COLUMN: "Of God, Perot and Cheez Whiz"

With a summer so long, boring and full of reruns ("Star Trek: The Next Generation" just doesn't hold up like the old series), pondering life as an alternative form of entertainment has become a new hobby. I have found plenty of time for such musings because watching TV really only utilizes ten brain cells. The remaining seven have been able to consider something far more important than who will be crowned the next King Stud -- life, politics, God and Cheez Whiz. I don't see myself as some grand diviner of human intentions. But, as someone who makes it a priority to watch "90210" and who accepts our very nature to question, I figure that my thoughts won't be any more wacked than anyone else's. Even if I could convince people that I was right, it would be tough to attract followers. The competition from the Mormons would be pretty fierce. Profit is not my motive however and I don't choose to really try and answer "the question" per se. So, instead of looking for a fundamental answer I have arrived at a fundamental question (that I choose to leave unanswered): Why does Cheez Whiz exist? On one side of the argument it is possible to argue that Cheez Whiz exists because God gave us the ability to create such a wonder and hopes we will learn to use it responsibly. On the other side, our ability to create something so insidious and fake as Cheez Whiz indicates that there is no God. If there were one, He/She would have stepped in long ago to stop us from using it. (If you'd like to try this game on your own, feel free to substitute for Cheez Whiz any other man-made wonder such as McDonald's Shamrock Shakes, DRL, nuclear armaments, or genetically engineered tomatoes.) For years now I have avoided answering the God question and have since moved on to self-analysis. Rather than refining my Whiz Theory I tried to look in my life for the manifestation of the will of some greater force. I thought I found it in Murphy's Law. This is entirely different from Murph's Law, which anyone can ponder at the Tavern. Murphy's law seems to hold more true for me than it does for other people. Like clockwork, my car battery will die if I have to be somewhere on time. Friends forget to meet me at a movie if I buy tickets ahead of time. A date will never call me again if I bragged about our one dinner. The list goes on and on. Now, this sort of thing happens to everyone, but it happens just enough (or I notice it just enough) that it must have some meaning. In response, I have learned to harness some aspects of the mysterious force. I can now make the phone ring by going to the bathroom. I can make a guest arrive early by placing a long distance call. Too much of this sort of thinking has its downside, you begin to knock on wood a lot. I was rather proud of myself for having wrestled control of my life back from fate and chance but alas, I was not the first. There is a TV show all about a master of fate, Parker Lewis -- who can't lose. MacGyver also has a knack for this sort of thing. But before armchair philosopher season ends and armchair quarterback season begins, I'd like to give it one more try and see if I can try to describe how Americans have dealt with their "question." It is the lottery that has become our God. Miracles are no longer talking bushes or parting bodies of water. Instead, it is the magic phenomenon of having umpteen millions of dollars dumped in our laps by some state gaming commission or magazine clearing house that captivates our attention. The local newsstand is our temple and Ed McMahon is our prophet. If you've ever been near someone who has won a scratch off game or come close to winning a "big one" (I once witnessed someone matching five out of six on a $40 million jackpot) their reaction parallels a religious experience. People gather around them as if they were witnessing the second coming of Elvis. Television reaches out to our new deity. The daily lottery drawing is sandwiched between the network news and Jeopardy, two of the most poignant examples of lottery oriented programming. The evening news devotes almost as much time to lottery winners as sufferers of other "acts of God." Game shows are competitions based on the lottery. Who remembers "Press Your Luck" ("No Whammy, No Whammy, Stop!")? Well, that game show was cancelled because too many people figured out how to beat the Whammy. It is not that we have completely given up the standard forms of worship and turned away from religion et al. It's just that Americans have also decided to avoid "the question" and have settled for a more tangible commodity. This "lottery theory of life" (or the "Big Bang for your Buck" theory) has really manifested itself in our political process. Before the NAACP thing, where Ross Perot did almost as much damage to himself as Dan Quayle does every fifteen minutes, it was beginning to look like he might have succeeded in his bid for the Presidency. Perot represented something much more fundamental than a protest vote. His popularity signaled that a large proportion of the American people had given up their belief in an interested God and turned to chance as their omnipotent ruler of choice. It is hard to believe that people want Perot on the ballot because of either his platform (is there one, and if there is maybe he should stand on it to make himself taller) or his looks (Yoda on SlimFast). Rather, his presence might scare Bush and Clinton into some real campaigning and, perchance, the American voters might think about for whom they will vote. But so much of the talk about Perot concerns the ruckus that will be caused if he manages to split the electoral vote three ways. In the event of a three way tie it would be a real lottery to see who would be our next president. This possibility is already making this year's race the most interesting in decades. I really have spent far too many hours sitting in front of the TV this summer (the living room is the only air conditioned room in our house so I do have an excuse) so pardon me if my random musings have become influenced by my channel changing. I guess that if I sat around long enough I could probably bring Disco Dancing into this whole concept, but I think you are safe for now. The Comedy Channel is covering the Democratic National Convention and I wouldn't miss that for all the Cheez Whiz in the world. Oh yeah, one more thing before I do pick up the remote, check the dollar bill in your wallet, it should say, "In God we Trust."

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