I had never given the subject of reincarnation much thought until a few
years ago. It was then that I first realized that it could explain a major problem that has developed in this country.
There are several theories of reincarnation. The one that most closely
describes our problem says that we all start life as a microbe. After a few million lives as a microbe we finally become developed
enough to live as a tiny insect, such as a flea. Over a few million other lives we gradually move up the chain of life to
become a mammal, perhaps a mouse. Then maybe a rabbit, a dog, a monkey and finally we are ready to take on the responsibility
of being human.
But over the past century or so, the earth’s population has gotten
out of proportion. The human population has exploded while the number of lower forms of life are declining. The results is
that there are not enough lower forms of life around to be filled with the lower souls, while a vast number of human bodies
are being born without enough human souls to fill them. As a consequence, we have a large number of human bodies being occupied
by lower animal souls. In other words, we have a bunch of jackasses parading around in human form.
Now I want you to think about this for a minute. Just look around at the
people you encounter as you go about your business. Watch the way they act, the kind of language they use, the intelligence
they display. Look carefully and I bet you will recognize quite a few of them.
Jackasses are only comfortable when among their own kind. That is why they
gather in herds. There are many small herds around America and a number of larger herds. The largest herd of Jackasses is
located on the banks of the Potomac River, where they rush from one side of their pasture to the other, stomping, braying
and stirring up clouds of dust.
Some members of these jackass herds pretend to be elephants, but the still
act like jackasses. Others attach a set of horns on their heads and pretend to be goats. These line up on either side of the
pasture and charge each other butting heads furiously.
It is impossible to tell exactly what they are doing because all the running
around, stomping the ground and blowing hot air causes a vast dust storm. There is so much dust and noise that none of them
can hear or see what the others are doing, and we surely have no chance of figuring them out.
But I have an idea. That big pasture they play in is surrounded by a big
circle of concrete called a Beltway. Sense we are becoming so skilled at building fences along the Mexican border, perhaps
we should build a fence along this beltway. Then we can let them run and stomp and bray at each other to their hart’s
content. Just so long as they leave the rest of us alone.
We will obviously never be rid of these human jackasses, but wouldn’t
it be nice if we could at least ignore them?
Copyright 2007 by Frank Gillispie
