Millions of years ago, one of my ancestors - a small, untintelligent microbial blob of slime - offended the Powers That Be.
I'm guessing this little gloppy thing extended a pseudopod, gripped a tiny grain of sand, and used it to bludgeon the Chosen Blob. In so doing, he/she/it brought down the wrath of whatever supernatural forces are trying to manage everything.
Since then, those powers have waited, quietly, watching my genetic line evolve, and waiting for their chance. First, they tried to have the 2,520,212th generation wiped out by a rogue Allosaurus stampede. That didn't work - one of my tiny mammalian ancestors was lucky enough to end up in the slimy muck between the dino's toes.
At generation 3,122,000 they tried a humungous asteroid. Can't you picture it: "Hit my
Chosen Blob, will you? How's that for a grain of sand!?"
Yet again, they miscalculated. The asteroid wiped out the dinosaurs, thereby making it easier for my rodent-like great-great-great-great^99999 ancestors to emerge from their hiding places and take over. Ooops.Then
, about 5,000 years ago, they sent the Asyrians to lay waste. Hah. We kicked their asses.
In the 1920s-1940s they almost got us, too. But Stalin missed, Hitler went insane, we moved to New York, and generation 10,231,231 lived to breed and obliviously wave their genetic middle finger at the wrathful gods.
So, I'm generation, what, 10,231,234. I've survived the LA Riots, 2 major earthquakes, pneumonia, law school, riding a bicycle in Portugal, riding a bus in Israel, even walking alone in East L.A. in 1992.
But They figured it out. Don't shoot for the big stuff. Skip the asteroids, tsunamis, defective bicycle wheels (thought you had me that time didn't you - pikers) and pestilence. Chip away at it instead. For instance:
I'm managing the launch of a web site. This project has been, well, cursed. I can only explain the perfect storm of stupidity whirling around it as some form of divine vengeance. We've seen: A credit card processing house shutdown; a total failure on our part to deliver discount information to a fulfillment house (for 4 days); the total failure of that fulfillment house to notice (duh?); a complete change of design direction by the client 4 weeks before launch; a sudden anti-beagle bias on the part of the client (don't ask); busted e-mails; broken links.
It's like 12 years of stupidity packed into a single client.
Just to cap it, when I personally launched their adwords campaign, I somehow entered an incorrect URL as the ad address. The ad got 2 clicks before it somehow magically fixed itself (really). Who were those 2 clicks?
The client's CFO and CEO.
So, this is my appeal:
Oh Great and Powerful Spaghetti Monster
I will sacrifice a squirrel, cow or beast of your choice, or any person who insists that Saddam Hussein attacked the US, to you. If you just admit that you've had your fun. It was one little single-celled organism for chrissake.