1. THE DOOR TO AN IKEA
If Jim had dropped acid and wandered into an IKEA the world would have been saved from a few things — mainly his poetry and music. IKEA is a beautifully designed hellscape conceived to trap aimless human beings and Jim was one human being I wish they had trapped. If he had strolled through any IKEA entrance he would have ended up getting super lost and fallen asleep in the dinnerware section. Then when he came out of his weekly drug stupor, he would have mistakenly been forced into the role of an in-house IKEA cafeteria worker and would forget all about The Doors, and living on rooftops, and partying with Nico, and he would have absolutely no recollection of Ray Manzarek or why he plays the organ like The Count from Sesame Street. Jim would live out a modest yet poetic existence, answering only to the pragmatic god of kottbullars, sinnerligs, and vikhammers.
2. THE DOOR TO AN OLIVE GARDEN
If fate had allowed Jim to saunter through the twin rustic doors of an Olive Garden he would have learned something he didn’t learn in film school: humility. If he had taken just 45 minutes to collect himself and enjoy the splendor of breadsticks and zoodle primavera paired with white zinfandel a very different Jim would have helped fuel the late ’60s zeitgeist. While dining solo at Olive Garden, he would have caught his reflection in a mirror and stumbled upon the very definition of humility: seeing yourself mow down unlimited breadsticks in leather pants and shirtless while unintentionally dousing yourself in the world’s purest olive oil. Jim’s experience here would have changed the band’s collective inspiration from “the doors of perception” to “the doors of Olive Garden,” drastically altering their musical direction. 100% for the better.
3. THE DOOR TO ALDOUS HUXLEY’S HOUSE
If young Jim had walked into Huxley’s house in 1963 The Doors never would have happened. Once he came face to face with the mystic who coined his beacon of inspiration, Jim would realize he doesn’t have the philosophical integrity to name a band after something he doesn’t fully understand. After barging through Huxley’s door, Jim would have politely been asked to sit down, crack open “The Doors of Perception” and tell Huxley his own interpretation of his writings. After Jim vomits his stoned-out summary, Huxley can do two things: either tell him to go forth unto the rock realm like a falcon on fire OR simply get up, walk into the kitchen, grab that cardboard cylinder thingy that’s left over from empty paper towel rolls, walk back into the study, and bonk Jim straight on the forehead. We all know Huxley’s not gonna do that first thing, so after Jim gets cardboard bonked, Jim and Aldous would sit and talk a bit more and Jim would voice his (now) newfound hesitancy about starting a rock band with the founding pillars of sex, drugs, and the unwavering commitment to make music inspired by The Count from Sesame Street. After this heart-to-heart, Jim would decide not to form The Doors and head home sadder but wiser. Concurrently, Huxley would go out and buy his first pair of leather pants.
4. THE DOOR TO A FIRM YET MOVING INTERVENTION
FOR A MAN NAMED TIM “THE WIZARD KING” BORRISON
If Jim “The Lizard King” had wandered into an intervention for a Venice man named Tim “The Wizard King” Borrison, it would have shaken him to his core. Upon entry, Jim would have noticed a few things. The first is that this Tim looks exactly like Jim except he has an eyepatch, a wizard hat, and no eyebrows. The second is that Tim’s name and nickname are eerily close to his own. Like really close. Like so close Jim knows this is no cosmic accident. Once he finds an empty recliner and settles in, Jim becomes privy to a firm yet moving plea from Tim’s father, Rear Admiral Beorge Borrison. Beorge goes on to explain how alcohol and drugs are a destructive beast sleeping within Tim, and that Tim’s family, friends and semi-successful rock band, The Boors, are desperately suffering at the hand of this beast. Beorge then prophetically says that this beast needs to be slain or Tim will soon find himself dead in a bathtub in Baris, Brance. While Jim is staring at Tim’s wizard hat and Beorge’s words are seeping into his brain, it awakens something in him he didn’t think he had: the desire for change. And, after everyone hugs and cries, Jim decides to quit The Doors and speed walk to the nearest barbershop. He asks for a high + tight crew cut and draws up a six-point success plan on how to become Venice’s premiere solo muzak performer while keeping his alcohol and drug beast at bay. Jim then stares into the Californian sun and feels something like inner peace for the first time in his life. He’ll go on to buy three pairs of pleated khakis within the hour and never look back.
5. THE DOOR TO THE APOLLO 11 SPACE LAUNCH
Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay. Just calm down. I know what you’re thinking: “Jim in space? That’s cruel!!” It’s not. Just give me thirty seconds to explain. Well… uh… okay… ahem… fine, YES, in this scenario, Jim does stumble on to the Apollo 11 spacecraft. And he does get violently shot into space. And no, he never comes back. So I guess I can see why you might think this is a little mean-spirited but let me rebuff your misguided mirage of criticisms by saying that it’s proven knowledge that once Jim’s in space and out of the Earth’s atmosphere, he’ll just live forever. So sure, our sad little world may have been robbed of a few lackluster (I’m being kind) books of poetry and some eye-gougingly blasé Doors’ records (also being kind) — but whatever, look at the bright side here: now Jim can live forever and become some kind of intergalactic sex freak. And if he’s business savvy enough and knows how to invest his space bucks he’ll be able to reap the benefits of the soon-to-be burgeoning space-economy. AND he’ll even get a shot at some kind of Interstellar-esque father/son redemption arc by possibly becoming a Rear Space Admiral in the US Space Force, ultimately impressing his dead Dad and becoming the immortal golden boy he always wanted. So calm down, space isn’t mean, it’s endless and beautiful — Morrison LIVES.