Today was weird. I walked into this building, right, and they first made me sign something. So far, pretty normal. But then a person in blue came and took me into another room. First, the person made me stand on something, and a bunch of numbers came up. Then, the person in blue put a black thing around my arm and pumped a balloon that was attached to it with a hose. And the black thing inflated like a balloon, squeezing my arm. And the person just acted like it was all routine. Weird, right?

But that was only the beginning.

After waiting around for who knows how long, a guy in white came in. At first, he started talking to me like he was my friend. Asked me about my year in Jerusalem and my life plans. I started to relax. Maybe the weirdness was over.

Boy, was I wrong.

First he poked. Then he prodded. Then he karate-chopped my knees. He told me to breathe in. Breathe out. Lay down. Sit up. Stand up. Dance the polka.

Then he asked me to do some things I'm pretty ashamed of. I'd rather not share. Let's just say I'm still pretty traumatized by it all.

After the craziness was all done, he sent me downstairs. I thought my ordeal was over. But, no. Turns out, what happens upstairs is nothing compared to the circus of horrors downstairs.

As I walked naively into the room, I found a sweet-looking lady waiting for me with a big needle in her hand. "This won't hurt a bit," she said. And I trusted her. Big mistake.

Next thing I know, she is sticking a piece of metal into my arm. Turns out, it hurt a bit. I watched as my blood shot from the needle into a container. What was going on?! I thought we were friends!

As she wiped up the horrible mess she created, she gave me a smile and said, "I'm all done. Have a nice day." Yeah, thanks a lot, lady.

As I walked out, the receptionist looked up from a desk and asked me if I would like to set another appointment. I looked at her as if she's nuts.

After returning home, I did some research. Do you know these so-called "health centers" exist all over the country? That the president actually wants to expand the coverage of these places to cover everyone in the United States? I can see why people have been screaming so much at those town hall meetings.

The worst part, though, was that everyone thought it was all normal. The person in blue didn't think it was weird to deflate a balloon so that another balloon would inflate around my arm. The man in white had no problem poking, prodding, and doing many other unmentionable things. And that lady downstairs, the professional torturer with needles, she actually acted like this was for my own good! Sick, man. Straight up sick.

And apparently everyone actually wants to go to these places. Sure, there are some people, bless their hearts, that want to keep those other folks out, but everyone wants to get in. Has the whole world gone mad?

The answer, of course, is that the whole world is mad. We walk around like everything is normal, but it's really, really not. We just get used to the insanity. We convince ourselves we live in a world of normality.

We'll be hot and jump into a cold pool and freeze, but in a few minutes, cold is normal. We'll go into a doctor's office shocked one day and find it normal the next. We'll come into the world screaming and kicking, and in no time flat, can't imagine a world where we don't exist.

Well, I think I have to go, friends. The more I talk about this, the more these guys in white coats are telling me I need to go to a place they call a "mental hospital."

Weirdos.

Postscript:

Well, I did some more research. Guess I jumped the gun a bit. Apparently "doctor's offices" save people's lives. You go there to check if you're healthy, or to get a pill to make you feel better, or to find out if you're allergic to peanuts. Who would've known, right?

So, I take back some of what I said. I mean... maybe it's understandable that everyone wants to go there. I get it. I think.

But I'm sticking with one thing. It's weird. I don't care what the guys in white tell me.

I figured something out, though, from all this turmoil and pain. You know why anything makes sense, really? Because it has a purpose. The "because" of something. A "because" is what turns this physical stuff into something more. Something deeper.

Example: I go to the doctor's office because I prefer not to die.

Get it?

A because is what gets us through our day. It's why we go to a job we might hate (for our children). It's why we run 26.2 miles (because we want to push ourselves beyond our limits). It's why we throw ourselves off airplanes (for the sheer fun of it).

A because gives this senseless world a soul. A because is the umbilical cord from somethingness to nothingness. Without a because, we are empty, hollow shells. We are reality shows and celebrity gossip.

But just one "because" is hardly scratching the surface. Because each because has its own because. Each because leads to a truer and deeper because.

Example: I go to the doctor's office because I prefer not to die because I like life because life is glorious and beautiful and incredible because... etc.

Get it?

And as we climb up the rungs of the ladder of becauses, we start to reach the area where all the becauses converge. Where a because is no longer some verbal equation that we can say in our heads but a reality we experience.

It's when we touch the Ultimate Because (also known as G‑d) that we reach a point where we understand why the sky is blue and why bugs are plentiful and why terrorists run around the world like it's their playground. It's when we talk to G‑d that the Because of Life is simpler than any doctor's appointment.

It's to make the sky shine its true colors. To stop wasting our time poking and prodding. To realize that all those terrorists were just figments of G‑d's imagination. To look at each bug and see why he exists right there in his beautiful exoskeleton.

In short, to make the world normal again.