Bingo in Smoking

Buddha and Gandhi lived it. The New Radicals, Michelle Branch and Michael Jackson believed it. Your mother said it:

You’ve been hit by, you’ve been struck by a smooth criminal.

But before that — when the campfire began and they’d all had fewer beers — they sang songs of karma, songs glorifying the concept that “what goes around comes around” and “you get what you give” and, in some special cases, “loving would be easy if your colors were like my dream.” Since the beginning of time (circa 1983) we have been singing, living, believing the ancient and romantic notion that people get what they deserve. After all, other than the promise of mallowcreme pumpkins at Halloween, there is little more optimistic in this life than truly believing that cheaters never prosper, that the hero gets the girl and that good will always conquer evil. Well, that and free parking.

But — just for kicks! — let’s pretend that we don’t live in a perfect world where everything is fair. Let’s imagine that the Olsen twins have a billion-dollar empire, that some drunken version of Paula Abdul is a judge on American Idol, that Three 6 Mafia (for the sake of all that is pimp) won an Academy Award. Let’s just make believe that there are people who drive in the passing lane without passing ANYTHING (including many molecules in the actual road). Picture a life with bills and deadlines and having to get up in the middle of very pleasant dreams involving Ben Foster and lots of bubbles to sit in traffic for upwards of 20 minutes and be late to work and then receive the frowning of a lifetime from your supervisor, who has the vocabulary and social savvy of refried beans. (Keep in mind, this is only an exercise. He or she actually has the general intelligence and look of refried beans. And the dreams may or may not involve someone other than Ben Foster.)

Okay. Now. Living in this world we realize a few things. Sometimes — dare I venture to say frequently? — people do not get their just desserts. Credit is not given where credit is due, and nice guys finish last. Conversely, your boss somehow got to be your boss despite possessing no discernible skills or talent or good haircut. How can this be? Why do bad things happen to good people, and why are the mediocre ones the only ones that seem to be breeding?

Pretty hopeless, eh? Fear not: there is hope.

Could it or could it not be argued that we’ve all done fairly crappy things in our lifetimes? Haven’t we cheated on tests without being caught and lied about where we were and, say, illegally rented a car to drive to Troy, Ohio? Of course we have. So we can use this karma thing to our advantage. In the immortal words of The Mr. T Experience, even Hitler had a girlfriend.

We all have distructive habits and unappealing personality flaws — even as the heroes of our own lives. It’s all about perception and timing. Despite those habits and flaws, karma or no karma, good things can still happen either by effort or by chance. You can get a promotion as a control-freak. You can get a relationship while ugly. And, with luck, you can get a bingo in smoking.