Saturday, April 23, 2011

Ecclesiastes, Chapter 7: Happy Funeral Day!

Apparently the day you die is better than the day you're born, and funeral homes are better than all-you-can-eat buffets (the house of feasting (v. 2)). I'm not the world's biggest fan of babies, especially other people's babies, but I certainly prefer them to corpses, nor will you ever catch me saying the funeral home was more fun than the restaurant meal afterwards, but each to his own, I guess.

Sorrow is better than laughter because it makes the heart stronger and wise people like funeral parlours better than comedy clubs. There is absolutely no way in heaven that is factually true.

Fools, vanity, oppression. Endings are better than beginnings, which, okay, is true of Ashton Kutcher movies because it means the process of wiping your memory clean can begin, but not of say, summer. But oddly there is no profit in saying the past was somehow better than the present.

Wisdom is made better if it also comes with an inheritance. Don't be too righteous, wise, wicked or foolish, which I interpret to mean 'moderation in all things,' but which Jerry Falwell is careful to point out does not mean you can skip church sometimes or sin a little bit, it only means you can never decide you've achieved righteousness. I like my version better because you can sleep in on Sundays.

There are no just men. Accept that your friends talk about you, and it isn't always nice, because you've been known to do the same thing. We can't find out about faraway or deep things, at least not until we develop airplanes or scuba equipment.

In this book's first instance of misogyny, we're informed that bitter women are worse than death, and you can only escape them if god favours you. And all women are like this. He's been all over the world and maybe one man in a thousand is righteous, but not one woman in the whole world. Well dude, this is what happens when you don't educate girls. Alas, Jerry is silent on this particular verse.

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