DATE: Sunday, April 6, 1997                 TAG: 9704040903

SECTION: COMMENTARY              PAGE: J1   EDITION: FINAL 

TYPE: Opinion

SOURCE: DAVE ADDIS

                                            LENGTH:   62 lines

WE SNICKER AT HEAVEN'S GATE, BUT FACE IT: WE'RE ALL A BIT NUTS

Confession, they say, is good for the soul. It being Sunday and all, seems like a good time for us to dump some of that ol' burden of sin from our backs.

If it makes it easier for you, I'll go first.

I confess that once I got over the shock of seeing 39 corpses hauled from that San Diego mansion, I got a few wicked chuckles out of the Heaven's Gate crew and the little oddities that cropped up when their tour group, well, did a quickie check-out from Hotel Reality.

I've sinned, yes, but I'm only human. When a gaggle of weenie-beanie computer geeks, all in faux Star Wars togs and fresh new Nikes, each having carefully packed a tube of lip balm and a roll of quarters (?!?) decides to run off together to some intergalactic bus stop and try to hitch a ride on a comet - well, it's hard to stifle the grins, even for decent folk.

This is an awful way to behave, I know. But when you realize that these were bright, energetic, free human beings who were quite happy to embark on their journey, you have to figure, ``Hey, if they weren't horrified, why should I be horrified?''

If you don't admit to the same reaction, you're probably fibbing, and you're just not in the spirit of confession here. (Penance: Bend one knee and hum the theme to Star Trek, including the bridge and all the codas.)

Yup, I was in a regular fit of self-righteous smuggery as I strolled out onto the deck one night, fired up a Marlboro and searched the northwest sky for a peek at Hale-Bopp. Snickering, I wondered if I got the binoculars adjusted right, might I see Marshall Applewhite grinning back at me, vacantly, from the window of a UFO.

Then I realized that, at age 47, I seem to think I can continue smoking cigarettes without pulling an early check-out of my own. The odds are just as great that a spaceship might swoop down from behind the comet's veil and carry me off to some intergalactic nirvana.

You see, if we're going to keep this confession honest, we're going to admit that every day of our lives we cling desperately to ideas that are only a shade less nutty than those of the Heaven's Gate crowd.

If you think your best odds for a happy retirement are to be found in a weekly Lotto ticket, you're guilty. (Penance: Bend one knee and recite your lucky six-digit number . . . 7.1 million times, as those are your exact odds of winning.)

If you have ever voted for a politician who thinks a lottery is a fine long-term plan for financing state government, then you've voted for a public servant whose platform is not much steadier than Marshall Applewhite's. (Penance: Bend one knee and swallow your voter-registration card.)

If you believe that we can collect enough tax dollars to build a wall high enough and wide enough to hold back the Atlantic Ocean, you are a sinner. (Penance: Bend over backwards and kiss your swim trunks goodbye.)

If you believe that anybody who lives anywhere else can find ``Hampton Roads'' on a map, you are truly one of the deity's wayward children and are in need of tender dispensation. (Penance: Get down on both knees, open a Rand-MacNally Atlas, and stay there until you find Hampton Roads.)

Now don't we all feel better? From here on in, friends, let's keep in mind that when it comes to making fun of nut-cases, let he who is without sin cast the first Froot Loop. MEMO: Dave Addis is the editor of Commentary. Reach him at 446-2726, or

addis(AT)worldnet.att.net.

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