A STUDY A FEW YEARS BACK IN THE Journal of Paleolimnology suggests that instead of water, Jesus actually walked on an isolated patch of floating ice in the Sea of Galilee.
Paleolimnologists everywhere must have unscrewed bottles of sparking cider in celebration of the professor of oceanography at Florida State University who studied the geological core samples from 1,500-2,500 years ago that revealed the existence of protracted cold spells. At the same time, the professor himself dismissed insinuations from critics that he should feel guilty for potentially turning upside down one of the basic tenets of Christianity, saying, “If you need miracles to prop up your faith, then maybe your faith is weak to begin with.”
Still, whether Biblical, oceanographic or commonplace, aren’t some assumptions so sacred that divulging otherwise should be on a need-to-know basis only? Should the estimated 2.1 billion Christians across the globe be informed if DNA tests someday prove that Jesus was actually God’s nephew, not his son?
My mom used to take my sister and me each winter when we were growing up to the New York City Ballet’s production of “The Nutcracker” at Lincoln Center. Chills of excitement raced through my body every time the Nutcracker won his battle and became the Prince in the Land of Snow when his mask magically disappeared.
I was in college when my mom took me back to see “The Nutcracker” for the first time since I was little. However, instead of goose bumps, I got a headache. There were no tingles as I watched the male ballerina very un-magically toss his mask stage right. I never should have gone back. It was like a part of my childhood died at that moment.
And I never should have learned to surf the Web. That way, I never would have stumbled across the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. Inspired by the opening line,“It was a dark and stormy night,” from Edward George Bulwer-Lytton’s 1830 book, “Paul Clifford,” the annual literary competition challenges writers to compose the worst possible opening line for a novel.
Until I discovered the contest, I had been under the impression that “It was a dark and stormy night” was the first line of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven.” I was given that impression by my father, who, for years, repeated the line and quizzed me on its origin, which he always said was “The Raven.”
When I called my dad with the facts after quadruple-checking the line’s origin, he replied simply with, “Huh. How about that.” To be fair, I suppose there’s never a good way or time to realize that your parents don’t know everything. For the record, though, my mom actually does know everything. Just ask her.
Wouldn’t Dorothy have slept better at night if she hadn’t found out that the Wizard, the guy rumored to be the only one bright enough to figure out how to get her home, was actually an average Joe not quite bright enough to cower behind a floor-length curtain that at least hid his legs? Imagine how many Prozac prescriptions the pharmacist in Oz had to fill once word spread that the city’s mighty and powerful deity was a fraud.
The Fox network once aired some specials,“Breaking the Magicians’ Code: Magic’s Biggest Secrets Finally Revealed.” Aren’t magic shows immensely enjoyable? Did anyone really want some creepy masked man on Fox spoiling all of those cool illusions? Ever wonder about the folks who watched those Fox specials and then ran down to their basements afterwards to try and saw in half women wearing hideously sequined costumes? Ever wonder what else those people do in their basements?
There’s no un-ringing the bell once the cat’s out of the bag. “The Simpsons” was essentially ruined for me once I found out the guy who does Bart’s voice is a woman. I definitely never wanted to know that Dick Cheney prefers Diet Sprite. I’ll forever associate Wendy’s chili with fingertips ever since someone (falsely) claimed to find one in a meal. Blue dresses everywhere probably would have preferred if Monica Lewinsky had just thrown hers away (or at least brought it to the dry cleaner) so we all could have been spared from thinking of private presidential matters every time we see a similarly colored frock. And just imagine the panic that would ensue if the American Medical Association ever formally announced chicken soup doesn’t cure the cold that isn’t contracted by leaving the house with wet hair.
Other than the Santa Claus, Easter Bunny and Tooth Fairy myths, there’s nothing anyone should assume that everyone knows, or needs to know.
Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on August 7, 2008. Read the original PDF.