The Gaming Outpost

Just why are we here instead of nothing at all? Why is beer so common in all cultures associated with Womynity? Why are there electrons instead of cartrons?

The last one is easy I realized as I stared into my four or is it seventh cup? Cartrons would crash into each other and annihilate a good universe before it got started. At least that is what my car does.

And beer, golden beer, explains it all, even more than why you can’t live with them, and you can’t toss them off the nearest bridge.

There are those who say that the Universe began with a Bang and others with a Beginner. The Bangists, or Bangers, and Bangages…Bangi? They have a problem. No one really believes something starts without a Beginner to start it, not in their heart of hearts which is next to their empty wallet and above their temporarlily swollen tummy. On the other hand, and boy do I sound smart, just like my cousin the economist who gets paid big bucks to tell people what they want to hear, where was I, oh yes, on the other hand, the Beginners, they claim Yahweh or the Cosmic R did it. And they have strong support from Ol’ Ben who said … Beer was proof that God loved man.

Now these theories seem mutually exclusive. Almighty or Asinity *a big word mean stupid or something, Benevolence or Bad Luck, Creator or Chance, Designer or Dice, Effector or Eventual, Forever or Food for the worms, God or Goo, Heavenly or Hoggish but Intelligent Hogs, I AM or I I I, Jesus or Jump off the bridge in despair, Kill as in Thou Shalt Not Murder or Kill Crazy, Love or Luckless, Man the Noble or Man the Manimal…

Let me get another cup. Ahh. Parched I was after that long and rather beautiful oration, if I do say so myself.

But I have had a vision. What if we could combine the two ideas, Accident and Action of the deliberate kind. Instead of Bang and Beginner we have Burp.

In the mists of eternity past (actually it was smog from the cigs…) Mick the Mighty liked to hang out in a bar with his beer in his never emptying mug, and with the dancing girls he created to pass the time with. Now some might say that Mick was an Irishman like meself, but its not true. See there were no Irish yet. You got to keep up.

One particular span of time before time Mick had just finished a particularly huge gulp of beer. And then one of his pleasure girls jumped on his lap.

Out came the most prodigous Burp.

It was our universe in proto-universe form. Now Mick had to be All Mighty because a Universe is a really big thing.

Unlike the Greek gods who came after him, who liked a good drink too, Mick was Power. See, Apollo might scorch the Earth with his Chariot, or close the doors of the sun. Zeus could do even worse, or was it Jupiter. Oh well. If they put a bit of work in to it, any of the Greek’s gods could have destroyed the Earth, and some of them could have managed for the Sun.

But Mick’s proto-universe as it wafted away from him held hundreds of thousands of potential suns in a galaxy, and then the galaxies were in cluster with one cluster named after the coolest of those gods, Hercules, was he a god? Anyways, Hercules Cluster had five hundred galaxies, and then there were superclusters of clusters. Mick totally pawned Zeus, not that they weren’t good drinking buddies. Its just Zeus would throw a lightning bolt to get good service, and Mick would throw a quasar.

And Mick was all knowing as well. After all, a universe is chock full of information. That has to come from somewhere.

But Mick is not a patient fatherly Creator. No, he’s a burper. The girl on his lap squealed in laughter at the Burp, and so Mick used his Divine powers to swirl it around a bit. Then he forgot about that and bent to more pleasurable activities. Not that he was unaware of what happened being all knowing but he was good at ignoring things. Imagine your wife made you mow the lawn right before you were to watch the big game. You come in, hot and sweaty, crack open a beer, and plunk yourself down on the nice couch. You know at some level that later the wife is going to screech at you about ruining her red paisely wondercouch, but right now, you don’t care. Similar.

How godlike is man, in form and conception.

Good Ol’ Will, he knew something, and he liked beer too.

Now we turn from Mick to the proto-universe. Here it is. The basic laws are life-giving because Mick is alive.

This is a huge break because the odds of finding a universe where electrons and life can exist are roughly one in ten, ahem, one in ten followed by ten thousand zeroes, give or take a dozen. I didn’t pay much attention in my math classes, but even I know that’s way worse odds than winning the Powerball.

And the universe is swirling in a metaphoric sense which means energy. It explodes, particles race out making space-time exist with their presence. For unknown reasons, the particles that are racing outward decide in committee to wobble toward each other after a bit.

Presto. Interstellar gas. Except there are no stars to be between about. So, its just gas.

Gravity kicks in for some reason, and things begin to condense and swirl. After a while through a process shrouded by time and illogic gas becomes gas engines also known as stars.

The stars are spinning, probably because they like too. And so the remnants of such spin around them. Of course, some spin in opposite directions and others rotate totally opposite.

And frankly, no one, not me, not any scientists, no one but Mick has a clue as to how this happened. Our best theories say it did not happen. Which is comforting because that means I’m not here, and I don’t have to go to court for my Duh-dud-dumb lecture about automobile usage and alcohol consumption. Can’t a guy catch a break?

Anyways. So there are our planets. Dead as doornails which is just wrong because doornails have lots of life. For one they are covered with bacteria, and for two, there was the time last Christmas were one talked to me.

Planets. Dead. No life. Lightning bolts flashed and amino acids formed at irregular intervals of a billion and twenty-seven years to a billion and twenty-two years, but the amino acids were promptly denatured because they lived in a toxic soup and they had no cell wall to protect them because cell walls were not invented by Mick yet. Not that he was bothering. There was a new pleasure girl and the old one was throwing crockery.

But then the magic happened is what my boss likes to say in that sarcastic voice of his when he questions one of my brilliant plans. A time traveller came back from the future, and the traveller was how to put it…drunk as a skunk.

He Burped. Out of his mouth, his lungs, and perhaps his nose flooded cells. These cells might have been scared, but they too were drunk and thus they did what drunks do, and they began having children willy-nilly with no thought to the future.

There my friends is the beginning of the Human Race or as I like to call it, Womynity. Now you may object that a time traveller creating himself is not logical. You may proclaim that the fact that Science works to tiny, teeny decimal places proves the universe is rational, but I have the perfect counter.

The universe is not rational because my boss denied me the pay raise I deserved. I think I will go tell him that because after all, I’m the man who invented Beer Time-Travelling and caused the existence of the Human Race. You would think he would be grateful. The bar has not quite closed yet, so I’ll have a few more then I’ll drive over to his house and explain it to him.