I really don't know and prefer not to think of it that way. I mean, I don't claim to have solved the mysteries of the universe or anything . Have you ever considered that all the blackness we see when we look into space is quite possibly the pupil of the eye of a scientist looking through a high power microscope at his experiment? Perhaps to this experimentor, we are the equivalent of a photon and, too, the experimentor is the equivalent of a photon in a much larger experimentor's experiment and so on.
You don't have to think about it for long to realize that it doesn't really matter one way or the other. Nor does it matter if the universe is spiteful. The fact of the matter is, if you are considering whether of not the universe is spiteful specifically when it comes to you, chances are you think you're a bit more important in the grand scheme of things than you really are. You were born into a system in which you will have to work your ass off for the little bit of "freedom" and money that you can get so whether or not it's a ginormous pupil of an other worldly scientist or just one big butthole that craps out solar systems, your reality is what you make of it, so why stress about it?
Consider this, last week I was minding my own business at the local pet store much like I usually do when all of a sudden a woman appeared – not like an apparition or anything, I was standing in the aisle staring contemplatively yet blankly at the oh-so-many options for canned cat food (for use as a treat, don't lecture me about feline nutrition and the ills of canned catfood, everything is poison) totally zoned out from looking at all of the different colors and such – and broke me out of my trancelike state by asking something clever like, "wow, dude, you look really stoned. Indica or sativa?" The classic Southern California icebreaker.
A dreaded-turned-welcomed conversation ensued. What could have just been a light small talk exchange about the great weather we're having or how one brand's tuna paté will give a cat the shits but not another developed into a philosophical discussion about choice, the freedom of choice, my body my choice, and whether or not there can be such a thing as too much choice, and if all things are made by the same company and rebranded, is there really any such thing as choice or is choice merely an illusion? If you support "My Body My Choice," can you support mandatory vaccinations in order to "save lives?" I mean, isn't that the goal of the anti-abortionists, to save lives? Will the liberal movement to mandate vaccines undo Roe v. Wade now that we have a conservative Supreme Court? Will my cat like the new improved taste of her favorite treat? We bonded. We even pulled out our smartphones and showed each other pictures of our pussy cats. Hers was a little on the fat side and has some issues with symmetry but was beautiful in a Charlie Brown Xmas tree kind of way while we both agreed my Maggie was beautiful in a god/goddess kind of way. OK, that was more me suggesting it but I could see it in her eyes that she was thinking it.
She did mention that she grows her own weed and if I would like to try it, she'd give me a sample after we left the store. Hmmm...she was a total stranger. She could have been a psychopath and laced it with something that could literally f*ck me up for days. This was all the persuasion I needed, I graciously accepted the offer. We met outside the store and she gifted me a joint. It smelled so good - not the slightest hint of PCP. I was looking forward to smoking it the next day.
Once I got home, I began to unpack the bags (as in more than one because my cat is spoiled). Then came a phone call. Somehow I thought I would be able to unpack catfood from a bag and put it on a shelf, talk on the phone, and find a safe spot to put my newly acquired fat daddy of a marijuana cigarette for later enjoyment all at the same time.
This was not to be the case.
While I do remember the gist of the phone call and did manage to get all of the food in its rightful place, I still have no recollection of where it was that I ultimately deemed the perfect safe place to put the joint so that I would remember it for later enjoyment. Was the universe being spiteful? Was it hidden from me in a deliberate act to save me from the dangerous effects that particular joint, like some unsolicited guidance or cosmic intervention? Was the universe actually hiding from me a joint that was laced with PCP because it didn't want me to trip my balls off for 3 days and experience spiritual enlightenment or cosmic knowledge? While I can see how one could delude themselves into thinking they were so special that out of the 7 billion people on the planet, the universe chose to focus on them when there are so many humans who are far more deserving of cosmic f*ckery, it all sounds so whack-a-doo. More than likely, I was stoned and distracted so misplaced it without the universe's involvement. The more pressing question is...will the universe help me find it? If it doesn't, is it the universe being spiteful?
Is there a moral to this story?
Yes, get a designated place to put your weed and always put it there. If you follow this strictly and one day your weed is missing, you will know that a spiteful universe was involved. Scream and throw rocks at it.
Also, there are more ways than yours to see a situation, take time to consider another perspective, and don't be a dick. My Body My Coice.
I suppose that beautifully rolled bad boy will turn up some day, or it won't.