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When I was first told that the topic for the re-launch of the site was going to be “rebirth,” I immediately thought of the Albert Brooks movie: Defending Your Life. The second thing I thought of was that I needed to be stoned out of my mind when I wrote my little piece. Mission accomplished. In fact I may be so high that I would seriously consider playing Magic: The Gathering, or just make the most delicious sandwich ever!
The Vengeful Rebirth Magic Card
Regardless, Defending Your Life is a great movie that tells the story of a yuppie in his late 30’s who is killed in a car accident and sent to purgatory, and while there, has to prove his worth in a courtroom style scenario. Clips of his life are shown by both the prosecutor and the defense lawyer as evidence to why he should or should not move on to the higher realm/plain/existence, or go back to Earth to try again.
I had always been fascinated by that movie and the idea of getting to watch your entire life like a film. And it makes me wonder, would I be able to prove my worth? Or would I be hurled back to the Earth like an unwanted booger?* I feel that I could prove myself worthy in most instances, but it’s those few brutal moments of being a complete shitbag that scare me.
Sure being raised by bikers didn’t help any. When at six years old you know how to use and properly maintain a homemade tattoo gun, trouble must be in store for you. Or when you do the best job of braiding your Dad’s friend’s hair, how can you be expected to be an absolute saint? I feel as long as I’ve done the most to do right in my life, and learned from all of my wrongs, I’m certainly worthy. I mean I’ve only acted accordingly to how my environment dictated my subconscious response to be a Satanist.
Did that make sense to you? I feel like that’s a good line to spew at my heavenly jury of peers when I do bite the big one†. All of the Satanism and the racism, hell, all of the “bad-isms” are in my past and will not be a part of my future. I’ve learned a lot of things from my days of boozing and working in a black market bakery in Chinatown‡. All of these things are an important part of who I am and have literally become a mental “life manual” if you will. Something I can always take a look in and remember why it’s a terrible idea to hide fireworks in your grandmother’s fireplace, or to never run inside of a daycare when being chased by a swarm of bees. Trial and error, baby. That’s all it is. This great big dump of a process is all we have. To live and love and hate and die.
Maybe someday the decisions you make here on this planet will have some bearing on the way you spend eternity. Maybe not. You have to be smart enough to realize that you are just an animal. And that when you die, that may be it. Game over. You laughed, you cried, you made love to a deaf girl in the rain. You must understand that this kind of thinking can be dangerous though. And without fear of consequence, a man can be driven to do horrible acts. So be your own ruler and decide for yourself, is life worth living as a decent and kind human being, if it means that once in a while you have to follow the rules and take responsibility at the right moments in life? Or would you rather live absolutely free of consequence, and take what you wanted when you wanted it, even if that means harming others? Life is decisions. Make the right ones when you can and always learn from the bad ones. Otherwise, you might come back as an albino. You know they did something fucked up in a past life! 
* What a strange analogy. I doubt any boogers are really wanted. Unless you eat them. Then you really do want them. And if you want and eat boogers you’re probably between the ages of 2-12, and no one needs to be wanted by children. That sounds like some kind of fucked up Steven King novel, aptly titled Booger Eaters.
† Again, what the fuck does that even mean, to “bite the big one?” What happens when you bite a “little” one? Is there an appropriate time to use that as a response?
Hypothetical Ernie: “Did you hear about Willy? He fell in front of a fat woman who was also falling down and she crushed him!”
Hypothetical Ray: “Is he dead!?”
Hypothetical Ernie: “No, he just broke his finger.”
Hypothetical Ray: “Oh, so he bit the little one then, eh?”
‡ You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted Tiger Cake!