I have (several times) tried to find the source for the well traveled but dismal quote; “Life’s a bitch and then you die.” Surprisingly, if you can believe the internet, this grim revelation first came into print in the Washington Post in 1982. I would have thought its trail would lead far back to someone famous like King Solomon’s “Vanity” sidebar in the Old Testament. The wisest man alive was lamenting his fate. He realized that his lifetime was finite, it was running out and he couldn’t escape his own mortality. Compounding that insult, someone else who was both unworthy and inferior would by one means or another acquire his power, possessions and wealth. He thought that just wasn’t fair but to that outcome he was powerless. He concludes that the only earthly good that one can look forward to is to eat and drink well and take comfort in the time we have.
Solomon was King; he could have anything he wanted. The, “Life’s a bitch" analogy would spring from the low end of the socioeconomic ladder. Foregoing the gender disrespect associated with its origin it would certainly allude to a set of circumstances that are unreasonable, malicious and unforgiving. Only after you've suffered that misfortune, then you die. I draw from it the idea that in the end, death may be preferable as one would no longer suffer the slings & arrows of this life. Edna St. Vincent Millay, a wonderful American poet from the early 20th century took creative license with the similar misgiving; “Life is just one damn thing after another.” Her view was altered slightly. She said, “Life is the same damn thing again and again and again.” Her angst was channeled in a narrow vein rather than a broad sweep.
I would think by now the slang rendition is more of a general consensus that ‘Times are hard.’ I was born to a time when my country was emerging from the Great Depression and then the Great War. Times were hard but getting better. America was the only major participant in the war that did not have to rebuild cities, infrastructure and begin a new economy from scratch. In all those years my family never missed a meal nor had to sleep in a borrowed bed. Still, I identified with ‘Los Pobres’ - The Poor; and I still do. The times have changed but the poor are still poor. One can look away and not see them, as if they do not exist at all. One can blame them, as if they chose their station in life but I know better. Anybody can, with good judgment, perseverance and a sufficient share of good luck, rise above their limitations; but not every everybody. There are only so many seats at the table and they conform with few exceptions to a well established pecking order. If nobody saved a chair for you it won't matter how smart or hard you work.
Solomon was King; he could have anything he wanted. The, “Life’s a bitch" analogy would spring from the low end of the socioeconomic ladder. Foregoing the gender disrespect associated with its origin it would certainly allude to a set of circumstances that are unreasonable, malicious and unforgiving. Only after you've suffered that misfortune, then you die. I draw from it the idea that in the end, death may be preferable as one would no longer suffer the slings & arrows of this life. Edna St. Vincent Millay, a wonderful American poet from the early 20th century took creative license with the similar misgiving; “Life is just one damn thing after another.” Her view was altered slightly. She said, “Life is the same damn thing again and again and again.” Her angst was channeled in a narrow vein rather than a broad sweep.
I would think by now the slang rendition is more of a general consensus that ‘Times are hard.’ I was born to a time when my country was emerging from the Great Depression and then the Great War. Times were hard but getting better. America was the only major participant in the war that did not have to rebuild cities, infrastructure and begin a new economy from scratch. In all those years my family never missed a meal nor had to sleep in a borrowed bed. Still, I identified with ‘Los Pobres’ - The Poor; and I still do. The times have changed but the poor are still poor. One can look away and not see them, as if they do not exist at all. One can blame them, as if they chose their station in life but I know better. Anybody can, with good judgment, perseverance and a sufficient share of good luck, rise above their limitations; but not every everybody. There are only so many seats at the table and they conform with few exceptions to a well established pecking order. If nobody saved a chair for you it won't matter how smart or hard you work.
My parents would rather go hungry than accept charity but they would drive across town and spend their last dollar on food for strangers whose only crime was being born low, in a bad place, in the wrong year. I have no Silver Spoon pedigree but we had common spoons to go around. When I fell down someone helped me up and let me back in line. My family was high enough in the pecking order for me to get a second chance, and a third, and a forth. The most important decision one can make in their lifetime is picking their parents. I chose very well and their message hasn’t changed: “Do unto others. . .” This life will do with you whatever it will and when it’s done, then you can die.
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