I made a brief call to Ned, for I had some questions, the answers to which only an interdimensional peanut could resolve. And those answers, quixotically answered as they were, will remain until another day. What I will relay now is that he was mildly impressed with my interpretation of Jimothy and the Dirty Denizens of Eden. As a parabolic parable, it is instrinsically brilliant and touches on precisely the core idea of this New Thesis that harbinges the Imperative Age. But I don’t think it’s usually seen that way, as it is rife with surface paradoxes and absurdity. To explain!

It is probably worth a disclamatory remark: I was raised in Western Catholic tradition, so there may be semantic variations abound. But ultimately, the central conclusion will remain valid.

So what’s knowledge? It certainly seems clear that the Edenic tree’s fruit did never claim to impart wisdom. How so? Well, first off, there is no indication that were some sentinel, no commissioner of Good that sent out a God-signal that Brute Swain could see from his God-cave. So even the “Omniscient” only knew of their sin through direct observation, one of those traits so highly praised in Adam, as he was able to discern the difference between animals and objects and so “name” them (good honest work, if you can get it!). It was only upon the first weekly meeting with God that Adam and Eve could not possibly get over their need to hide the shame and guilt of their sin and their nakedness.

Now this is somewhat two-fold odd to me. As above, Adam’s primary innate talent, recognized by God, was just that – one of recognition. By all accounts, consistent with the narrative that nakedness is “evil,” Jimothy Himself is always presented wandering about in a toga (I guess he hasn’t invented trousers yet), yea even in Michaelangelo’s cricked neck. So Adam, so rich with capacity to differentiate, would recognize in God his own form (also confirmed), but equally he would notice a covering, a shielding, that kept the majority of skin hidden from the view. He would have to be able, having named animals, and thus naming “fur,” that humans and serpents were remarkably unique in that they their epidermis was sleek and unlike any other creature. Knowing Jimothy as good, at least that’s what we assume they were told, shielding oneself must also be “good” or “wise.” It is quite conceivable that Adam, being Adam-a not Adumb, would, on his own accord, seek to emulate God, and pursue some facsimile of shielding, even if he weren’t yet able to loom tailored cloth (he’s good, but not THAT good).
Had the tree imparted wisdom, /in addition to sin (it was really nothing more than the Tree of Sin at the end of the bite)/, Adam would have been capable of at least pursuing self-preservation in light of God’s observation. Like a true human child would.

“Why are you covering your nakedness?!”
—Um, because I noticed YOU weren’t naked, Jimothy, so I wanted to give it a whirl. Good times.
“Hmm… So you did /not/ eat from the Tree of Knowledge?”
—Uh, no. What makes you think so?
“Well, in addition to your shame, I’d say because there is one less fruit on the tree than there was the last time I saw you naked.” (Hubba-hubba!)
—I have observed that there are many animals which have the ability to eat from the Tree. Deer, Giraffes for sure, and even the serpent I’ve seen up there.
“A-ha! It was you that ate of the Tree – you don’t see any other animals around here newly covering up their nakedness, do you?!”
—Fuck.

Whether or not Adam gives up his fibbery right then or soon after, he’d still revert to what he did: freak out and blame Eve, who would in turn blame the serpent, who would laugh hysterically.

Now, admittedly, if it were the Tree of Good and Evil and not Wisdom, Adam would still be compelled to not lie, as that is also a sin, and would fess up immediately (I guess it’s true our children are innately cursed with Original Sin), obviating the need for self-preservation, which is ultimately quite ANTI-human.

But we still fall, not just from the Garden of Unearthly Delights, but onto the idea that would have made Dawkins an incredible Religious Theorist.

This parable, this Parabola, one arc of human drama that is currently ending, rests firmly on the brilliant plot twist where we learn that it was humanity all along. That God did not create us in his image, but vice versa. That there was no God, there was only a mirror, or placid lake on whose banks Narcissus preens. There truly was a moment when we remarked and ate of the Tree of Knolwedge /and/ wisdom, where, in that reflection, we were affronted by our nakedness, and were ashamed. We were ashamed of our /vulnerability/. This bare vulnerability threatened our survival. From blister to briars to beasts, furless, featherless and scaleless with only scurrilous skin between us and the weighty thrust of matter, we needed to shield ourselves. To armor ourselves, cloak ourselves in mutable camouflage. To recognize that Dawkins’ cell that shielded itself with proteins was the most likely to survive, and its genetic material held greater sway so long as it was able to reproduce. So we, too, separated the acts of survival, procreation and defensibility.

That is the lesson of the Tree of Knowledge, and it was Good, and we learned it well. Again, excellent fucking work, humans (for real, no sarcasm—I mean it!), even if you had to protect that knowledge in the hoax of myth and couldn’t directly accept its true origin.