figure I have three choices.
1. Enjoy an attractive and natural tan until my face begins to resemble Honus Wagner’s baseball glove. Then die from skin cancer.
2. Avoid the sun and look like a cross between uncooked tofu and whoever is attacking Harry Potter lately. Live a long life shunned by the sighted.
3. Apply an artificial tanning lotion and look like I got gang raped by giant carrots who watch too many Peter North movies.
Lately I’ve been splitting the difference. I’m too lazy to apply sunscreen on my face every time I walk outside, and I don’t spend enough time outdoors with my shirt off to even-up the damage. Now when I take off my shirt I look like Frosty the Snowman with a Beef Jerky head. It’s not as cool as it sounds.
Luckily for me, God invented shirts. But as long as I’m being critical, I have to say He didn’t do his best work in that department either. All of my favorite shirts are what I call look-downs. That means when I wear them, and I gaze down at my torso, I think “Nice shirt.” I like the color and pattern. From the viewpoint that I alone can see, it looks perfect. Then I walk in front of a full-length mirror to discover my shirt fits like a radish wearing a parachute. (Again, I remind you it’s a holiday.)
In summary, I don’t look good with clothes, or without them. That leaves me with one option. Whenever other people are around I try to distract them into looking at other things, e.g. “Is it just me, or does it look like that pillow is humping the couch?”
Sometimes that’s the best you can do.
Happy 4th of July.