Philosophers Deli

I just wanted to make a brief point concerning the financial meltdown on Wall Street. Over the past summer, there was a really hot day. I forget which one, but it was the hottest. My wife said it was the humidity, but hey, who knows.

My pockets being empty, I looked in the freezer where she sometimes hides the money. There was a Fudgsicle! My eyes almost popped out of my sweat-soaked head. I grabbed it quick before anyone caught on. I ripped off the wrapper and inhaled the deep, rich, and cooling aroma that only a Fudgsicle can provide. I took a small bite. Oh, God! Oh, Holy Assurbanipal! But I had to stop with the praying cause the Fudgsicle was starting to melt. These opportunities don’t last forever. Plus, some one might want some of the Fudgsicle, although now it was MY Fudgsicle. It started to drip. I started licking the chocolate goo on my hands, but I couldn’t keep up. It was so hot. I shoved the whole thing in my mouth and stood there in bliss as cool Fudgsicle juice slid down my throat to a happy tummy. My eyes rolled and rolled unfocused.  I seemed to drift in and out of Castaneda’s realm of nonordinary reality. Much too soon it was all gone. Gradually my eyes settled on the freezer in a vain search for more Fudgsicles. My wife walked into the kitchen. She asked me what I was doing standing there with the freezer open and two Fudgsicle sticks in my mouth. I spat them out and gave her a glowing look of confidence and determination. I smiled and hoped that she felt reassured that I was in command now. Then I lost it.

“I must have Fudgsicles!” I began running around in circles of pop-eyed desperation.

She stared at me in disbelief. I said, “Hurry, the store closes at two on Sunday. Give me all your money, quick. Other people may be buying the Fudgsicles right now. Hurry! Hurry!”

She didn’t give me any money for Fudgsicles. If there is a god up there in that great land of lakes in the sky, I hope he has Fudgsicles. Each night, before I close my eyes, I pray to Whatever- Is-Up-There( and I hope It is generous ) that it puts aside another Fudgsicle for me. If I live for another fifty years and my prayers are answered, I will get 18,250 Fudgsicles when I die. You can cleanly split a Fudgsicle in two. If I do that, and only have one piece of Fudgsicle a day that will last me only the first 100 years in the afterlife. Obviously, I want much, much more but if Assurbanipal hears my prayers I don’t want him to laugh at me, considering that there are poor and suffering people down here.

I think I understand the ancient Egyptians better now. Like me, they probably worried that they were going someplace hot. And they didn’t have Fudgsicles. But they did have tasty, icy deserts. You had to start with like five tons of ice from Kilimanjaro just to get the equivalent of a single Fudgicle by the time you got to Main Street, Giza. In their ancient writings they refer to this as the “trickle down effect.” But the Egyptians thought big and were very persistent. Long before boats full of penguins brought Fudgsicles to Plymouth Rock, the Egyptians probably filled the pyramids with Kilimanjaricles many times over. Maybe they figured out a way to take it all with you. They certainly didn’t leave any for the rest of us.

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