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Would it be hard to consider that we were not created by God, but
by a race of aliens,
and we probably shouldn't call them aliens because what kind of gratitude, respect or awe does that convey?
It would obviously be awkward to meet them if they were ugly and they
stunk, but would it be hard to cope if they, also, didn't know who made
them, where they came from,
what is the secret that pi won't tell no matter how hard you throttle it til it's spewing out digits into a googleplex decimal places and will the universe eventually scream, collapse and vanish?
No, my darlings, it's easy!
And if such notions surface to taunt you when you're in the corner of the abyss where only the dead go to pee,
do not fret,
for as long as you survive the taunting with more dignity than a churchgoer or UFO doofus, which means you can let the you-know flow out of your you-now like a Malibu mudslide and cry like the most infantile baby that ever was,
this sort of trial is easy, don't ever doubt, at least for too long that you are the creature most likely to have creative beauty bursting out of its heart,
which is much more rewarding than guaranteed passage on God's private
jet to heaven, where the peanuts are so incredibly delicious they make
you want to start singing.
