It all makes sense now. When one is diagnosed with cancer a lot of seriously guilt-laden crap runs through your mind. One thinks about divine justice and karma. One searches through one’s mind for all the times they white lied, thought a bad thought, were tardy, fudged a resume, blamed a bad smell on another or slightly under tipped. One weighs each damning incidence against one’s concept of an angel’s code of behaviour and tries to figure out if there was one particularly terrible event or an accumulation of misdeeds that triggered those cells to overgrow. We all know that stuff like murder, rape and pillage doesn’t lead to cancer because that would just be too simple. It is the little things that are going to get you in the end.
My mother sent me an internet chain email today promising me good luck if I passed it along to a bitchmillion people within an impossible time frame. That is when it dawned on me the real reason why I have cancer – I ALWAYS delete those fucking annoying spam shit things. I hate them. HATE ‘EM! Obviously years of accumulated chain-email 'deletement' must have maxed out my good deeds account. I have a poor cosmic credit rating. So imagine my conflict to be offered guaranteed good luck and a wish come true if I only pollute all my nearest and dearests’ inboxes with an “Irish Wish”. Gee, cure my cancer and alienate my friends or hit delete as usual thereby inviting even further wrath on top of the apocalypse I have already. Hmmmmmm That is a tough one.
My logic held firm, stubborn woman that I am. I will hit delete and take my chances because if God/Allah/The Universe/Insert Divine Being Of Your Choice Here chooses to punish my ass for not wasting valuable time and bandwidth passing along some schmaltzy little shamrock ditty then He/She/It can feel free - I don’t play that way. If that is the meaning of life and forwarding cheap sentiment and conditional blessings is the way to fulfillment and sublimation then SMITE ME NOW!
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