Kissing Hank's Ass

A parable by Rev. Jim Huber

james@jhuger.com

This morning there was a knock at my door. When I answered the door I found a well groomed, nicely dressed couple. The man spoke first.

John: Hi! I’m John, and this is Mary.

Mary: Hi! We’re here to invite you to come kiss Hank’s ass with us.

Me: Pardon me?! What are you talking about? Who’s Hank, and why would I want to kiss his ass?

John: If you kiss Hank’s ass, he’ll give you a million dollars; and if you don’t, he’ll kick the shit out of you.

Me: What? Is this some sort of bizarre mob shake-down?

John: Hank is a billionaire philanthropist. Hank built this town. Hank owns this town. He can do whatever he wants, and what he wants is to give you a million dollars, but he can’t until you kiss his ass.

Me: That doesn’t make any sense. Why...

Mary: Who are you to question Hank’s gift? Don’t you want a million dollars? Isn’t it worth a little kiss on the ass?

Me: Well maybe, if it’s legit, but...

John: Then come kiss Hank’s ass with us!

Me: Do you kiss Hank’s ass often?

Mary: Oh yes, all the time...

Me: And has he given you a million dollars?

John: Well… no, you don’t actually get the money until you leave town.

Me: So why don’t you just leave town now?

Mary: You can’t leave until Hank tells you to, or you don’t get the money, and he kicks the shit out of you.

Me: Do you know anyone who kissed Hank’s ass, left town, and got the million dollars?

John: My mother kissed Hank’s ass for years. She left town last year, and I’m sure she got the money.

Me: Haven’t you talked to her since then?

John: Of course not! Hank doesn’t allow it.

Me: So what makes you think he’ll actually give you the money if you’ve never talked to anyone who got the money?

Mary: Well, he gives you a little bit before you leave. Maybe you’ll get a raise, maybe you’ll win a small lotto, maybe you’ll just find a twenty dollar bill on the street.

Me: What’s that got to do with Hank?

John: Hank has certain ‘connections.’

Me: I’m sorry, but this sounds like some sort of bizarre con game.

John: But it’s a million dollars, can you really take the chance? And remember, if you don’t kiss Hank’s ass he’ll kick the shit of you.

Me: Maybe if I could see Hank, talk to Him, get the details straight from him...

Mary: No one sees Hank, no one talks to Hank.

Me: Then how do you kiss his ass?

John: Sometimes we just blow Him a kiss, and think of his ass. Other times we kiss Karl’s ass, and he passes it on.

Me: Who’s Karl?

Mary: A friend of ours. He’s the one who taught us all about kissing Hank’s ass. All we had to do was take him out to dinner a few times.

Me: And you just took his word for it when he said there was a Hank, that Hank wanted you to kiss his ass, and that Hank would reward you?

John: Oh no! Do you think we're fools? Karl has a letter he got from Hank years ago explaining the whole thing. Here’s a copy; see for yourself.

From The Desk of…Karl

*****

1. Kiss Hank's ass and he'll give you a million dollars when you leave town.

2. Drink alcohol only in moderation.

3. Kick the shit out of people who aren't like you.

4. Eat right.

5. Hank dictated this list himself.

6. The moon is made of green cheese.

7. Everything Hank says is right.

8. Wash your hands after going to the bathroom.

9. Don't drink alcohol.

10. Eat your wieners on buns, no condiments.

11. Kiss Hank's ass or he'll kick the shit out of you.

Me: This appears to be written on Karl’s letterhead, not Hank's.

Mary: Hank didn’t have any paper.

Me: I have a hunch that if we checked we’d find this is Karl’s handwriting too.

John: Of course! Hank dictated it.

Me: I thought you said no one gets to see Hank?

Mary: Not now, but years ago he would talk to some people.

Me: I thought you said he was a philanthropist. What sort of philanthropist kicks the shit out of people just because they’re different?

Mary: It’s what Hank wants, and Hank’s always right.

Me: How do you figure that?

Mary: Item 7 says ‘Everything Hank says is right.’ That’s good enough for me!

Me: Maybe your friend Karl just made the whole thing up.

John: No way! Item 5 says ‘Hank dictated this list himself.’ Besides, item 2 says ‘Use alcohol in moderation,’ Item 4 says ‘Eat right,’ and item 8 says ‘Wash your hands after going to the bathroom.’ Everyone knows those things are right, so the rest must be true, too.

Me: But 9 says ‘Don’t use alcohol.’ which doesn’t quite go with item 2, and 6 says ‘The moon is made of green cheese,’ which is just plain wrong.

John: There’s no contradiction between 9 and 2, 9 just clarifies 2. As far as 6 goes, you’ve never been to the moon, so you can’t say for sure.

Me: Scientists have pretty firmly established that the moon is made of rock...

Mary: But they don’t know if the rock came from the Earth, or from outer space, so it could just as easily be green cheese.

Me: Not knowing where the rock came from doesn’t make it cheese. And I’m not an expert, but I think the scientific theory that the Moon came from the Earth has been discounted.

John: Aha! You just admitted that scientists make mistakes, but we know Hank is always right!

Me: We do?

Mary: Of course we do, Item 5 says so.

Me: You’re saying Hank's always right because in the list that Hank dictated Hank says Hank is always right. That's circular reasoning!

John: Now you’re getting it! It’s so rewarding to see someone come around to Hank’s way of thinking.

Me: But...oh, never mind. What’s the deal with wieners?

(Mary blushes)

John: Wieners go in buns, with no condiments. It’s Hank’s way. Anything else is immoral.

Me: What if I don’t have a bun?

John: No bun, no wiener. A wiener without a bun is wrong.

Me: No relish? No Mustard?

(Mary looks positively stricken.)

John: (shouting) There’s no need for such language! Condiments of any kind are wrong!

Me: So a big pile of sauerkraut with some wieners chopped up in it would be out of the question?

Mary: (Sticking her fingers in her ears.) I am not listening to this. La la la la la la la la.

John: That’s disgusting. Only some sort of evil deviant would eat…

Me: It’s good! I eat it all the time.

(Mary faints.)

John: (Catching Mary.) Well, if I’d known you were one of those I wouldn’t have wasted my time. When Hank kicks the shit out of you I’ll be there, counting my money and laughing. I’ll kiss Hank’s ass for you, you bunless cut-wienered kraut-eater.

(With this, John drags Mary to their waiting car, and speeds off.)

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*****

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**************

Kissing Hank’s Ass: A parable by Rev. Jim Huber

Copyright © 1997 Jim Huber.

Email Jim at: james@jhuger.com

All rights reserved. Used with permission.

For more heresy, visit the good reverend’s web site:

http://jhuger.com/

The Art of Giving Up

By Dyske Suematsu

One winter night, one of the few Japanese friends I had in my early 20s was playing a guitar at his company Christmas party. He was an architect and was about 10 years older than I was. Before he decided to study architecture, he was making a living as a guitarist in Japan. This was not the first time I heard him play, but I was still stunned by how good he was. After his performance, I told him that it was a shame that he was no longer pursuing his musical career. He then shared with me his recent realization that life is a process of giving up. At the time, I didn’t think much of what he said. I think I remembered it only because of its unusual reversal of the popularly held beliefs. Especially on this land of dreams, “giving up” is seen almost as sacrilegious. Everyone’s livelihood seems to precariously hinge on holding big, albeit distant dreams. For some people, the more dreams, the better. So, what did my friend mean when he said that life is a process of giving up?

Now, I not only understand it, but also believe it myself. Another way of saying the same thing is that life is a process of letting go of your own ego, or letting go of your attachments. Contrary to what one might assume from the connotations of the expression “giving up”, this is done in order to enjoy life more. For instance, you cannot enjoy alcohol if you are attached (or addicted) to it. Enjoyment of anything requires a certain distance. When the idea of self (ego) is attached to the object of enjoyment, you lose the ability to see it for what it is. I believe this is partly responsible for the phenomenon called “writer’s block”, in which the identity “writer” is attached to one’s ego so much that the fear of losing that identity becomes greater than the enthusiasm for writing. It is by giving up the idea of becoming a “writer” that one is able to be a writer and enjoy being one. This is difficult to do especially in a country where one’s existence is defined by one’s profession. The fear of not living up to the reputation of the greatest American writer is probably what killed the writer in Truman Capote, for instance.

“Giving up,” in this sense, isn’t the same as quitting. My friend was still playing guitar; he just wasn’t pursuing it professionally. Most alcoholics cannot enjoy alcohol in moderation; they have to quit entirely. In the same way, when you are attached to something, your choices are either to quit altogether or to depend on it for life. Either way, it is not enjoyable. It is also common to see aspiring artists, musicians, and actors entirely drop their activities once they come to a conclusion that they are not going to make it. At that point, it becomes clear that the driving force behind their creative pursuits was not their enthusiasm or passion, but their attachment to the idea of becoming someone. Or, it is also possible that whatever enthusiasm they had was overwhelmed by their fear of failure. Ironically, I believe that, if you can give up the idea of “making it,” you would have a better chance of actually making it. If you were not under pressure from your own expectations, you would enjoy your activities more, and therefore produce better work.

The big question is: Why do we develop attachments at all? As Aldous Huxley said, most human beings have an almost infinite capacity for taking things for granted. We develop attachments and we don’t even know it. Only when we are threatened by the lack or the loss of them, do we realize how much we are attached to them. If we lose our sight, for instance, some of us would probably consider suicide, but if we think objectively about many blind people enjoying their lives, it seems silly to even be depressed about being blind. Also, why don’t animals have the same problem? A dog could lose its leg, and go on living just as happily as before. Such a dog would obviously struggle and suffer the inconvenience, but its spirit would not be affected by it. Some animals like elephants apparently exhibit the signs of depression from the loss of friends and relatives, but many animals leave their own kids behind almost as soon as they are born, and never see them again. They seem to have no attachments, and live strictly in the present moment.

This leads me to believe that there is an evolutionary reason for our tendencies to develop attachments. The more evolved the species are, the more tendencies for attachments they seem to exhibit. I suppose it is quite obvious in one sense. The more attached to one’s own life, the stronger one’s desire to survive. Natural selection, in this way, perhaps favored those humans with stronger egos. Strong egos clash and create conflicts, but these clashes of ideas and egos force better ideas to float to the top. The ideas themselves go through the process of natural selection. Without egos and attachments, this system would not work, and we as a species would be less equipped to survive.

Zen Buddhism is a process of detachment. It is so concerned with attachment that, one is discouraged from being attached to the very idea of detachment, and I can see why; because attachment actually has positive, useful functions. In this sense, Zen is not a process of detachment, but simply an understanding of what attachment is.

As I grow older and face various physical deteriorations, I’m forced to be in peace with the idea of giving up certain things in life. I could possibly refuse to accept the idea of giving up, and try running 10 miles every morning or spend hours in gym, but if my motivation for keeping up my physical strength is to be in denial, then what I’m really giving up is to have the courage to face reality. Again, this attachment to physical strength will eventually extinguish any enjoyment I might get out of exercising.

Having a child is a double-edged sword where it could expedite this process of detachment, or encourage greater attachment to one’s own ego. If you are to see your own child as an extension of your own ego, you are inclined to mold him into something you want. If you succeed at it, your child strengthens your attachment to your own ego. On the other hand, if you see your child as another person with his own ego, he provides plenty of opportunities to make your own ego objectively observable. In other words, your child becomes a useful tool for you to detach yourself from your own ego.

When you say, “I sacrifice myself for my kid,” what you really mean by it is that you are willing to make compromises between what your ego wants and what your kid’s ego wants. In an ideal world, you want your own ego to coincide with that of your kid (because he is merely an extension of your own ego.) If you had no such expectation, there would be no “sacrifice”, because the difference would be exactly what you would want in order to allow you to achieve the detachment from your own ego.

If my observations are correct, detachment allows us to enjoy life in its uncontaminated form, but attachment allows us to achieve better chances of survival as a species. It appears that the forces of evolution are acting against our desire to enjoy life. Ironic, it might seem, but life is all about the interaction of two opposing forces.

Printed from: http://www.dyske.com

the boys i mean are not refined

the boys i mean are not refined

they go with girls who buck and bite

they do not give a fuck for luck

they hump them thirteen times a night

one hangs a hat upon her tit

one carves a cross in her behind

they do not give a shit for wit

the boys i mean are not refined

they come with girls who bite and buck

who cannot read and cannot write

who laugh like they would fall apart

and masturbate with dynamite

the boys i mean are not refined

they cannot chat of that and this

they do not give a fart for art

they kill like you would take a piss

they speak whatever's on their mind

they do whatever's in their pants

the boys i mean are not refined

they shake the mountains when they dance

ee cummings

Untitled

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear

no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

e.e. cummings