Give My Regards to Beelzebub

“That brings me to Part One of my theory that I humbly call ‘The Offal Sanctuary,’ said Shecky.

Arthur exercised his eyebrows to a long count of one. “You’ve talked my ear off for better part of an hour and we’re only to Part One of your theory? And you have the audacity to call it ‘The Offal Sanctuary?’ ”

“As you say it,” said Shecky. “‘The Offal Sanctuary.’ Go back to my original premise on how society started and bring it to the present, how life proceeds for children in this day and age. Boys and girls all over the world go through a period of learning from their parents and a period of learning at state-sanctioned schools. Power versus power. One versus at least two, because there is always society on the outside and a caretaker on the inside. All kids are brought up with these two forces telling them what to do and how to do it, then, all of a sudden, the kids are cut off, they become their own caretakers, one on one with society, and the only real ‘gift’ they’ve been given is years of excess baggage, i.e. other people’s rules, beliefs and fears, all of it heaped on their shoulders, which they will no doubt carry for the rest of their lives and ‘gift’ to their own offspring, unless they one day realize that none of it ... none of it ... is of their making and, in fact, easily discarded. But usually what happens is that before children can figure this out, hormones rage, minds blink, and the kids are sent away, lugging the weight of the world, into the great department store of life with a $10 bill and instructions to buy the one, exact thing that will make them happy. The kids, who haven’t even been encouraged to read the aisle placards, have no idea. They bump into things in the darkness until they settle on a place of safety. The power of society almost always prevails.”

Arthur swallowed the rest of his ice and leaned over the coffee table to grab the bottle and pour himself a remnant.

“Picture it another way,” said Shecky. “Mommy and Daddy have taken care of all your needs for every waking second of your stinking childhood and adolescent life. Then one day they take you to a pier on the ocean of excess, and as you consider the vast nothingness, they push you in the water and wave from the dock. They are there for you, but you can’t swim yet and they won’t help you unless you’re drowning. And that is in the best of families. You are forced to make your own life choices. Suddenly you realize it’s a sea of urine and the tide is taking you out. You’re gasping for air because you can’t swim, the water’s foul and all you can hope is to dog-paddle over to any land mass that comes in your path. And anything solid that you happen to grab onto is a pile of excrement. It stinks, but it’s solid, and it gives you a chance to breath. But you don’t like it so you paddle to another mound in the sea, but it’s the same thing, another stinking pile of shit. And finally you give up and stay on one of the islands, not because it’s better than any of the others, but because you’re tired and you don’t want to swim in urine anymore.”

“Yeah,” said Arthur, “I can see that.”

“But if you think of it,” said Shecky, “You realize everyone else has to contend with the same shit. That’s all there is! If you resign yourself to the fact that all you get is a pile of shit, then you realize that it is soft and you can mold it. You can create little statues out of the crap, or you can make a castle of shit to live in. Maybe you can walk around, pound down the turf, and make an island that other people will want to swim to. Maybe you can push your pile of shit over to a pile commanded by another guy and then you’ll have twice the shit. It’s your shit to do with what you want!”

“I can’t wait to hear Part Two of your theory,” said Arthur.