It's very fashionable in this day and age to believe that God is not real, or that She is dead, or has otherwise gone into several thousand years of cosmic radio silence since we brutally murdered His Son.
I don't think this is true. I believe God is constantly screaming at us. He doesn't listen to us; we have nothing interesting to say. Instead god is pulling Their hair out and yelling until Her throat is hoarse and throwing heavy-handed symbolism at us that sails above our heads and breaks into a million pieces against the walls in which we have imprisoned ourselves.
Take these frozen moose in Alaska. This is some biblical shit. Local middle-school teacher and Bible camp volunteer Brad Webster is out taking his new friend for a walk in the frigid wilderness when he stumbles across two bull moose, antlers locked, frozen together in a pool of ice.
It's breathtaking. It's a darkly beautiful summary of the zero-sum game we call life. Moose are great hulking ugly delicious creatures, and like all other organic life on earth they are driven in all things by the pull of hunger and lust and the idiot thrill of mortal violence.
Antlers are nature's second dicks, great big boners growing out of your forehead, a permanent display of phallic power. Males will slam their antlers into each other as a mating ritual and the winner gets to fuck. This is the brutally beautiful hierarchy of the animal kingdom. To the victor goes the spoils, all spoils, the pure spoil for which all others are pale substitutes.
But like real dicks, antlers are subject to the cruel genetic lottery. Some are smooth and large, aesthetic marvels that human art will never reproduce despite its slavish dedication. Others grow arbitrarily in hideous nonsense patterns, a broken jigsaw puzzle of velveteen bone.
And so it was on some fateful autumn evening when two male moose met near an Alaskan river. Mating season was almost over and both of them had fucked up antlers. It was now or never. One would live forever through the genes he shuddered into a uterus and the other would skulk around screaming the word "cuck" and posting on incel forums.
They snorted and charged. Their antlers clashed together, smashing thunderously, slamming into one another with a brittle thud. They were locked, the gentle clacking of their dead bone foreheads punctuated by grunting and wheezing. They staggered back and forth, two betas trading inches in the mud. Minutes pass. Hours. Eternity.
Suddenly, something gives. A hoof in the mud, a solid grip, a final thrust. An antler pierces the skull. Instant braindeath, legs buckle; an immediate collapse. But the winner is robbed even of the short, thrilling frisson of victory. He tries to pull his antlers away but instead he's stuck, locked into a fatal embrace. The weight of the corpse pulls him down into the river and he frantically struggles for air.
It's too little, too late. He can't get clear of the river. He is trapped beneath the water by the foe he has just vanquished. He will die without fucking. The only sweet release he will know is the cold embrace of death, slipping in as the frantic nerve impulses ebb away. He struggles until the cold water fills his lungs and slowly encases him in ice.
It's not glamourous. But it could be worse. They could both have lived, entangled, stranded on the forest floor, slowly starving to death, or eaten alive by wolves or bears or worse. They could have died forgotten, bleached skulls decaying far from the prying eyes of man, far from the judging eyes of God.
But instead they laid there, bound together in eternity, frozen under eight inches of ice. Until an amateur Bible camp groundskeeper stumbles across them on a wilderness hike.
"It was a surreal sight—o serene and quiet, but a stark vision of how brutally harsh life can be," Webster said later of the encounter. No shit.
The skulls have since been carved out of the ice, sitting in a freezer somewhere in the northernmost state of the Union. The rest of the moose were left there for the dogs and any other scavengers in the area. The plan is to clean the skulls and mount them at the nearby Bible camp, to remind the children of how fierce nature is and what will happen to them if they masturbate too much and let their dicks consume their lives.
Motherfucker found this a week before the US election. A week before a tangerine clown's performance of hypermasculinity would catapult him into the White House and destroy the fucking planet. A perfect visual metaphor for the folly of man, the folly of reducing the human condition to a gentrified animal kingdom. He who lives by the sword will surely also die. He who waves his broken dick around will get a bunch of idiots killed.
God is screaming at us. We are bad at listening.
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