I Drink for a Reason

by David Cross

  Again, I didn’t think that I did hate America, but now that I know that it must be true, even though I don’t think it is, it would be highly irresponsible of me, not to mention traitorous, to just sit back and do nothing. I need to explore what this is all about. How did I come to hate America, and what can be done about it? At the very least I should identify the ways that I am an immediate danger to the welfare of this country that I, and all of my family and friends, call home.

  Okay, we are taught from a young age that hate is a strong word and shouldn’t be tossed around lazily. Since I learned this lesson I have tried to reserve the emotion of hate for people like Adolf Hitler and Eva Braun, Osama Bin Laden and his fine, fine lady, whoever she may be, or Bull Connor and Timothy McVeigh or people like that. I may say that I “hate” Whoopie Goldberg, but I don’t really hate her, that’s just exaggerated hyperbole to express how extremely annoying, unfunny, and sanctimonious I find her. Which is slightly ironic because I have been accused of the same things I just accused her of, so one might think we’d be BFFs. But no, I fucking hate her (not really hate, though).

  So, with a better understanding of what hate really means (absolute revulsion, abhorrence, extreme dislike) and what it doesn’t mean (annoyance, frustration, displeasure, someone who’s career and reputation as a “funny” woman is completely unjustified given the lack of a single funny, original thing ever being uttered), let’s explore my hatred of America.

  Let’s start here: From the deductions made from the above information, I know that when Anne Coulter, or Rush Limbaugh, or Laura Ingraham and their millions upon millions of listeners who agree with them say that I, or my like-minded ilk, are traitorous, it means that we are. This is irrefutable and thus closed to discussion. It is, in other words, a fact. This puts me in an epic conundrum, for I would like to live here for the rest of my life and someday raise and eat a family here. Wait—just raise, not eat. I live in New York City, which, to me, is the greatest city in the history of ever. I truly love it here and not one day goes by that I don’t have occasion to reflect on this. But as we all know, New York City is in New York State. One of the states that comprises the United States of… America! Great! Now what?!

  It stands to reason that as someone who hates America (like Mohamed Atta, and the sixteen other Saudis who kamakazied planes into the World Trade Center and Pentagon but not the one over Pennsylvania because that was shot down—sorry, Todd), my continued presence here is a security risk. I don’t know how much of a risk, though. That should be left to the experts in National Security Risk Assessment. Those experts being amongst others the aforementioned pundits and their brethren, Neal Boortz, Bill O’Reilly, William Bennett, James Dobson, Michael Savage, etc. etc.

  So freedom, liberty, and justice for all (coincidentally, the names of my three dogs) and I are at odds. Even if I say we are not. Even if I think we are not. According to them, I would rather live in some theocracy with just one ruling class, being bombarded by a 24-hour propaganda machine in place that effectively demeans dissent and marginalizes those who don’t pray to the country’s approved god? Hey… wait a minute!!!

  Heaven!

  ACCORDING TO THE SHEPARD INSTITUTE IN SLILLFORTH, NEW Mexico, as of this date there are over 2 trillion people in Heaven right now. Wow! That’s a lot of people! True fact: if you laid 2 trillion people head to toe and then wrapped them all in foil, they would circle the earth upwards of tons of times. The Shepard Institute received a grant for this study from a conservative “think” tank based in Washington, DC, that studies new ways to pay for justifying its existence. They commissioned the study after a prior study, funded by the very same think tank, showing that America is primarily a Judeo-Christian country (although not so much the Judeo part * ) who’s laws are founded upon those ideals. Now, let’s get back to the figure 2 trillion. This is based on a combination of all denominations that believe in the existence of Heaven. This includes religions that have been in existence prior to AD 1 that may have believed in the concept, no matter how vague and undefined, of an eternal reward waiting for the followers of said religions, after their mortal life on this earth was ended. For the purpose of this study, all heavens have been amalgamated into one heaven, which must share at least these three basic tenets:

  Heaven is a reward for those who live and abide by the basic ideals as stated by their respective religions regardless of direct contradiction of another’s religion, which will also see its followers going to the same heaven. In other words, if one was a member of say, the Church of Revenge, whose members were instructed to take the lives of doctors or nurses who perform or advise on abortions in order to win passage to Heaven, they would be in Heaven alongside Unitarians, who believe that one shouldn’t kill another human being under any circumstances but should only help and aide in distress, and thereby might, in turn, help another attain the aforementioned abortion.

  Admission to Heaven is decided upon by an all-knowing supreme being of undetermined origin and physicality, who has complete knowledge of the entirety of one’s life actions, inner thoughts, and intent. This being also has the ability to contextualize each action and thought within time, place, situation, cultural understanding of one’s surroundings, one’s chemical makeup, physical well-being, as well as forces of nature without.

  Heaven itself in its physical description is either so breathtaking and awe inspiring as to be literally beyond description by mere human language, or the exact opposite—able to be described by the following words or their foreign-language (i.e., not English) counterparts: majestic, regal, royal, grand, stately, imposing, grandiose, magnificent, daunting, inspiring, remarkable, and extraordinary. Heaven must be said to be a place where “God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away” (Revelation 21:4).

  It should be ascribed with physical traits in topography, geology, temperate climate systems, ecosystems, zoology, distribution of attributable race, and basic geography that are familiar to humans depending on where they live and their immediate familiar surroundings—i.e., a Baptist who grew up in a holler in the foothills of the Smoky Mountains without television or computers would believe in a heaven much like the pristine woods he or she grew up in and know only of, while an inner-city Muslim who grew up in Beirut might know of a much different, albeit as equally beautiful, heaven resembling the biblical Golan Heights.

  With a 3% +/– margin of error, the heavens include, but are not limited to: Calvanists, Baptists, Protestants, Lutherans, Methodists, Amish, Sumerians, Hittites, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Roman Catholics, Greek Orthodox, and Mormans. So basically a Christian heaven. There are probably not too many Japanese or Chinese in Heaven. I mean, they came to it late in the game. I wonder, is there a special section for racists in Heaven? I mean racist children that have never broken any of the Ten Commandments, been good kids, accepted Jesus but died early only knowing what their racist family yelled. Do they have to hang out with all the mud people in Heaven? Or is there a special South Boston Public Housing project just for them?

  What if, according to the Catholic concept of Heaven, that due to such stringent rules and the impossibility of maintaining purity in thought and deed, that only seven people were in Heaven, and they’re all bored now.

  Mormons are my favorite religion, I think. Anybody who can convince millions of people that an angel appeared before him at four different occasions throughout one night and told him that under a tree in Upstate NY there were some gold tablets that ONLY HE could unearth and interpret (which would happen by looking into his hat, and then God would tell him what is what) has got my vote for President of Fools (not to be confused with the pope, who is President of Scaredy Cats).

  It’s my observation that religion, at its best, is a benign waste of time. At its worst, of course, it can slaughter thousands and ruin generation after generation of lives—causing, through its u
nrivaled “tough love” stance, millions to take their own lives due to an imposed unbearable shame. Count me in. Sounds like a fun bunch of fun. But religion is not supposed to be “fun.” Or is it? Take a look at the cover of any Watchtower magazine that a Jehovah’s Witness may be lucky enough to throw away after they wake up from their insane delusion. Look at it! That looks like plenty of fun! Standing on the back of a tiger while picking ripe fruit in a bucolic, pastoral setting with a pretty Chinese lady and black man from Kenya while petting a lion! Awesome! What about the whirling Dervishes? The Sufis who twirl around until they hyperventilate, which was a cheap way to get high before chemicals came along? Fun!! And we’ve all seen Fiddler on the Roof and that scene at the end of Schindler’s List, too. Fun times.

  But what about the little babies who died before getting cleansed of their sins, you might ask? What about their fun? Who’s going to speak out for them? Try me! I’ll do it!

  The Five People You Meet in Limbo

  I RECENTLY WAS STUCK IN THE SHREVEPORT, LOUISIANA, AIRPORT suffering through numerous delays of my trip back to 2008 and away from Shreveport. I had exhausted nearly everything readable save for a back issue of Yachting Monthly magazine, which I had already committed to memory. Mitch Albom’s celebrated book The Five People You Meet in Heaven was the only thing left that I hadn’t read. So, even though I suspected that I wouldn’t care for it, I picked it up to read. Twenty minutes later, when I had finished, I got to thinking. There’s Albom’s book, Gender Tripp’s The Five People You Meet in Hell (three of them are Dick Cheney), Dr. Pat Nunking’s The Five People You Meet While Reading The Five People You Meet in Heaven, Su Tsing’s The Five Scented Candles You Will Enjoy in Heaven, and Peter Mayhew’s The Five Star Wars Fans You Will Meet in Hell. But where was the book for all the babies that died before they could be baptized and know God’s sweet redemption from sins they had not yet had the opportunity to commit? This hardly seemed fair. Where was Sean Hannity in this time of need? Is that Roman Catholic too focused on promoting the legitimacy of sanctioned exorcists to ignore the plight of the innocent three-week-olds who are living at the edge of hell? So, with the trillions of innocents floating around in space, I dedicate these lists to them.

  The Five People You Meet in Limbo

  Rubeun Vandalhavenn, a Dutch architect who died in 1838 of lumbago. He is a bit of a dick.

  Afshar Muhammed Timor from Kandahar. A tribal sheep herder from last week.

  Jeannette Dunwoody, a housewife and mother of three from Cobb County, GA. She died in 1981 from complications arising from a medical procedure to remove her eye fat.

  Billy Preston. Yeah, that Billy Preston.

  Grrk, a nomadic hunter and gatherer from 19,939 BC. Died of old age at 22 years. He is virtually useless but provides comic relief while you wait to get into Heaven.

  The Five Snacks You Have While You’re in Limbo

  Tewilliger’s Fudge ’n’ Honey Crinkle Cakes. A sugary sweet taste of a seaside British yesteryear.

  Tom’s of Maine All Natural Cinnamint Toothpaste. This is actually a snack for some people. Seriously.

  Waltman’s cherry-covered overalls. A delicious pant.

  Tom’s Bottom of the Barrel, Powder-Flavored ’Tato Chips.

  Reiling’s Swiss Herbal Rocks ’n’ Dirty.

  The Four Salt & Pepper Shakers You Will Use in Limbo

  The ones that look like Laurel and Hardy

  The ones that look like cows

  The battery-operated grinders currently featured in SkyWays magazine

  The ones that look like Raggedy Anne and Andy

  The Eleven Vitamins You Will Have in Limbo

  B12 (obviously!!)

  C

  K

  C+

  D–

  Niacin (duh!)

  A

  E

  Zinc (surprise!)

  B6

  St. John’s Wort (not a vitamin really, but still… )

  The Eight Greetings You Will Hear in Limbo

  ’Sup.

  Shalom.

  ’Allo, guv.

  Mushi-Mushi.

  Duuuude!

  Buenos dias.

  Ugh.

  Hey, you’re that guy from the thing!

  The Fourteen Twelves You Will Six in Limbo

  Malcom X

  “Where’s the beef?”

  One thousand four hundred and three

  The Who’s Live at Leeds

  Connie Chung

  PooBerries

  Seattle

  Bianca Jagger

  Mylanta Chewables

  A patch of Kentucky bluegrass

  “Yahtzee!”

  Les Savy Fav

  Ideas for T-shirts to Be Sold at Urban Outfitters

  WE’VE ALL BEEN TO URBAN OUTFITTERS, SO DON’T TRY TO bullshit me. If you insist on lying and saying that you haven’t, then I’ll describe it. It’s a store that is targeted to “hipsters,” but no real hipster would be caught dead in there unless they wanted that one cool shower curtain that has pictures of turn-of-the-century French nudie postcards that no one else carries anymore so you have no choice but to go there, right? Most of the stuff there is not too offensively lame. Mostly that kitchy shit that girls who dye one small streak of their hair purple or pink or some other Manic Panic color think is cute. Genetalia-shaped ice-cube trays or mood rings, or Che Guevara–scented candles. Shit like that. But the one part of Urban Outfitters I really take issue with is their line of faux vintage “hip” T-shirts. They are sooooo unfunny and obvious, and only a total tool into Three Doors Down who still drinks vodka and Red Bull and is starting to seriously get into UFC fighting would think they were cool for wearing one. So, with that in mind, I have some suggestions for the next line of T-shirts to be sold at Urban Outfitters. Just sneak them in there amongst the regular ones. Maybe someone will buy one by mistake and get beat up in a bar.

  I Brake for Fucking

  Punch Me, I’m Pregnant

  Don’t Bother Me, I’m a Pedophile

  I Have to Go to the Bathroom

  My Other Shirt Is Funnier

  This shirt was made by slave labor and sold for a 1,200% markup

  Look at what I think is interesting!

  Oklahoma Is for Racists!

  My Other Car Is a Porsche

  Penny for your thoughts? Are you fucking nuts? Try ten bucks for my thoughts is more like it! This is America!

  Don’t Blame Me! I Voted for Christ!

  God Is My Enabler

  I Fucked Jesus

  Mohammed told me he thinks his followers are lunatics

  Hugh Hefner’s got nothing on Joseph Smith!

  My God can beat up your God

  Thank God for Autistic Children

  In Anticipation of Reading This Right Now

  PART OF TODAY’S MODERN BOOK-SELLING PROCESS IS THE “BOOK tour,” in which the author or a suitable pre-approved surrogate * travels to various bookstores around the country and occasional Canadian province and reads excerpts from his or her book that is being sold mere inches away. Depending on the author’s comfort with public speaking, this can be either a frightening and excruciating chore or another in a rarely ending series of ego-inflating exercises happily sponsored by Absolut Vodka. I am of the latter camp. I was trained professionally at the Helmsdale Institute for Audience Ignoring, and that makes me uniquely qualified contractually to help sell this book by reading from it in places like [fill in the name of the city you are currently in here].

  Before I continue and read from the book and then have the raffle for the set of outdoor throw pillows designed by Asconti, let me just say that [fill in the name of the city you are currently in here] is really cool! I love the history and culture here! I can’t believe that that lady who did that thing lived at that house just down the road! As someone who has traveled all over the world, whether shooting pheasant with the Earl of Duke in Shroppingham or enjoying “Untouchables” eyeball soup with the Rani of Kharmuknan, I can
easily say that [fill in the name of the city you are currently in here] is the most wonderful place I’ve ever visited. I wish I could live here! God!! Have you checked out the Bed Bath & Beyond here?! I’ve seen a bunch of those, but man, this one … wow! Seriously, I’m not getting paid by them or anything (NOTE TO EDITOR: SEE ABOUT GETTING PAID BY THEM! Also, the socks need discussion!!!), but you should check out the towel section, tons of great shit cheap! I can see why you’d want to stay here and never leave. Not even to take a bit of time to visit other parts of the world.

  Well, enough about your lovely town and its convenient access to various products that you feel you need, let’s read some of this insulting book! I mean, interesting book! Haha. I said “insulting” by mistake. Slip of the tongue there. Just a Freudian slip. Wait! No, not Freudian, that would imply that I subconsciously felt that this book is insulting when it is not. It’s me who can be insulting … and occasionally cynical and condescending, sure, but not the book. Arrrgh! I’ve got to stop believing my own press! I’m not some grumpy Gen-X Andy Rooney. I’m barely even Gen-X! By, like, a month or something. I missed being a Baby Boomer by about five minutes. I sooooo want to be a Baby Boomer! Anyway, the book is great, I’m proud of it! I wrote a book, for fuck’s sake! What have you ever done? Tipped generously at a Hooter’s in Playa del Carmen? Fixed your elderly neighbor’s satellite dish? Made a kid? Who gives a shit? I can make a kid no one but you and maybe a handful of babysitters will ever give a shit about. I can do that with just my cock and a roofie. If contributing yet another human monkey to this overcrowded world to do nothing with their precious gift of life other than spend it predictably consuming precious resources and blogging about how they think that American Idol is starting to lose it, so they can then grow up to make another un-notable Wal-Mart greeter—if that makes you some sort of hero, then call 911 and tell them I give up.