The Sin of Sloth I

Sloth is the perfect combination of feeling immoral and wrong, but also being wholly, irresistibly pleasurable. Lying around like a sweaty sack of bacon-fat is outrageously fun, but when being slothful it is very difficult to avoid the feeling that somewhere, somehow, terrible things are happening because you can’t get off your ass and do something.

I often get the surreal feeling that Ethiopia is suffering more because I’m watching TV instead of going for a run. This makes about as much sense as the idea that by eating all of his veggies your son will somehow help the children in the world who are starving. But we all, in our own silly little ways, live under this misconception.

Here are a few things that we all do that make us feel like we’re being good samaritans, when really all we’re doing is neglecting to destroy our own bodies and minds with garbage.

1. Reading

Any second that I spend reading, instead of watching Youtube or writing senseless articles based loosely around sin, feels like charity. I can sense that by picking up a book I am forging a link between myself and the author and (vicariously) the world.

Helping people rocks!

By culturing myself, I am preparing myself... no, educating myself... so that when I go and fight for whatever cause I believe in, as a college student, I will be armed with an arsenal of facts, references, vocabulary, and pretension.

I will go out, screaming litanies of Victorian principles of thought, Greek philosophies, and amusing new-age romantic jargon, helping people to understand their place in life.

No wicked person, no matter how intelligent they may have been born, can outwit me, because DAMN IT, I READ A BOOK!

2. Preparing food by yourself

By not buying food ready-made, there are a hundred ways in which you are helping the world. According to the little man in the back of my head who lies to me, it takes half as many pigs to make the ham in a home-made sandwich that it does in a Subway sandwich. The crisco that I use on my frying pan to make pancakes is, I assume, organic, and many times greener than whatever factory-made tank spillage they use at, say, IHOP.

No animals are harmed in making food that I put together from the ingredients in my fridge, and best of all, because of the extra effort that I put into making, say, fried eggs, I burn off all the fat and calories before I even eat the food! No obesity for me, no guilt for American-kind.

I am furthering the cultural cuisine of my generation, rather than just copping-out at a fast-food place and allowing the tradition of “cooking” to die.

Today, I baked Pillsbury croissants. By opening the package of dough all by myself, I gave some menial worker somewhere a few seconds of rest. I earned my sweet buttery treat, as Pillsbury packaging is not exactly compliant unless you become a tornado of scissors and ripping, as I did.

3. Exercise

Exercise is great because it is such a flexible word. Of course, “exercise” can refer to going to the gym and sweating, but it also results from choosing to use the upstairs bathroom when you were in the kitchen jamming fistfuls of croissants into your idiotic maw.

By making these small yet significant decisions, I improve my personal image, and therefore the image of American citizens in general. In this way, I improve the U.S.’s foreign relations!

And so can you. It’s as easy as replacing one bath a month with a shower of equal length.

If you’re not like me, and you don’t take baths daily, then you’re already one step ahead!

4. Suffering in any way

This one may only apply to people who were fortunate enough to grow up comfortably nestled in the suburbs, as I did. For those of us who every day are made to consider how privileged we are not to be shacking up in a 7-11 bathroom, suffering is an important part of life. When I get a paper cut, I feel that I am somehow paying the universe back for the blessings into which I was born. When the dishwasher is out of commission and I have to get off my butt and do the dishes by hand, I’m evening the score between me and the world. Every time I have to teach a particularly disagreeable student, maybe an Ethiopian gets a bowl of rice.

"I'm so glad Peter got spat on by an 8 year old today."

I really wish these things were true. I wish it didn’t take effort to actually make the world a nicer place.