You’ve probably had those nights when, for whatever reason, you lie in bed for hours, alternately staring into the darkness, tossing and turning and punching the stuffing out of your pillows, and playing mental word games in the hope that you’ll fall asleep out of sheer boredom.

Last night was one of those nights. And in the void, I found myself thinking about my next life (assuming there will be one).

Setting aside the question of reincarnation for the moment, let’s investigate the concept of Heaven.

There are millions, possibly even billions, of people whose faith in an afterlife includes a belief that, when we enter into that higher realm, all of life’s mysteries will be revealed to us.

I do hope that’s true, because I have a whole list of questions that I plan to bring with me.

The big existential questions — what is the meaning of life? . . . are we alone in the universe? . . . when and how will the world end? — those I have always left to the existentialists (if there are any remaining from the good old pot-smoking ‘60s). If there is another life after this one, it would be nice to finally be let in on their secrets.

There are, of course, the little puzzling things as well, such as:

> Who was the first person to think that lobsters might be edible?
> Who invented the apostrophe?
> Why do fingernails and toenails need to grow?
> Why do we need words like “cacoethes” and “zenzizenzizenzic”?
> Why is the one thing you need from the refrigerator always in the back?
> What was the world’s first joke, and who told it?
> Where does a smell go when it dissipates?

But nothing so esoteric is keeping me awake these nights, because the oppressive reality of all that is happening in today’s world keeps interfering with my musings about the next one.

Just as I think I’ve convinced myself that human nature can’t possibly sink any lower than its present state, someone, somewhere in the world, comes up with a way to prove me wrong. And these days, that someone is usually to be found in Washington (or, in this instance since it happened on a weekend, in Florida). So the big question haunting my sleepless nights has been:

“Why are there people like this in the world,
and why do we allow them to control us?”

As we all know, on Saturday, February 28, 2026, Donald Trump ordered a full-scale invasion of Iran. Don’t ask why he did it, what his ultimate goal might be, or for that matter whether he even knows what it is, because his answers to those questions change from minute to minute.

But what has kept me awake since Saturday is his nonchalant attitude when he announced that, on the first day of his new war, four U.S. service members had been killed, telling the nation and the world:

“And sadly, there will likely be more before it ends, that’s the way it is. Likely be more.” [Rex Huppke, USA Today, March 2, 2026.]

He actually said: “ . . . that’s the way it is.”

HOLY SHIT!!!

*. *. *

Remember this “Uncle Donald”? . . .

He loved his nephews, Huey, Dewey and Louie, and took good care of them, forever on the alert to keep them out of trouble.

But if you think this other, real-life “Uncle Donald” gives a flying fig about the American people whose welfare has been entrusted to him, and whom he took an oath of office to protect and defend, I’m sorry to inform you that you are as delusional as he is:

Because he doesn’t give a rat’s ass how many people — Americans or otherwise — die in furtherance of his mad obsession with power, wealth, and his so-called legacy. It’s all about him. Always has been, always will be.

And with people like him in control, the next life — or whatever comes after this one — has begun to look more appealing by the minute.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
3/4/26