The Four Letter Word

I am sure you are all initiated. Prudence however dictates that I should err on the conservative. Why I should err at all, I am yet to figure out. Before I digress into the virtues or otherwise of erring, let me get back to erring, think that you are all uninitiated and tell you about the four letter word.

The word is life. L – i – f – e. That is four letters too. Now you know why it is like that.

What is life like? For that matter, what is life?

For most part, for most people, life is what happens when you are busy trying to overcome the hindrances in making money and managing to get to the actual business of making it (Refer to Post Script). For some others, it is what happens while you are busy doing potty.  There is however a slight problem with these. The world of humans, as it happens, does not really like functional definition of things.

It wants dolled-up and dressed up definitions. You do not call it ‘a tin can that you take chances of dying in everyday’. You call it a car. You do not call it ‘a nifty idea to make sure that you work even on a holiday’. You call it a blackberry. While dolled-up definitons like these have been relatively easy, this particular four letter word posed persistent problems. In fact, finding a definition for this has been stupendously difficult and equally time taking.

Several blokes went to the extent of growing their hair long, having their busts sculpted in stone and even having themselves called philosophers simply for trying to answer this question. So what we know is that we do not call them ‘good for nothing people who try to answer unnecessary questions’. You call them philosophers.

If you that this was surprising, what is even more surprising is, despite all this sauntering about with long hair and stone shaping, none of these blokes could come up with an answer that the world at large liked and agreed to.  What they failed to realise is that the best definiton of a four letter word is often another four letter word.

Now that the realisation has been taken care of, we can safely move towards more pressing issues, namely, life and the definition of it.

The answer, if you asked Douglas Adams, would have been ten less than forty-two. But then, there are two factors at hand. One, I am not Douglas Adams (peace be upon him), and two, ten-less-than-forty-two is not a four letter word. The answer is startlingly simple. Life is nothing but the most mastodonically consummate form of shit (a four letter word).

Shit, as we all know, apart from coming out of assholes, happens. But, it mostly happens to me or to you, depending on which side of the myself-fence you are on.  The same way, Life, as you, the initiated, must have already realised not only happens, but also happens so to everyone and everything.

Also, if it does not happen, you are not just simply screwed or f***ed. You are dead.

The bottom line is this. If you are alive you are an asshole. In fact, every person alive is the most arrant asshole because life is the most arrant shit and it comes out of us. This realisation has twin benefits. Not only do you know you are an asshole, you would also not feel bad when someone called you an asshole. Not only do you have one, you are also one. This will avoid many unnecessary altercations, especially when one asshole filled with alcohol calls another filled with more alcohol an asshole promptly resulting in more alcohol becoming airborne and then landborne quickly followed by some bones meeting otherbones in painful ways.

Being called an asshole is like being called human, tall, handsome, john, or, for that matter, dick.

If this explanation does nopt fill the horizon of your expectation, I am certain that it must have shrunk the horizon to fit around the explanation. If it did neither, there is something else and that most obviously is, a secret.

P.S.: If hindrances to making money were overcome, we would all be obscenely rich, or money would most likely lose all value. Considering the history of mankind, the chances of the former are very bleak while the chances of latter happening and thereby resulting in an even more abominable invention than money making us all even more miserable, are depressingly high.

P.P.S: I like black chicks. Especially when they look as succulent as the one above.