In the beginning, when Adam was first created, he spent whole days rubbing his face in the grass. He picked his ear until it bled. Tried to fit his fist in his mouth. And yanked out tufts of his own hair. At one point, he tried to pinch his own eyes out in order to examine them. And God had to step in.
Looking down at Adam, God must have felt a bit weird about the whole thing. It must have been something like eating at a cafeteria table all by yourself, when a stranger suddenly sits down opposite you. But it's a stranger who you have created. And he is eating a macaroni salad that you've also created. And you have been sitting at the table all by yourself for over 100 billion years. And yet still, you have nothing to talk about.
It was pitiful the way Adam looked up into the sky and squinted. Before he created Adam, God must have been lonely. Now he was still lonely. And so was Adam.
—Excerpt from Jonathan Goldstein, “233: Starting From Scratch Act Three: The First Starting From Scratch” This American Life, 41:59- 57:00
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