The universe is really, really big. In fact, it’s too big. There’s just no reason for it to be so stupidly big. What the hell does it need all that room for? Most of it is just empty space anyway.

And, from what I understand, it’s infinite, too. Why? What possible reason could anything have for being infinite? Just think–it keeps going on and on and on, without ever even coming close to ending at any point, ever. It just doesn’t make any sense. And what’s worse, it’s just plain irritating. Infinity is a concept that seems to dance around singing “Ha-ha! Ha-ha!” like a bratty little kid who enjoys being irritating. “I’m never-ending! Nyahh-nyahh!” it seems to taunt us.

Have you ever tried to get your mind around the concept of infinity? You can’t. There’s no beginning or end to it–it’s just one, big floppy mess spread out over everything. And you don’t have to go outside and look off into the heavens to imagine it, either. You can find it right here in the period that’s about to end this sentence. Imagine moving closer and closer to it, until it’s as big as a basketball…then closer, until it’s as big as a football field…and then closer still, until it’s as big as the Grand Canyon, and then so big it fills your vision with utter blackness. That’s just the beginning. Infinity goes on just as far in that direction as it does if you’re traveling to Alpha Centauri or one of those other outer space places with dumb names because there’s so damn many things out there to name that you eventually just have to start churning out the first dumb names that pop into your head.

Heck, let’s name some stars right now. Finster. Plotz. Dog Dick. Your Mom. Those names are just as valid as the ones astronomers come up with. Next time you’re strolling around under the stars with someone, gaze up into the heavens and say, “Look, there’s Dog Dick and Your Mom. Aren’t they beautiful tonight?”

Everything in the universe is so inconveniently far apart that, the way things are going, we as a species must evolve for several hundred more years before we can even get to the nearest stupid little star. Heck, it’ll take us forever just to make it to the other planets in our own dinky solar system. What’s up with that? I mean, really…what’s the point? It just sounds like poor allocation of space to me. If you’re going to put a 7-Eleven somewhere, you put it where it’s convenient for people to get to, right? Which means that the universe is arranged more stupidly than the placement of 7-Elevens. That’s scary.

I can hear you saying, “But porfle, it’s God’s plan. We just don’t understand it.” You may not actually be saying that, but I can hear it–certain combinations of medications are funny that way. Well, I’m not all that sure God has a plan for everything. What possible plan could there be for an infinite number of stars, planets, and useless debris floating around in a never-ending expanse of emptiness? If they’re just there to break up the monotony, which is all infinity is in the first place, then why create such a monotonous thing to begin with?

I think the universe may be evidence that God just likes to keep busy. It’s like your old granny who likes to sit around crocheting mufflers. She doesn’t do it to be creative, she just does it to keep from going nuts. If she had her way, she’d just sit there and crochet one stupefyingly long muffler that would stretch from Saskatchewan to Rio de Janero and back, but she can’t do that because somebody would eventually stick her in a nut house, so she breaks them up into separate mufflers and calls them “gifts.” So maybe galaxies and solar systems and stuff are just God’s Christmas and birthday gifts to us. We can’t actually do anything with them, but let’s face it–you never wear those friggin’ mufflers, either.

Of course, some say that “God” is a silly concept, and that anyone in their right mind knows that the universe wasn’t created that way. How was it created, you might ask them? Well, as these more intelligent and rational people will tell you, the universe was created by–get this–a “big bang.” There wasn’t anything there, nothing at all, and then suddenly…BANG!!! The universe appeared! Uh-huh. Sounds to me like some frustrated scientist asked his three-year-old kid for help with that theory. “It just went BANG, Daddy! That’s where the nooniberse comed from!” I have a feeling this “big bang” theory may have also included giant dancing teddy bears and magic seahorses and stuff before Daddy whittled it down to the more familiar version taught in universities.

Are we the only intelligent life in the universe? I don’t know, but what if we are? Would the universe still exist if we, as sentient beings, weren’t here to acknowledge it? And if it did, what would be the point? It would still be just one big, dead, endless piece of crap. Which is what most of it already is anyway. Our most powerful telescopes can only show us a mind-numbingly small amount of it to “ooh” and “aah” over–the rest of it is just floating around out there doing nothing particularly important. What if the whole big, worthless shebang just suddenly blew up? Would it even make a sound if we weren’t here to hear it?

I hate thinking about this stuff. Infinity gives me a headache. I need to fire up the DVD player and watch “The Beast of Yucca Flats” or something. It’s wonderfully finite–only 54 minutes long–and it has Tor Johnson in it. It goes on for awhile and then it ends. And it’s a heck of a lot more entertaining than the empty space between Dog Dick and Your Mom. The universe could learn a thing or two from “The Beast of Yucca Flats.”


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