Well, this we now know:
There is a God.
He is good. He is great. He is a hoot.
God is a fan of David Lynch movies and the Aqua Teen Hunger Force. He's the one who made the soundtrack to "Dark Side of the Moon" fit "Wizard of Oz." He smokes a lot of weed. But why not? He created weed.
God loves us. Of this, I have no doubt. We entertaineth him. And today, let us celebrateth another Revelation.
The former major league slugger Jose Canseco accidentally shot himself in the hand at his house in Las Vegas on Tuesday afternoon. Canseco told the police he was cleaning his gun in the kitchen when it fired, shooting a finger on his left hand.
OK, I know what you're thinking. A more perfect metaphor for the folly of humankind would be to have Canseco shoot himself in the foot, or - better yet - blow off his mighty Johnson. Nah. That stuff has been done to death. David Lynch would have him shoot off a finger and replace it with something ultra-cool, like a laser pointer. After that, Canseco needs to befriend a singing dwarf.
I don't mean to snicker over Canseco's injury. One of the craziest legacies of baseball's 10-Year War on Steroids is that Jose Canseco may someday be viewed as a prophet, rather than court jester. Canseco goes down as one of the few players who was probably telling the truth about dugout drugs, even though his testimony came out in such orgasmic gushes of ego that nobody else could stomach it. Canseco called out Alex Rodriguez and Roger Clemens long before it became fashionable, and long ago, the Gammonites shouted down any calls for his enshrinement in Cooperstown. The guy led Oakland to several great seasons, and the way he's been deleted from public memory, you'd think Joseph Stalin was the commissioner of baseball.
But not today! Nope. Today, Canseco gets another 15 minutes of fame. (Hey, did you know that during your 15 minutes of fame, you can save big on car insurance?) It costs only a finger, not an arm and a leg.
In the end, when we're eating creamed corn in that final diaper, the guy in the next bed will mention Jose Canseco, and we'll laugh until the nurses have to increase our medication. I'll remember Jose for dating Madonna, for pitting his wife against Clemens' wife in a backyard barbecue tit contest, and now this: Shooting himself in the hand. (Actually: I will also remember him pinch hitting as a Yankee in the World Series, and taking three strikes - right down the middle - never lifting the bat from his shoulder and just marching back to the dugout without a care in the world. Ahhh, Jose...)
Oh yeah. There is a God, folks. And no matter how bad things are going down here, make no mistake: He's having a ball.