The Meanings of Life, Part Two

March 7, 2006

A few months ago, I posted a few metaphors for life, more genuine and realistic than that ‘box of chocolate’ / ‘river flowing to the sea’ bullshit you usually hear.

By now, I fully expected a few of these obvious improvements to catch on. I figured we’d be have late-night infomercials with motivational motormouths telling us ‘Life is like a stint in juvie‘ or ‘Life is like milking your cat‘. I thought the phone calls would roll in, with movie producers clamoring to build Forrest Gump II: The Golden Years around the line:

‘Mama always said life was beautiful but thorny — like a stripper wearing a cactus G-string.‘

“When you get a little further along, you’ll end up eating nasty things like buffalo sphincters or goldfish testicles, possibly on a bet.”

The calls, I’m sad to report, have not rolled in. And none of the informercials I’ve been watching have gotten on board, either. There are plenty of get-rich-quick hucksters, uberslick life counselors, sincerely earnest fitness consultants, and some huckster hawking this boogery-looking gunk that’ll apparently clean hot fudge stains off your sheets like magic. You filthy horny perverts, you.

But nowhere among the homilies and adages, the fast talking and the philosophizing, do I hear any of these yobbos telling us what life is really like. Instead they push prefab pablum like, ‘Life’s what you make it.‘

No. An omelette is what you make it. Life’s different than that. And usually has less bacon.

‘You have to grab life by the horns!‘ they shriek.

Sorry. The last time I grabbed something ‘by the horns’, I spent three days in the infirmary with an ice bag tied to my crotch. And that was just a baby goat at the local petting zoo. There’ll be no more ‘horn grabbing’ in this life, thank you very little.

It seems the point hasn’t yet gotten across. No one’s spouting the real truth about life, like: It’s too short. It’s sometimes frustrating. And exercising every day may make you feel better, but it won’t necessarily make it last any longer.

Fine. To hammer it home, here are a few more things that life is really like. Save that ‘box of chocolates’ for Valentine’s Day, chumley. The adults are talking now.

‘Life is like hunting for truffles.‘:

You’ll spend all your energy looking for rare, beautiful treasures, only to find that you’re surrounded by filthy brown-nosed pigs most of the time. You may find it’s best to cut your losses, give up your dreams, and merely strive to look good by comparison, by keeping your own snout out of the muck.

‘Life is like a game of nude Twister.‘:

It’s never quite as titillating as you think it ought to be. And the more interesting things get, the more likely you are to hurt yourself. Plus, it seems that every time you turn around, some guy’s showing his ass. Also, when it’s over, we’ll all end up naked and sweaty and smelling vaguely of cheese.

‘Life is like a liposuction treatment.‘:

Gradually, you’ll transform from chubby and happy to skinny, grumpy, and sore. You won’t quite know how or exactly when it happened — and truth be told, you really don’t want to know. It’s nearly impossible to get through it unscarred, and at the very end, you’ll likely find yourself in a drafty hospital gown, wondering whose bed you’re sleeping in and when they’re bringing that damned applesauce.

‘Life is like an episode of ‘Fear Factor’.‘:

Early on, you’ll do a lot of stupid things involving speeding cars, water skis, and falling out of airplanes. When you get a little further along, you’ll end up eating nasty things like buffalo sphincters or goldfish testicles, possibly on a bet. By the end, you’ll revert to your fast-driving, risk-taking careless ways — just before you realize that the people prettier than you are the ones making all the cash. And all the while, some piggly little Italian dude will hang around, making fun of you and pinching the women’s asses.

‘Life is like the shorts in the NBA.‘:

In the beginning, you’re wispy and flimsy and too short to serve any real purpose. People will often laugh and point, while trying not to look directly at you. You gradually grow, but eventually you turn saggy and floppy in all the wrong places, and look just as ridiculous as before. And people still laugh and point — but at least you’re worth a lot more money now. There’s a silver lining for your elastic band, sparky.

‘Life is like walking through a car wash.‘:

At first, you’re filthy and miserable and in need of a bath. Then you’ll get soaked, sudsed up, slapped around, and blown. But not always in that order. And certainly not in the ways you’d like to be. By the end of it all, you’ll be left messy and exhausted, with wax in orifices where it really doesn’t belong. But if you’re lucky, you can get some kid to towel you down for a dollar. So that’ll be nice.

‘Life is like French kissing your grandma.‘:

No matter how little you flap your lips or wag your tongue, it always seems to be too much.

‘Life is like having a really small penis‘:

It’s too short. It’s sometimes frustrating. And exercising every day may make you feel better, but it won’t necessarily make it last any longer. Also, no matter how nice you are, women will probably snicker at you behind your back.

See? How hard was that? Get out there and spread the word, people.

(Not the ‘small penis’ thing, either. You know what I mean. Don’t make me start a rumor about your granny-Frenching. I’ll do it.)