In The Bible, Old and New Testament alike, celestial visitation among the rank and file is commonplace. God, as well as any number of His lieutenants, call on all manner of ordinary mortals, generally advising them to adopt some sort of action or mission. In some of these encounters, actual conversations take place, especially if there’s a misunderstanding. For example, God and Moses meet routinely. Abraham, Jacob, Zechariah, Elisha, Paul and many others shoot the breeze quite often.  Other visitations come in the form of dreams and visions — fire breathing horses, chariots, golden candlesticks, a lamb with seven horns and seven eyes, frogs, dragons, temples and hosts of angels governing over complicated rituals. You know all too well that eminent theologians have dissected the Scriptures and have decreed what is indeed fact, what is metaphorical and what is allegorical. None of it can be bogus, else all of it might be suspicious. So, you see, learned clerics throughout the world somehow make sense of Divine revelations and you go with the flow, trusting in the centuries of their combined wisdom. But you must admit to a certain despondence. Countless nights you lay awake staring into blackness, incessantly invoking the appearance of God, an angel or any other spiritual entity. After years of pleading, you cannot reconcile the utter lack of response — not a glow, not a glimmer and not a whisper, not to speak of a Booming Voice calling your name. And where is Clarence, assuring you with his sweet smile that you’ve had a wonderful life worth living? Nowhere to be found. You imagine there must be billions — or trillions — of such angels with nothing but eternity on their hands. Seems only logical. Would it be such a dreadful imposition to pop in on someone who has the welcome mat out? On any given day, one of the lesser cherubs could easily make a cameo appearance at your bedside, say, for a minute or two. Not a lot to ask. Reserving spiritual visitation for the Biblical centuries seems discriminatory at best, and shameful at worst. To be sure, many individuals in “modern” times claim divine connections and there’s no absence of self-proclaimed messiahs, some unfortunately residing in high places. Joe Smith founded his own religion following a close encounter of the first kind. In a ’94 Newsweek survey, no less than 13 percent of Americans claimed seeing or sensing an angelic presence. But there’s no compelling evidence that God or any of His minions are engaged in personal pow-wows with anyone. If He would simply authorize a celestial courier to visit, or make a personal appearance Himself, you would gladly take the opportunity to offer Him a little marketing advice. You would recommend He identify 1000 of his most trusted Heavenly residents, preferably those who had earned their wings, to simultaneously visit 1000 of the world’s most devout atheists. Each angel would deliver precisely the same message. You can’t presume to dictate that message, but a simple “Hello” or “Yes, there is a Hell, Matilda” would do very nicely. You can only imagine the universal impact of 1000 stunned atheists, swearing in unison, in their native tongues, witnessing to an identical message. Since this fantasy is a product of deranged thinking, you decide to file it as a possible screenplay idea. But your frustration will not allow you to abandon your nightly supplications. However impatiently, you will continue to proffer your invitations. You will ask and wait and ask again. Just one brief, quality visit. After all, who mandated that The Bible should be a closed book? Maybe it’s time to draft the 28th Book of the New Testament. High time.

The economy’s in a cavernous tank. Millions out of work twiddle their thumbs and wield their EBT cards for food and other welfare benefits. The Middle East is still a powder keg except that now the keg is filled with enriched uranium. Like lava flowing relentlessly from the Mauna Loa, a river of Muslims are flooding the streets of a seemingly impotent European continent. The United States is disunited as never before since the Civil War. The anger is palpable. The Black Community has the benefit of more open doors and more opportunity than ever before, including the coronation of a Black President; yet that Community is even more bitter, resentful and grasping than it was before the Civil Rights Act. Meanwhile, a bevy of GOP candidates pitch their wares to a nitpicking audience looking in vain for God Himself.  Mitt’s soft on government healthcare, Perry’s soft on immigration, Newt’s soft in the jowls, Paul’s soft on the military, Cain’s soft on foreign affairs — yada yada yada. And not one candidate has stepped to the plate about a grievance far more insidious than the economy or gay marriage. Something has to be done immediately about the maggots who speed their vehicles down residential streets. You know the story. You’re rounding up leaves and other tree debris for roadside pickup. At some point in the process, you can’t help having a pile of leaves in the middle of the road, when along comes the aforementioned slug. He/she (more like “It”) sees you step politely to the curb and certainly can’t help seeing the heap of debris; yet, with callous disregard, T-bones it doing 40 mph, spreading your work 100 yards. In that instant, knowing it would happen before it happens, you wish for an AT4 that would vaporize that Expedition on the spot. Spending the rest of your life in prison may not be worth the satisfaction; but then, think of the millions of leaf blowing stiffs who would hold you up as their champion. You ponder whether this denunciation is a bit severe but decide that, no, this single example of life on a neighborhood street provides a telltale glimpse into human behavior. And you realize it is this selfsame behavior at the White House and Congress that arrogantly plows over the Constitution and the rights of individuals, creating one mess after the other that somebody eventually has to clean up. Unfortunately, maggots are among the voters who choose that somebody, as evidenced by their relatives who occupy space on the Beltway. For this reason, you hold out little hope that humans might find a moment of lucidity to put aside things like appearance, personal baggage, single issue hangups and  simple prejudice; and choose people who actually have the sharp brainpower and verifiable experience to help the American people tidy up this great country. There is, of course, another option. Give Arnold a Stihl BR 500, send him to Washington and tell him to “blow, baby blow.”

There’s one born every minute. Yep, a sucker. A sap, dupe, fool, idiot, jerk, nitwit, patsy, pigeon, simpleton. That should cover it rather nicely. P.T. Barnum got credit for the mocking adage but probably never said it. Really doesn’t matter who said it. The truth has a way of weathering time. Literally, therefore, in any given minute the world begats thousands of suckers who in time begat millions more. And there you have it. A  thorough explanation of humanity in one simple sentence. You doubtless will argue against this cynicism. You doubtless will argue that humans have come a long, long way since the “beginning,” whenever, wherever or however that beginning took place. As evidence, you will argue that we don’t hang out in trees and, for goodness sake, we have a 4G network to prove it. Unfortunately for you, history teaches that technology — from the wheel to satellite imaging — has not advanced or elevated human behavior a whit. Put your mind to it for, oh, let’s say, 30 seconds; and you must conclude that human beings simply can’t escape their genetic dispositions. If anything, technology simply exaggerates human futility. Witness the online scammers. Historically, predators targeted victims one at a time. Now they have 24-7 access to millions of suckers who can’t wait to prove their stupidity. Needy females of all ages continue to strut their sexually explicit charms in meat markets and the lucky ones only get raped. Lonely widows and widowers, desperate for love and a new journey in life, suck up flattery and attention and get taken for a quick ride until their money runs out. Greedy investors, eager to believe in windfalls, entrust their life savings to  charismatic Bernie Madoffs who are always primed to take candy from the baby . On a mass scale, the biggest saps are Black Americans who bow down before any demagogue du jour who vows to lead them to the promised land as long as they remain good little slaves and stay true to their masters. And they do just that, because being black, pissed off and resentful is more important than being free or self reliant. And then there’s politics — the venue that relies totally on suckers. And being good little suckers, the American people never fail to disappoint. In 2008, they gave the most important job in the world to an individual who never had a job, who never provided a job, who never owned a business, who never produced a product. They elected a blank resume. Mr. Zero. They elected a cardboard cutout with an authoritative speaking style — by God, when he said it, it had to be the truth. The Sermon on the Mount. Amen. Of course, it was a lie — all of it — and therein lies the secret of all the great con men (and women) — from serial killers to gigolos to black widows to business cheats — that secret is having the deceptive charm to lie repeatedly, and after being caught in lies, to persuade you to overlook the lies. And this is what suckers actually do time and again — this is how human beings have behaved from generation to generation. Certainly, you must wonder — with the accumulated knowledge from the brightest minds over centuries — with the clear history of irrational human behavior that irrevocably leads to tragedy — why do humans religiously fall for fakes and phonies? Why do humans inevitably stumble and fall on the same road to nowhere? Why, knowing what you know, do humans repeat the same tired mistakes? Many years ago, Flip Wilson said, “The Devil made me do it.” Maybe that’s the only profoundly true answer to this vexing mystery.  But, if Old Scratch is not pulling his supernatural strings, who or what is? The evidence must lead you to one conclusion only —   that, like all other living things on the planet, humans are genetically predetermined to act and react precisely — according to their specific, preordained Nature. No better. No worse. Might as well get used to it. And suck it up.