Jerusalem Syndrome - Marc Maron [28]
I remember being in Atlanta for a gig. The Coca-Cola Museum is in Atlanta. I was beside myself. I couldn’t wait to go. When I got there, I walked down a long, arched corridor that seemed to be made out of the same green glass that the old Coke bottles were made out of. At the end of the corridor was a young man sitting at an information desk. I walked to the desk and quietly said, “Is there a room for private worship? Maybe just me and the product and a mat with some old Coke jingles playing softly?”
He laughed and said, “No, there is not. We have the museum and the fountain room. Would you like a ticket?”
I said, “Yes, please. Thank you.” I went into the Coca-Cola Museum.
I went to the fountain room first. It was a dark room with spotlighted self-serve soda machines all around its perimeter. There was a light show in the form of fountains running water from the ceiling that were illuminated with strobe lights, giving the effect of the water actually running upward toward Heaven. Each machine had five dispensers. They had Coca-Cola, Fanta, Sprite, Tab, Fresca, Diet Coke, Mr. Pibb, Mello Yello, Ramblin’ Root Beer, Cherry Coke, and the evil, awful New Coke. There were brand names that were alien to me. That was because Coca-Cola makes and distributes many sodas that aren’t available in the United States. They wouldn’t suit our tastes. I tried all of them. Germany’s Kinley, Sweden’s Mer, the U.K.’s Lilt, and the Nordic Kuli. There was Limca, Gold Spot, Maaza from India. Japan’s Calo and Shpla. Royal Tru Orange from the Philippines and the amazing-tasting lychee-flavored Tian Yu Di from China. Lychee nut soda, fucking unbelievable, the power of it all.
As I walked through the exhibits I found the most fascinating historical element of the museum was the Coca-Cola logo itself, the white cursive on the red background. How it has traveled through time from 1886 to the present. Governments have changed, fashions have changed, countries have tumbled, World Wars have been fought, and nuclear bombs detonated, but the Coca-Cola logo lives on unchanged. No force of man or nature can damage the integrity of it. That logo represents something much larger than the ebb and flow of history. It represents a powerful consistency that looms sometimes largely and sometimes subtly over all things, like God.
It is but one in the modern pantheon of new gods! Philip Morris, AT&T, GE, AOL, General Motors, Time Warner, Viacom, Microsoft: Do we have a choice? Con Ed. Is there a moment that goes unpaid for? Did you leave anything on at home? Sprint, Levi Strauss, Disney, Nike, Sony. I have a Sony VCR, a Sony CD player, a Sony Walkman, a Sony television. I mean, where would we be without Sony? Certainly unentertained. Sony: It has four letters like “good,” like “love.”
These corporate entities quell our fears, they give us hope, and they make us feel as if we are part of something eternal and lasting. They present us with a manufactured reality that comforts us. In essence, they do everything God used to do.
All I know is that when I’m in a spiritual crisis, I’ll do anything—smoke, eat, drink, watch TV, get online, buy something, listen to music, go to the movies, take a drive—anything but get down on my knees and say, “God, it’s Marc. I don’t know who I am anymore. Can you help me?”
10
YEARS went by and I had very little communication with God. I started working professionally as a comic. Doing all the clubs in the Boston area and driving hours into the New England countryside to do one-nighters