There are endless variations on this old joke. A guy walks into a bar, takes out his glass eyeball and puts it on the counter to the bewilderment of the barkeep. Or he drops it in somebody’s shot glass, some cockamamie yarn to that effect. Maybe it’s a woman who walks into a bar with a hare-lip, and the bartender has a wooden eye. This is a joke of another variety. God’s glass eyeball. At times funny, but mostly there’s nothing humorous about it. First, you wouldn’t have to believe in any god, and second, that this god takes a human form and happens to have a glass eyeball.
God walks into a bar and sits down next to the devil. The devil inquires, “How’s it hanging?” God replies, “I can’t complain. How’s business going?” The devil says, “Business is brisk, but you keep stealing souls away from hell.” God laughs and says, “Yeah, you can’t win them all.” Satan then asks God if he sees any eternally damned souls, to send them his way. God chuckles and pops out his glass eyeball, dropping it into the devil's shot glass, saying, “I’ll keep an eye out for you.”
Absurd exercises in futility, but not funny, just comically inclined. God is the King of situation comedy in the way the faithful blindly flock to the promise of eternal life in heaven. Even with one eye, God sees everything from the nothingness from whence he came. The all-knowing, all-powerful, all-seeing eye in the sky. I’m not even going to get into his son, Jesus, and the dichotomy between him, Satan, and a drunken Santa Claus. A duck walks into a tavern, a horse trots into a saloon. A priest, a rabbi, and a Muslim walk into a bar infinitely. Forever’s a long time.
The divine providence of the power and the glory trip. If you blink, you’ll miss it. The discovery of an Assyrian clay tablet dating to around 2800 B.C. bears the inscription: “Our Earth is degenerate in these later days; there are signs that the world is speedily coming to an end; bribery and corruption are common; children no longer obey their parents; every man wants to write a book and the end of the world is evidently approaching.”
Today's headlines echo similar news. Gazing into a crystal ball at the vast infinity to the center of the celestial firmament. Astronomers spot the biggest galaxy ever discovered. Yet can’t see right in front on their faces.
The sheer scale will make your brain explode like the original Big Bang and the fallout astronomically breaks the simulated birth of the internet. Scrolling through the merry days. As viewed through the massive telescope of god's glass eyeball, high atop the matrix observatory of your cranial cavity. A World Wide Web spreading its ethereal threads across god's glass eyeball. Deep inside the darkest black hole ever conceived by the likes of puny human brains such as these sad specimens over here, on permanent display from a dying species known only as biped Homo sapiens of the modern apocalypse reality series.
Out of the gaping maw of the cosmological eye in the sphincters center, sleepily yawning into the voids of vast space, aliens with big eyes, without a face and flying monkeys pass gas in a vain cosmetic attempt at narcissism. Directly behind god's glass eyeball, floating in a mirror of bones. It only costs a plug nickel to gaze into the world's largest microscope at a microscopic speck of stardust revealing the smile at the miscarriage of humanity’s sideshow specimens.
The ancient origins of ocular prosthesis began with Roman, Egyptian, even Abyssinian-created horse blinker, Wedjat Eye, a bas-relief sculpted from clay, most likely painted to match the other real eye. The fake eye held in place over the blind empty socket by flesh-colored ribbon. The glass eye debuted in the late-16th century by the Venetians. It was later perfected by the French and eventually mass-produced by the Germans. But that all-seeing third eye always existed, since the first time god opened his glass eyeball and saw everything and nothing.
A Möbius strip club of naked repetition. Dancing snakes devouring themselves in a blink and a nod. Where an eye for an eye is the standard rule of thumb, poked in god's glass eye. And you shall know them by the cut of their jib. The way they walk the truth around like a parade of churchy snobs. Perhaps becoming the bane of existence under false pretense. They go by many monikers in the underworld. The fruit of their labors or their filthy fruit of the looms. Airing dirty laundry in the public eye. The fruit of your loins walks into a bar. In some future, long distant past. Don’t you see? You can’t win a staring contest with god's glass eyeball.