After Adam and Eve got evicted from the Garden of Eden, presumably for being lousy tenants — from a rent-free property, mind you — they proceeded to sire a dysfunctional family.
Sacrilegious for me to say, you say?
Well, all humanity is a dysfunctional family. Argue with that. A wise man once said, “You cannot choose your ancestors. Chances are, they would not have chosen you either.”
I learned that one from television. Thank you, Mister Television.
In discussing those earliest relatives of ours, yours and mine, I have no doubt that Adam and Eve tried their very best to raise upstanding offspring. And, remarkably, they did so without recourse to that most convenient of human excuses: blaming your parents. After all, that’s why we have parents — your very own role models for everything you ought to do and not do. Embodied in just two people. Imagine the odds.
But Adam and Eve had no parents. And no role models other than the voice of you-know-WHO. Plus that smooth-talking snake.
So, just how dysfunctional was that first generation sired by Adam and Eve? Consider that their first son, Cain, murdered their other son, Abel. Biblical scripture implies that Cain was a vegetarian. I guess that made him a humanitarian.
At this point, I can just imagine someone exclaiming, “Well, maybe Cain did murder Abel — but, hey, boys will be boys! Surely the girls turned out fine. After all, girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice!”
Yeah, plus figs and pomegranates.
Alas, not all girls remain little angels. Ever heard of the world’s oldest profession? So tell me, who was the world’s first prostitute? Maybe Eve? One of her daughters? One of her descendants? Nobody knows. But apparently, sometime very early in human history, some mother’s daughter levied a hefty price upon hanky-panky.
Or maybe, just maybe, that corporate merger of frolicking and finance was the bright idea of some guy. Some very frustrated guy.
“Hey, Lilith, how about a quick romp in the cave? I’ll give you a penny!”
“A penny? A penny? Cain, what on earth is a penny?”
“A penny, Lilith, is a unit of monetary exchange. Money is a form of credit used to facilitate the transaction of goods and services.”
“Oh really? Thank you for being perspicaciously perspicuous. You should be an economist.”
“Thank you, Lilith. What’s an economist?”
“Just keep babbling, Cain. And on that cave wall over there, draw a few line diagrams that nobody understands. Someday somebody will call it art, anthropology, or economics. Anyway, Cain, if I understand you correctly, you want me to service you — for a penny? Why should I service you for a tiny piece of brown metal?”
“Because you like me—? No? Maybe a little bit?”
“Guess again.”
“Because you’re pulchritudinous?”
“Cain, calling me the p-word for beautiful doesn’t impress me. Nor does the question mark afterwards. Just tell me why you think a penny should satisfy me.”
“Alright, Lilith. Well, with a penny, you can buy quite a lot. Remember, we live at the dawn of Creation. No inflation! Not yet, anyway.”
“Cain, I’m not a real estate developer. Why would I want to buy a lot?”
“No, Lilith, you can buy a lot of stuff! Not a vacant lot!”
“Uh huh. Now I think you’re trying to bribe me.”
“Not bribe you, Lilith! I’m trying to solicit your sexual services while coldly avoiding any emotional commitment. Don’t you want to make some money?”
“By selling my body? Frankly, Cain, you should pay me for putting up with your bad habits!”
“My bad habits? What do you mean, my bad habits? Lilith, I don’t have any bad habits. In fact, I don’t have any habits at all. It’s the dawn of Creation! Too little time has passed for me to develop any habits.”
“What? Cain, are you kidding me? You murdered your brother!”
“Once, Lilith! I murdered my brother once! Only once! You call that a habit? I mean it, Lilith! I don’t have any habits!”
“I bet you don’t have any pennies either.”
“Well, that’s true. Drat. I guess that means no romp in the cave.”
“I knew it! Just as I thought! Cain, you’re not just a murderer, you’re a habitual liar! I rest my case!”
“You rest your case? Lilith, are you — a lawyer? I don’t understand. Prostitution is the world’s oldest profession. Lilith, how can you be the world’s first lawyer before you become the world’s first prostitute?”
“Because, Cain, you naïve and utterly penniless twerp, who said the two were different?”
Well, insofar as prostitution is the world’s oldest profession, guess which profession is the world’s second oldest? (No, not lawyers. Good guess, though.) According to most spies considered to be “in the know,” the world’s second oldest profession is — surprise! — espionage.
Yes, spying upon one’s lover has a long and sordid history.
Then there emerged the world’s third oldest profession: politics.
The three have been in bed together ever since.
But which one is dominant?
Whatever your answer, you’re right.
Respectfully (because all my readers deserve respect),
Reginald Dipwipple
Secret Agent Extraordinaire