Mark 10:25 is a biblical verse in which Christ states that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than a rich man to enter Heaven. This was a bit disheartening to hear, seeing as I plan to become wildly wealthy as soon as possible through whatever means necessary. In the past, I planned to become Pope and once tried to build a tower to Heaven itself to talk with God (do you know how long it took to unlearn Greek?), but neither plan was sure to save my mortal soul. Now though, for real, I’ve really got it this time. Obviously, I need to breed pygmy camels so tiny that they can easily pass through a needle’s eye, therefore proving Jesus wrong and securing my ticket into paradise.
As you know, the gestation period of the average Camelus Bactrianus is about 400 days long. I figure I’ve got about 50 decent years left, so just picking the runts of the litter and breeding them together would never work in time, no way. I’ve got to act like the oldest pre-teen at his Sunday School Christmas Pageant and play God.
Humanity has made wild progress with genetic engineering. If I can find a scientist who skipped ethics class, we could team up to alter just enough genetics to reduce the size of a camel by about 99.99%. It might be difficult for the lil’ hump to perform basic functions like breathing or walking, so we’ll also need an engineer capable of designing some sort of apparatus to promote survival. Camels are also notoriously difficult to train, based on absolutely nothing, so I’ll also need to get a pet trainer who specializes in small mammals.
With this ragtag band of sinners, I’ll have all the tools I’ll need to thread a camel through the eye of a needle. Easy peasy.
Once I successfully engineer a tiny camel, the plan won’t stop there. The problem with ensuring that the rich can enter Heaven is that if I’m not rich, I’m still liable to burn in Hell. With a tiny of tiny camels and a pet trainer who’s already in too deep, we could train the camels as a touring group. A tiny circus with a fleet of miniature camels to dazzle the nation. It’s more impressive than a flea circus because you can see them, and less terrifying than a real circus (though still filled with freaks of nature).
When I’m deeply old and withered, only left with nostalgic regrets, I want to have a life with a few stand-out moments I can be proud of.
People I’ve helped.
Things I’ve achieved.
Most of all… a beautiful fleet of pygmy camels to prove the Holy Father wrong.
My Fifty Year Plan (Suffer The Camels, Come Unto Me).
Praise be! Follow @JeffShutUp on Twitter to follow along with my progress on the camels.
Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann on Unsplash.
Misfit Mementos 