Notes from the small pond: Pondering the genesis of evil can leave one 'awake'

Awake. Verb, intransitive verb. (A person can “awake,” as in Wake Up [verb], or a person can be awake, as in: “I’m awake [intransitive], so turn off the alarm.” These states are mutually exclusive, albeit infinitesimally.)

I spent last week in California. Again.

Oakland isn’t San Francisco the way earth isn’t topsoil. One needs both, of course, to plant a vineyard or attract tourists or foundationalize the Raiders (When the levee breaks …). Or the A’s. Or the Giants or 49ers, Warriors, etc. — you get the point, conspicuously not mentioning Alcatraz and the million humans that visit the place each year to marvel at the brilliant Sadism engineered into the inescapable design and the frailty of the brilliance engineered into the engineering. Evil escapes, then dies and escapes again — the essence of evil, while the essence of Good overcomes, however messy; Hope, all the while, tipping the balance.

Just ask Mr. Morris. The Anglin brothers. Exemplars, famous in the long, long line of those proving the point that, usually, poor starts lead to poor finishes, the betwixt of which ignored, unmentioned or intentionally squashed in support of the narrative that the nature of evil, addiction, sickness, fear and weakness just is, not caused. Borne, not learned. If the latter is true, the blame must be shared. Who the hell wants that? Evil folk just are. Right? Not made. Right? Because if evil is made, and evil folk, too, then who the hell made it/them? And Damn whomever that was. … Literally.

Meet: The Devil. He who comes to kill and deceive and steal. No coincidence that common versions of Satan indicate goat-like anthropomorphisms. Scapegoat: “Toss that diseased goat off the scape of the cliff to save the others — some god or other must be pissed! Maybe he likes goat meat! Let’s try that! (And let’s hope whoever he is doesn’t notice the mange and the gimpy leg … Shhhhh … He’s listening .…)

There’s a person out there, below or above the sod, that actually knew the Morris and Anglin boys when they were kids. By the time all three were in their early teens, they were robbing stores, burglarizing houses and holding up banks. By the time they were in their twenties, they were genuine escape artists. And, every now and then, mean as heck.

Before that, though, they were tiny, dirty babies, with soggy diapers and starving for milk, warmth and love. Sorta like the babes on Instagram we see with their naked moms in their opulent bathtubs, organically scented bubbles just barely covering — if even — the fatty-eyelashed moms and their collective ample bosom, the pic — let’s be real — 100% about The Mom, the babe a mere foil for the staging — OMG: I LOVE my baby [or insert: Beemer, Jeep, Wedding Ring, Best Friends, Vacation Pic, Hamburger Pic, Parents — OMG Dad, Really?? … even more than Kim Kardashian loves North; he’s in a movie now, right?] ….

Until he robs a bank. Becomes addicted. Accidentally runs over a toddler. Shoots up a middle school. Ignites a wildfire.

Throw that diseased goat off that cliff-scape. God must be hungry for something. Where’s all this evil coming from?

Meanwhile, when I think of it, if I were trying to escape from a cage and someone tried to stop me, I’d probably be mean as a stabbed rat myself, regardless of what got me in the cage to begin with. Alcatraz me.

I’m evil that way.

So are you.

Parnell Thill is a Cloquet-based author and marketing executive. Winner of a Minnesota Newspaper Association Better Newspaper Contest “Columnist of the Year” award in 2017, his book “Killing the Devil and Other Excellent Tricks” is available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble and at killingthedevil.com.