“An old man turned ninety-eight
He won the lottery
and died the next day
It’s a black fly in
your Chardonnay
It’s a death row
pardon two minutes too late
And isn’t it ironic, don’t
you think?
It’s like rain on
your wedding day
It’s a free ride when
you’ve already paid
It’s the good advice
that you just didn’t take
Who would’ve thought
It figures”
I am rarely
surprised by just how ironic life is. No matter the sense of assurance I
achieve, I feel constantly mocked by the very thing that is supposed to bring
me comfort. It almost always seems to work out this way. It all just comes
around again. Ironically, life is ironic. It is a not so subtle voice, usually
pointing out our stupidity. Irony is often demonstrative. It puts out the lesson
without all of the work. It uses the opposite to point to the original. Irony
is meant, primarily, “for humorous or empathetic effect.” Irony, generally
speaking, “is a rhetorical device, literary technique, or event in which what
appears, on the surface, to be the case, differs radically from what is
actually the case.” Such words convey “a meaning that is the opposite of its
literal meaning.” We dwell in deep satire. Living is the ultimate irony. The
truth is we aren’t living, we are dying. We have been since the day we were
born. It takes pain to know pleasure and hate to know love. You have to
experience sadness in order to know what happiness is. You cannot appreciate
silence unless there is noise. You don’t even miss something until it’s gone. It all seems to be some subtle expression of sarcasm, buried
in caustic remarks. It can get in your face sometimes, a constant reminder of
just how complicated this life can be. Yes, life is ironic but most of us are
not in on the joke.
“Mr. Play It Safe was
afraid to fly
He packed his
suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye
He waited his whole
damn life to take that flight
And as the plane
crashed down he thought
‘Well isn’t this nice?’
And isn’t it ironic, don’t
you think?
It’s like rain on
your wedding day
It’s a free ride when
you’ve already paid
It’s the good advice
that you just didn’t take
Who would’ve thought
It figures”
It has been
well over a year since the death of my last rat. After almost 20 years of
rodent haven, I closed the sanctuary, at least for anything smaller than a
squirrel. The last rat did not leave on a merciful note. She withered and faded
but over weeks, not merely days. It was a horrible and lingering death, by any
account. I just stood there waiting for her to die. I just could not put down
another one. She lasted and lasted. The night before her death, I decided that
if she had not passed by the morning, I would have to do the job myself. It was
ironic finding her hard and cold, it only cemented my disdain towards owning
another one. There was no way, rat after rat, year after year, I could keep
facing such little deaths. I may be hypersensitive to such things but each affected
me deeply. It’s not that I had some epiphany or enlightened moment, it was a
physical pain, an emptiness that I felt over and over. It hurt. I suppose my loyalty
only runs so deep. I never would have
imagined coming face to face with another rat, be it wild or not. Every
morning, it stuck its head out from behind the fence and stole away seeds, and
peanuts and pieces of bread. The damn thing looked exactly like Savannah
“Well life has a
funny way of sneaking up on you
When you think
everything’s okay
Everything’s going
right
Life has a funny way
of helping you out when
You think everything’s
gone wrong
And everything blows
up in your face”
It is a little surreal, the idea
that I had to die to find life again. I’m not sure many people would comprehend
what I mean without an explanation. When my first partner committed suicide in
1995, I tossed myself on his grave exactly one week later. I took 100 x 10mg
Valium, stripped of my winter wear and headed out into the February cold. It
was a very stark and wintery evening when I arrived at the cemetery. I entered around
9 o’clock and was found the next day around noon. I should have frozen to death,
the temperature that night was subzero. I should have at least had frost burn
or frostbite, but I got nothing. I woke up mad as hell. I couldn’t believe that
my plan had failed, that I couldn’t even get killing myself right. I was so
sure it would work. Everybody told me that it was just not my time. God,
apparently, didn’t want me yet. Eventually, winter turned to spring which moved
into summer and drifted into the fall. As time moved, so did the part of me
meant to survive. At first, it was all I could do not to think about getting
the fuck off this planet. I planned several attempts but failed to go through
with them. It wasn’t that I was a gutless turd, rather I just couldn’t bring
myself to do it. What happened that night in the cemetery changed me forever.
With enough time and space, the act of almost dying saved me. I am not sure I
would have been able to go on without some sense that I was supposed to be
here. The mere idea that somehow God saved me, gave me purpose and set me on
the course I have followed. I was supposed to be here. I felt a purpose. It
only took dying for me to come to life. I just wish, before I tried, that
someone had let me in on the joke.
“A traffic jam when
you’re already late
A no smoking sign on
your cigarette break
It’s like ten
thousand spoons when all you need is a knife
It’s meeting the man
of my dreams
And then meeting his
beautiful wife
And isn’t it ironic, don’t
you think?
A little too ironic
and, yeah, I really do think
It’s like rain on
your wedding day
It’s a free ride when
you've already paid
It’s the good advice
that you just didn’t take
Who would’ve thought
It figures”
You have to sin to be saved. There
would be no need for salvation if there wasn’t something to rescue us from. It’s
ironic, without wickedness we would have no need of righteousness. They claim God
created the very reality we exist within but we are to shun it and cast the
ways of the world aside. We are to be in this world, not of it. God created all
this and it was good, until the sinners arrived. God set out for blood. In the days
of the Old Testament, the streets of Jerusalem
“Life has a funny way
of sneaking up on you
Life has a funny,
funny way of helping you out
Helping you out”
Sometimes we come across things we
thought we would never have to face again. It’s funny how life works that way.
Sometimes living can be complicated and oblique but underneath it all there is
this humorous mocking. Life laughs at us. Experience can be a sarcastic bitch.
One can’t even die in a cemetery without some fucking sense of irony. It’s
funny how life works that way. Even God Himself tends to be fuel for the fire.
A fire, I have been told, that awaits me after a lifetime of being a bad boy.
God’s love is overflowing, now that’s funny. It is good to express humour, to
see life with laughter rather than disdain. Perhaps, God is laughing even more.
Just the act of daily living can be dry and somewhat witty. You have to learn
to joke with yourself. It’s okay to giggle at everyone else. Even God is a
hoot. It’s funny how life works that way.
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I laughed so hard at this that I was literally CRYING.. Tears are streaming down my face as we speak.. This is the most funny thing I have read in ages... HAHAHA!!! I definitely get the joke... or DO I?? HAHAHA...!! This was a F***ing awesome read!! :D I'm Still laughing... :D LOL
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