"Annie, are you OK?"

The universe is fickle in its humor; objectively the perception of it usually takes a neutral stance between "good" or "bad" (if only due to averaging the the two out), but, subjective to the individual, it fluctuates between either/or without promise of consistency, with "bad" nearly always being more impactful than "good" to said individual. For example, as is going with the humor of the universe, it is with each time a man says “it will not happen to me” that the chances it will seemingly increase by ten, and the universe laughs itself to sleep in a blanket of your scorn. It's humorous, really, but I digress.

Life is (potentially) a series of placed events, and if we want to indulge in deistic-esque conversation regarding the universe's humor, then we ought to talk about the Domino Effect.

The Domino Effect, or a chain reaction, is a phrase, I'm sure, both I as a narrator and you as a reader are familiar with, but for the sake of storytelling etiquette, allow me to explain;

imagine this: a small gust of wind blew an even smaller leaf into the air, the leaf blew into someone's face and (despite all physics) up their nose, causing them to let out a particularly giant sneeze, subsequent to which they begin to fly, leading them to discover that they have magical powers that can only be activated by abnormally intense sneeze, sending them on a megalomaniacal course of world domination (as this person also happened to be unfortunately susceptible to hay fever), inciting the apocalypse and eventual world-ending doom.

Basically, each event causes the next.

The Domino Effect is one of the universe's most well-known jokes, and generally, most well-recieved as well. It's typically harmless and occurs to us every day in life, often in the most menial of ways, easy to forget. Other times it's large and obtuse, creating a seeming series of unfortunate events in our lives. And yet, there are other times, much more rare, when the two forces of "good" and "big event" (the latter usually being negative) come together to create nothing more than one great, mind-boggling joke, inexplicable in likelihood to any but the same universe delivering it.

At this point, you're likely thinking, "well, dear narrator, while that's a nice amount of overly-complicated syntax, what's it all got to do with anything?" Well, dear reader, your answers await -- let's delve into it, shall we?

This is how the death of an unknown french girl in the 1800s helped create a hit Michael Jackson song.

It's the late 1880s in Paris, France, and the body of an young, unknown girl has been pulled out of the River Seine at the Quai du Louvre. She is young, and based on the tightness of her unflawed skin, deemed to be no older than sixteen years of age. It's because of the flawlessness of her skin, that her death is declared a suicide, since there were no abrasions or other damage seeming to be made against her prior to death. She is also, notably, extremely beautiful.

This is the first recorded event of our domino effect, and set-up for the universe's joke. Let's keep going!

As the most well-known accounting of the tale goes, after nobody came forward to profess her identity, a pathologist at the Paris Morgue became incredibly overcome by this young girl's beauty, compelling him enough to do something about it. What exactly? Well, in a method to immortalize the girl whose looks he'd become so taken with, he made a wax plaster mask out of her face, forever encapsulating her beauty.

She became a hit, and several copies of her mask were sold all around Europe, posthumously solidifying her face as a trendy staple in Parisian Bohemian society and a beauty standard for several places around the rest of the continent. Her beauty, coupled with the mistyfing coutenance locked in her smile, added to the rapture society had taken her up on, with many even drawing comparisons to her and the famed portrait of Mona Lisa.

She became known as "L'inconnue de la seine."

This is the second step of our domino effect, with the third coming in to help complete the universe's well-spread out skit many years later during 1955. Here we cue a new set piece; enter: Asmund Laerdal, a Norweigan toy maker.

In 1955, Asmund Laerdal was out with his family when noticed his young son's body floating in nearby water. Rushed by paternal instinct, he quickly retrieved the boy and narrowly saved his life by clearing his airways.

Laerdal was a well-known toy manufacturer and the owner of a large toy company. During his time as a toy-maker, new methods of life-saving techniques were being discovered and taught. However, some methods required external help for teaching purposes.

Thus, so incentivized by his son's brush with death, Laerdal was more than willing to accept an offer from anaesthesiologists to help create a doll that people can practice on when learning about one of these techniques.

"Which technique, dear narrator?" you ask? It was one of resucitation, today known famously as CPR.

Together, Laerdal and several researchers worked on creating a life-size mannequin that would forever impact the realm of emergency procedures and save innumerable lives. While creating a mannequin that could truthfully depict the intricacies of the physical body and of cardiopulmonary resuscitation proved to be a difficult task for the man accustomed to making children's toys, Laerdal perserved and eventually, with the researchers he worked with, created history.

Laerdal had done it. He had successfully helped complete the creation of a mannequin that would help teach others how to save life after life. There would be more adults saved, as well as children, just like his son. In his achievement, Laerdal endearingly named the doll "Anne." (It would later become even more famously known as 'Resusci Anne.')

There was just one problem -- what face would he give the mannequin?

This, my dear readers, is when the universe must have taken note of a perfect opportunity and began setting up the punchline. We have now seen three dominoes fall in motion, one after the other in a perfectly straight line. The momentum of the reaction has begun and the pieces are now inevitably falling, making the end just one chain reaction away. In the distance, if you listen closely, the universe is laughing in a blanket of your scorn. But with it, it is also sleeping on a pillow of good-nature and fueled to exhaustion by its own essence of pure, childlike fun.

In the midst of all these larger dominoes and events taking place, or the only ones seemingly worthy of noting down, we sometimes forget that the domino effect also occurs to us every day in life, often in the most menial of ways. But that's not to say they aren't purposeful, and the larger events are unable to coincide with the smaller.

Laerdal was adamant that the face be female, feeling that a male mannequin would be less comfortable than a female to practice on, specifically for male trainees.

Stumped on what Anne should look like, Laerdal thought hard on all the faces he had seen in his life. "Not this one, not that one" must have been a common thought in his head. He was stumped. That is, until one day, when thinking back on a visit to his wife's family, it hit him; a beautiful girl, no older than sixteen, with soft features and extreme beauty: a girl whose body was dragged out of the River Siene years ago, and whose same face he had seen hanging up on his in-law's walls in a mask made to immortalize her beauty.

It was L'inconnue de la Seine.

This is what I mean when I say that the domino effect also occurs to us every day in life. Certain events are larger than others in big chain reactions, and can be attributed in causation to the event prior, very directly so. But it's these indirect events that tickle the universe the most. It was nothing more than a regular trip to his in-law's, which had not been directly caused by anything else in this respective domino effect. It was an independent action, separate to this specific chain reaction, and yet it catalyzed and even defined the momentum for all other events soon to occur within it.

And so, the universe's laugh turns manical, as we're left to wonder if such an event was truly independent, or if 'cause' and 'effect' are two ideas just too far beyond ourselves to comprehend. Again, if engaging in deistic-esque conversation about the universe's humor, while everyone is entitled to their own beliefs on whether Laerdal's choice was independent or not, it's exactly that rationale that would make the universe snuggle into its blanket just a little warmer at night.

And so, L'inconnue de la Seine becomes the face of the CPR doll, Anne. Her beautiful face precedes her reputation, and she becomes the most kissed girl in the world as trainees practice on her mannequin and save countless amounts of lives.

And here it is: the beginning of the end, and the exposition to final part of our story.

The mannequin eventually makes its way into American practices, where it soon becomes colloquially known as "CPR Annie." This leads to trainees being taught to ask the mannequin, "Annie, are you ok?" to simulate a real-life scenario where CPR is needed.

We have now reached the punchline.

See, if you're at all familiar with the king of pop music (and if not, please go have a listen, will you?), this line might ring a few bells.

It's this line that inspires the pre-chorus to one of Michael Jackson's most famous songs, "Smooth Criminal."

Annie, are you okay?

So, Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?

Annie, are you okay?

So, Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?

Annie, are you okay?

So, Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?

Annie, are you okay?

So, Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?

These are the infamous lyrics, written to help depict the death of a young girl in the song (sound familiar?), although this girl is fictional and a murder victim, hence the title "Smooth Criminal" as it's about the murderer himself.

The song was an internation smash hit, peaking at number 7 on the US charts, topping them in several european countries and enterting the top ten in dozens more.

The choreography to the dance become notorious as well, being accredited to the creation of the "anti-gravity lean," with the help of anchors weighing the shoes down to the ground (see below).

And now, dear reader, the end is near, if not already here (try not to cry in agony, although I will humbly understand if you do).

That is how the death of an unknown french girl in the late 1800s helped create a hit Michael Jackson song, and all due the potential of one large joke, put in motion and told by a universe with a fickle sense of humor.

I, for one, find the universe's humor to be a bit troublesome most of the time; after all, it is with each time a man says “it will not happen to me” that the chances it will seemingly increase by ten, and this doesn't even begin to scratch the idea of the Domino Effect.

The Domino Effect can take place in an array of different manners, from (sometimes only seemingly) insignificant happenings in everyday life, to larger, often inconvenient displays that interfere with us with no purpose but to give our friendly inhabiter a good laugh at our expense.

We view these negative events as "larger" than the good ones, if only because "bad" will most oftentimes be received as more impactful than "good" to the indivdual percieving it.

Yet, as we now know, there are other times when "larger" events work together in tandem with said good ones, to create nothing more than one great, mind-boggling joke, inexplicable in likelihood to any but the same universe delivering it.

So now, each time you bop out to that one hit Michael Jackson song, I hope you, like Laerdal, recall the face of a beautiful french girl, no older than sixteen, and think of the universe's humor, and perhaps even laugh along with it. Because, if we're being truly honest, it's humorous, really (but once again, I digress).