This is the day that we've been threatened with since the day we were born. It's when, after we've been run over by the Ready-Mix truck, we meet our maker and HE (I've been told that he's a HE) judges us and sends us to our just reward. Why is it judgment "day"? Does it take a whole day to get it done? Is there a waiting line? Is it like going to the registry of motor vehicles where you tear off one of those paper numbers and watch the red LED lights in the corner of the room and wait for your number to be displayed? Let's assume that the last of these is true. Given the fact that every day there must be millions of people kicking the bucket, the LED lights would have to be at least 9 digits long. O.K., so you've had a pretty bad day, getting run over by the Ready-Mix truck and all, and now you face the reality that they just called number 15 and you're number 19,065,283. The line, thankfully, goes pretty quickly and you're now first in line. To your amazement you are not being judged by a single entity but by a panel of five judges. The judges faces are hidden, so as to protect their identity.
But who are they? Who should be qualified to judge? Ideally, there should be both men and women on the panel. But, given the fact that I've angered so many women in my life, I would prefer having just male judges. After all, men will be much more understanding about the fact that I once broke up with a woman solely because she had skinny legs.
My choice for my panel of judges would be Mark Twain, Abraham Lincoln, Ray Charles, Winston Churchill, and Billy Lohnes. The first of these because he was a great writer and humorist. He'd take a look at my checkered past and chuckle a bit. Mr. Lincoln would seriously ponder my past indiscretions with the wisdom of a man who knows that all of us, indeed, have faults, and at least I've never pulled a pistol on someone in Ford's theater. Ray Charles was a cool guy that I've always admired. Winston Churchill was one of the great drunks of all time. The last of these, Billy Lohnes was my best childhood friend...and he still owes me five dollars.
Whether or not there is a judgement day and a life hereafter is one of life's great mysteries. I'd like to think that there will be a time when, after I "cash in my chips", someone, anyone, will take one minute of my time and explain the mysteries of the universe. In that one minute I'd like to learn the things that have been burning in my mind for so many years and have kept me from being truly content. These questions include:
Is pro wrestling staged?
Did O.J. do it?
Who invented The Chicken Dance?
What is the secret ingredient in Hostess Twinkies?
Did Oswald act alone?
Who shot J.R.?
Was Gumby edible?
Where is Jimmy Hoffa?
The moon landing was faked, right?
Is the hokey pokey really what it's all about?
Readers, enjoy your day.