CHAPTER

FOUR

THE TEN COMMANDMENTS REMIX

Because It’s the Twenty-first Century Already, Come On

Big Number One: Thou shalt have no other gods before God. Whether that’s God, Jesus, Jehovah, Allah, Yahweh, Elohim, Hu, Ishvara, Nirankar, Shiva . . . whatever spiritual being in your life you pray to.

That means your cellulite-free thighs aren’t your god. Network ratings aren’t your god, a fixed mortgage rate isn’t your god. Your stock portfolio isn’t your god, or your stylist, or your brand-new phone. None of those stupid material things are your god. Clear? Great. Moving on.

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Number Two: Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of anything that is in Heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth.

See number one: no other gods before the God. So don’t make a statue of whatever you’re worshipping instead of your god. The earth is cluttered enough.

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Number Three: Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.

Don’t throw around the big guy’s name like it’s meaningless. It’s the opposite of meaningless. It’s full of meaning! Look, I get it: we live(d) in a world where third graders drop f-bombs. I know you’re gonna do it. You know you’re gonna do it. I blasphemed eight times before lunch. Just . . . try not to. Or at least cut back. It’s not unreasonable to show a little respect to your creator.

(I dunno, I get that God says these sins are all equally awful, but I’m having trouble punishing the guy who lived a good life but shrieked “Jesus Christ!” when his daughter came home with four piercings, with the same intensity as the serial killer who slashed his way through an Atlantic City Laundromat.)

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Number Four: Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.

God rested on the seventh day, and so should you. What, resting’s good enough for God but you’re above it? Your compost won’t mulch itself? (That’s what you do with compost, right? Mulch it?) There will never be a better time to micromanage your children as they clean their rooms? Ah . . . no. This commandment is like your mom’s nap-time rules: you might not feel tired, but you are. So just rest already and when you get up you can have cookies.

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Number Five: Honor thy father and thy mother.

Hey, they made you! And most of the time, after making you they took care of you: they put a roof over your helpless, diaper-soiling head and fed you and basically gave up a huge chunk of their lives for you (what, you thought they loved The Lego Movie as much as you did? they didn’t; that movie sucked), and the least you can do is not be a shit about it. (All right, the least you can do is nothing.) Yes, they’re annoying. Yes, they can’t quite get the hang of seeing you as an adult even if you’re wearing bifocals. But come on. They made you.

And some parents are utter shits. They just are. My friend Jessica’s, for example; her dad molested her and her mom knew and didn’t care. So “honor thy father and thy mother” is getting a somewhat looser interpretation in cases like that: don’t kill ’em. No matter how much you dream about it. No matter how much you’re sure they’ve got it coming. You think it’ll fix things? It’ll make your life better? It won’t. So. Come on. They made you.

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Number Six: Thou shalt not kill.

Really a no-brainer on this one. There are aggravating people in the world. (Me, for example.) There are terrible asshats in the world. (Sometimes also me.) That has always been true. There are people so depraved and violent and dangerous that the world is actually better once they’re dead. But don’t kill them. Not your call.

(Murder disclaimers: Self-defense is fine. War is sometimes fine. Protecting loved ones is fine. A situation that encompasses all three is fine. In this case, “fine” means, okay, it was wrong, but let’s take a look at the extenuating circumstances and see if we can cut you a break. Welcome to a kinder, gentler Hell!)

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Number Seven: Thou shalt not commit adultery.

C’mon, it’s not asking too much to expect you to keep it in your pants. You’re married; that means you’ve acknowledged that you caught your limit. You promised each other and the priest or minister or judge or aunt who was ordained by the Internet that you wouldn’t bang anyone else. So: don’t bang anyone else. Easy. (Rather: don’t be easy.) If you need it? If your life will be over if you don’t fuck that particular person? Get a divorce. Then bang away, baby.

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Number Eight: Thou shalt not steal.

Another no-brainer. That shit doesn’t belong to you. Leave it alone. There’s really no explaining to be done here, no loopholes. Murdering a serial killer is one thing, but stealing your neighbor’s newspaper is something else. Plus, what were you thinking? You can read it on the Internet for free!

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Number Nine: Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.

Don’t lie about him or her. Don’t make up crap to get them in trouble. Yeah, they only mow their giant lawn about once a month. And their dog is constantly escaping just long enough to leave a major dump on your lawn. They call the cops every time you have a party, not because of the noise, but because they’re pissed you didn’t invite them. All those dead cars parked on the lawn they never mow are bringing down the value of your home. And you know they’re the ones who fill up your recycling bins with their old newspapers.

Irrelevant. For whatever reason, that’s your home. You have to take the good (the ice cream truck always starts on your block!) with the bad (the ice cream truck runs late because it has to avoid hitting the neighbor’s dog). Suck it up, buttercup.

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Number Ten: Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor anything that is thy neighbor’s.

C’mon, this isn’t the seventies and you’re not throwing a key party. Don’t be coveting: not his/her spouse, ox, or butt. Sometimes it’s hard not to be jealous, especially when your neighbors have the bad taste to flaunt their good fortune: “Gosh, don’t you think everyone should be driving electric cars? If people really cared about the environment, they’d find the money somehow.” Yeah, yeah, go plug yourself, you smug jerk.

Just . . . try to cut them a little slack. Remember, fifty thousand years ago if you didn’t play nicely with your neighbors, death came a lot quicker. These days it’s not death you have to worry about so much as intense annoyance. But you never know when you’ll need them. So be nice. Or at least don’t be terrible.

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Addendum:

“And on the eighth day the Lord said, ‘Ye have done well in mine eyes; go ye forth to all the malls of the land and shoe you well with the shoes of designers. And avoid ye knockoffs, for if ye adorn thyself with such thou shalt know naught but blisters.’”

Yeah, I know: uproar. Can’t blame a gal for trying.