1. It’s Saturday, November 14, 2015.

2. The problem is that humans don’t know what awaits them after they die.

My guess is that the pillbugs who inflicted the misery on Parisians last night probably thought there was something better on the other side of living. They were miserable in their current existence for whatever reason, and decided that they wanted one moment of warped glory before moving on. They couldn’t figure out a way to save the world, so they thought they capture some notoriety in trying to destroy it.

They were wretched losers, and they wanted to take others down before their own exit from a life of slights, perceived or real.

Humans don’t know what awaits them after they die. So you can do one of two things. You can actively find out. Or you can live your life in a way that, once the inevitable happens, gives something to the people who remain.

For most of the species, the choice is obvious.

I think we all want to try to make sense of the deaths of 127 people, at last report, whose only offense seemed to be celebrating their lives in one of the world’s most beautiful cities. A lot of them attended a show by an American metal band.

But there is no sense to it. It’s random and maddening, and makes you wonder about the capacity for evil in the world.

Humans don’t know what awaits them after they die. But here’s what they should know: As long as you love in return, your life never ends. You are remembered and revered and mourned. When you blow yourself up in pursuit of some nihilistic aim, you’re just splattered pieces of tissue to get hosed off the floor.

I and you and the people of every race, faith, gender and nationality will think today and in the days to come of those who died. We can’t imagine the pain of parents, friends, lovers and children who are staggered by their loss.

Maybe there’s some paradise the murderers expected as they pulled the trigger on their explosive devices. Maybe they’re right. Humans don’t know what awaits them after they die.

But I hope they rot in Hell.