When the hood was popped up, I stood there for a bit, beyond the reach of his eyes, wondering about preeminent metanarratives like religion and science, and how they attempted to explain the human condition by answering existential questions about the nature of life and death. Of course, Curious George would have been disappointed at science’s inability to explain how atoms came into existence. He would have also been disappointed at religion’s inability to explain how god came into existence. Perhaps Bobby Henderson was akin to a disappointed Curious George, when he saw the colander on the wall in his mother’s kitchen. It was a wonderfully strange looking device, and when he was tall enough, he regularly removed it from its hook and put it on his head. By and by he became an arch teenager who derived pleasure from satire and humorous portmanteaus. In his mid-twenties, he became a professor of physics, and despite his expertise in quantum mechanics, he remained unable to explain how atoms came into existence. Like many of us do in these situations, he took to drinking, and between clumsy nights stained with sweet basil marinara sauce and drunken afternoons punctuated by misused semicolons; he wrote the gospel of The Flying Spaghetti Monster, and started a religion called Pastafarianism.