Reports from the Third Kingdom

Left Behind (and Loving It)

2011-05-29T10:18:00.000-07:00

Admit it.

For one second, you thought: "Hmm. No Third Kingdom update for a couple of weeks. Is he taking his time or has he been . . . raptured?!?"

I mean, c'mon, how great would that be? I mean, I spend my time and money (not really) typing thousands of words about the relative futility of religion in my life and BAM! I get sucked up into a heaven I didn't believe existed. Merriam-Webster would have to invent a new definition of irony because I would OWN that bitch!

With that said, it occurred to me how ironic it was that I had not spent multiple posts on Harold Camping's National Humiliation Countdown considering how rare it is that someone so clearly illustrates one of many reasons to be skeptical of religion. Seriously, if I were writing a movie about my life, I would have invented Harold Camping so my character could create a career on the back of his doomed predictions.

Truth is, I didn't know if there was anything new I could bring to the conversation that the HuffingtonPost and half my Twitter stream weren't already saying. And then it hit me. The fact that everyone was openly mocking Camping WAS the story!

In my brief lifetime (how many decades is still considered brief?), I've lived through at least 10 Doomsday predictions -- the most memorable being some Nostradamus date that occurred while I was in middle school. Much like the days leading up to May 21, my school was buzzing with theories, fears, but mostly jokes. Were some of us uneasy? Sure. But none of us were contemplating selling our homes or giving away our possessions (mainly because we had little or none of both). In all, the world's end was greeted with a smirk and then semi-amnesia.

But this year was different for two reasons:
1. There simply wasn't as much media back in those days. CNN was an infant, the internet was non-existent and cell phones were for Michael Douglas and exactly 10 yuppie jerks in their convertible Saabs.
2. This doomsday prediction was created by a CHRISTIAN. Which, for most people, gives it validity. Whereas we could readily dismiss Nostradamus (French pansy!) and Heaven's Gate (dirty hippies), Harold Camping had all the right qualifications: an old, white, rich man with a powerful radio station, years of "experience" and a dedicated following. In short, the difference between Camping and T.D. Jakes is a few shades of melanin.

To be sure, when I carefully broached the subject with one of my "saved' co-workers, he shook his head in disgust.

"Why would he say that? Now when the real rapture comes. No one will be prepared."

Do you see the issue I'm having here? Most Black folks I know tacitly accept, if not fully believe, that the rapture WILL happen. But somehow, they just knew Camping's datebook was off. Most of this is, I know, connected to the bible verse about Jesus' return being unknown to man and coming, "like a thief in the night." But how were they so sure that this fairytale prediction was any less true than any other? Are there some mass meetings these Christians have? Oh wait, it's called Church. Point being, for a country that remains predominantly Christian-minded, why was it acceptable to see supposedly impartial national news anchors greeting each other with a sarcastic "Happy Rapture Day" last Friday? Did they have no doubt?

I submit the answer is yes. As much as I rail against those who claim American Christianity is under attack (PS: Fox News Pundits), I can't help but feel that an eroding of faith is to blame for the collective nose-thumbing (who says that?) to the 2011 Rapture.

But where Mike Huckabee and I part ways is that I don't blame gays or mexicans or even gay mexicans for this. I blame, well, the bible. I think in the comfy confines of a family church, it's much easier to accept, or at least not actively reject, some the bible's more, um, interesting ideas of the world. As my lapsed Baptist wife reminds me, "outside of heaven and hell, you don't really think about the details unless someone presses you on them."

And, thanks to the interwebs and the 24-hour news cycle, the rapture -- which reads great on paper -- was thrust into the harsh lighting of reality and made to stand next to tornadoes, the economy and the release of "Pirates of the Caribbean: Give Me Your Money" and the shit didn't stack up.

Of course, Camping has restructured his prediction but, much like Trump's Presidential run, the horse is out the barn. Ironically, the rapture may truly be the beginning of the end of Christianity as we know it.

A Kink in My Armor

2011-05-17T19:15:00.000-07:00

As I write this, we are at Defcon 4 for craziness as the countdown to Rapture is exactly four days away. I wish I had more time to devote to this, but thankfully the left-wing radical media is ALL OVER this story. I especially like MSNBC's Lawrence O'Donnell's take and CANNOT WAIT to see how Bill Maher attacks/discusses it on Rapture Eve this Friday.

But that's not why I'm writing today.

Imagine, if you will (or because I insist), that you are just dying for a chocolate milkshake. But considering that you don't live atop a Dairy Queen, are very lazy and haven't perfected that "instant food" machine from Star Trek, you accept that you're pretty much shit out of luck.

But then there's a knock at your door and, by Thor's Hammer, there's a free milkshake just sitting there with your name on it. Of course, I would typically warn you about free food you find on your doorstep -- much less food with the ability to knock on your door (does it have arms or telekinesis? does it matter?), but you get the idea, right?

So that's why I'm writing.

As you can probably tell, I'm usually at the ready for a good religious discussion. And while my wife and I have some pretty rigorous talks, there's nothing like getting a little strange, if you know what I mean (wink, wink).

And sure as shit, not 10 seconds after hearing a tentative knock on our front door was I engaged in just such a discussion.

Behold, a two white folks, David and Mattie (no, I don't remember their real names), were at my door complete with pamphlets, mousy hair and those damned puppy-dog missionary eyes. Every JW I've met (usually at my front door) exudes this odd mix of overly-confident vacuum salesman and almost-defeated high school junior looking for your $15 to fund the Hurricanes' uniform drive. Honestly, I don't know whether to pity them or drive them away.

In this case, I engaged them. Like big time.

So, I paid the customary etiquette, nodding and smiling as he droned on a bit about why God didn't really use the Japanese earthquake as punishment (clearly David never met THIS chick). Nice thought, but kinda old news for me. No, I had bigger Jesus fish to fry. So, like a good host, I interrupted.

"Do you think the rapture is coming on May 21?"

David (mid-20's, could be the nerdy forensic guy on "C.S.I. Des Moines") and Mattie (early 40's and probably right at home with a God Hates Fags picket sign in her hand) shook their heads with a reassuring "no."

"But you do believe the world is going to end soon, right?"

"Well, the signs are all there," David began as I swooned in deja vu (remembering the conversation/confrontation I had at work). David began running down the "startlting" truth behind the increased earthquakes, floods and Charlie Sheen antics which he clearly saw as the trailers before the big show.

I rebutted with what I found as sound logic -- like the fact that there have ALWAYS been earthquakes and natural disasters or the fact that the perceived increase in such events is colored by the fact that we have better monitoring equipment. Naturally none of this made a dent, at least not for him. But it was for me.

Please to explain: So I am a pretty firm believer in environmental change/global warming. It makes complete sense to me that human activity has had some affect on the plant which is resulting in harsher weather, homeless polar bears and the like. So, why was I just playing all of those scientific facts down? Did I not actually believe them or was I -- (gasp) a victim of COGNITIVE DISSONANCE!?!?

In any other conversation about weather patterns, I would concede that yes, it does seem that earthquakes are getting more extreme, that tornadoes seem to be getting bigger, more frequent. But that has more to do with the melting of polar ice caps, more moist air and what not. I have no faith that it has to do with the amount of heathens in this world.

"So if it's not God causing the increased earthquakes, whose doing it?" I asked.

In a nutshell, his position was that man's wicked behavior was bringing the world to an end -- but where I saw pollution of the air, he saw pollution of the soul. Which may seem like splitting hairs but I don't see it that way. Mainly because to agree with David I would have to accept a whole host of unbelievable notions: multi-headed apocalyptic lions, witchcraft, the devil, Paul Ryan's budget -- it's all too much, and, not to mention, nonsensical.

Take this tidbit: When they told me that a good atheists' deeds (you know, giving to the poor, saving bunnies and the like) did not weigh the same as an average Christian's I asked why. I was told that a really good person's deeds are bupkiss without the J-Man's stamp of approval. Yes, I knew the answer but I really just needed someone to say it out loud to my face. They did not disappoint, but, wait it gets better.

"Does God help those that do not believe in him?" I posed.

I mean if God really is a master chess player, does he only move the pieces that believe in him? If so, why would he bother to punish them if the ones who don't if they wouldn't recognize it as punishment?

"Well," David looked reluctant for the first time, "No, he doesn't."

"But," Mattie piped up for the first time, "The devil might."

If this was a shitty romantic comedy trailer, this is where they would play the record scratch cue.

I literally took a step back, as if to get a better view of this brand of idiocy.

"So, God won't help those who don't believe in him but the devil WILL help those that don't believe in him?"

Now, to be honest, David looked kinda pissed. It was as if Mattie just admitted that "yes, we do spit in your burgers." If he hadn't been abundantly wasn't clear that he wasn't getting a sale before, Mattie had just sealed the deal.

Mattie shrugged her shoulders as if to say "well, you asked."

Oddly, the illogical lunacy of that statement didn't sink in and instead pooled around their feet.

It was hard to react, so I just repeated a shocked "wow" about four times before saying:

"You know, I really do like the Christian message of 'do unto others as you would have done unto you,' but statements like that are the reason why so many people are turned off." I said this not to be mean, indeed, I assured them that I was not "aiming for heaven," but as a genuine statement of disappointment.

But perhaps we should thank folks like Mattie who lay it all bare. She was clear that for all the Jesus talk, many Christians aren't really interested in Jesus' golden rule -- they are more interested in Jesus' Gold Club Card; that exclusive membership that only lets in the like-minded.

Having exceeded my daily dose of BS I bid them adieu and went back in for some breakfast.

God DAMMITT!

2011-04-26T18:46:00.000-07:00

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Any time someone calls for the end of the world, you can't be shocked when someone makes fun of them.

But that someone was supposed to be ME goddammit.

Alas, I must say Bravo to the American Atheists for really, really putting the screws to Harold Camping and his Rapture crew.

Don't know who Harold Camping is? Well, you don't have much time to figure it out because according to Camping and the hundreds of ~~lunatics~~ believers who follow him, the end of the world is coming May 21. Actually, the END of the world will be in October. May 21 is when Jesus comes back and all good Christians get raptured out of their clothes, cars, jobs and (rubs hands together) money!

Yes, Camping's been wrong about other end of the world predictions. No, the hundreds of people piling into Armageddon-wrapped vans don't give a shit as they cross the country spreading the word. But what makes this different than 1994 (the last time Camping was wrong), is that the American Atheists have enough dough to put up these billboards:

Which are ALMOST as funny as these:

Well done atheists, well done. Too bad it won't make a lick of difference. Neither will the fact that these poor bastards will still be here on May 22 saddled with enough congnitive dissonance to choke a herd of elephants. THAT'S the interview I want.

Actually, I do plan on calling Camping's, uh, camp, to get some ideas on what they're planning to do with all their stuff after they get sucked up by the Jesus straw. I doubt I'll get any replies, but I'll let you know immediately.

I Am Legion

2011-04-19T14:35:00.000-07:00

So a few days after the devastating Japanese earthquake (apparently the hard work of prayee McGee over here), I reluctantly/fervently got embroiled in an end of the world debate with two of my co-workers.

One of them, I'll call him Francis (because I've always wanted to rename someone Francis), was convinced that the quake, along with the mass deaths of birds and the Mayan 2012 calendar, was proof that SOMETHING huge was about to happen.

Now, let me state upfront that I like Francis. He's a great guy, funny, and really good at his job. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't lose a thimble of respect for him as his argument jumped from one disconnected myth to the next before ultimately ending in a rather heated defense of aliens building Egyptian pyramids; "They have hieroglyphs of aliens on the pyramids!" he raged.

My other co-worker, Alphonso St. Drucker III (~~not~~ his real name), took the opposite position, or what I called, the Sane Approach. Al (for short) argued that the earthquake was no more a sign than any other natural disaster that we've seen this year alone, let alone since we've been recording such things. He laid out, in a lengthy email, the literal HUNDREDS of people -- mostly apocalyptic Christians -- who've unsuccessfully predicted the end of days. But the real capper happened with this paraphrased exchange:

Al: They're all myths. You can't apply myths and made up stories to the world we live in.

Francis: Well how do you know they're stories? You weren't there to witness them.

Al: Do you honestly believe that Noah's Ark was an accurate story?

Francis: Well, no but by that standard you'd say the whole bible was made up?

Al: Precisely.

I'll admit this to you now -- I came a little bit when he said that.

Not because I was touching myself (lesson learned HR department, let's move on please). No, it was because with one word, I found that I was not alone at work. It's a strange isolation to be Black and atheist. To a very large degree, believing is one of the cultural cornerstones of the Black identity. It goes without saying that without church there would not have been the Civil Rights Movement. Watch any Black comedian and within 10 minutes you'll get a joke about loud preachers, sticky-fingered parishoners and some foul-mouthed old lady in the pews. I can probably count on one hand how many Black people I've eaten with who do NOT pray before grubbing. Long story short, Black folks are religious.

I don't want to get in a whole big thing here (you know -- like devote an entire blog to it or anything) but my lack of faith has often put me on the outside of mainstream Black culture, a perch I've learned to love as I've gotten older. But that doesn't make it any easier, especially working for and with Black folks who can be judgmental and even fearful of non-believers. Quick story: I overheard two co-workers discussing dating and one said she ALMOST dated an atheist. The other woman literally recoiled saying "Keep them away from me!" So you kind of see where I'm coming from.

Needless to say, within minutes of the debate's end, I was calling Al asking him to come to my office. Once inside, I shut the door and opened the floodgates of my heathen soul. And he did the same.

And thus the opening minutes of this year's most unlikely romantic comedy "Struck by Lightning."

Seriously, though, we do snicker a lot now. Shooting each other looks and rolling our eyes when co-workers say things like "death always comes in threes." It is positively gay, but I'm not complaining. At least I've found someone, right?

Full Tilt Crazy

2011-03-16T17:30:00.000-07:00

I don't use the word "bitch" that often -- usually just in court or in Wendy's Drive-Thrus (don't ask) -- but THIS bitch right here is crazy!

Look, I get it.

When you're looking for evidence that God exists there's nothing more solid than a good old, 8.9 earthquake to shore up your doubts. I mean it's got everything -- 100,000s of dead men, women and children, widespread panic, fires, massive floods -- it's soooo B.C.!

And considering we only have, what, two months before the rapture, the Japanese earthquake/tsunami is just God stretching his smiting muscles, right?

So I can't blame evagelical Christians who read armageddon into natural disasters, but to actually PRAY for them is just plumb fucking crazy! Strike that, plumb fucking evil.

And not to mention, useless.

Crazy Bitch upstairs says she and her friends prayed for a major sign from God to convince atheists to convert. And while I cannot speak for all atheists, earthquakes, as devastating as they may be, are kind of vague.

Want to prove God's existence, have him do something that, I don't know, doesn't already happen literally hundreds of times a year. How about a HUGE FACE IN THE SKY CLAIMING -- "YES I AM GOD." Or even the whole flipped city from "Inception." Shit, I'll take world peace. But claiming natural disasters . . . oh hell, I can't even give this anymore thought.

Sometimes these believers really suck.

Like Dead Birds from Heaven

2011-01-11T15:10:00.000-08:00

Yeah, so . . . . I haven't blogged for a while.

Why?

Cause.

Now, on to other news.

So, as you know by now, thousands of birds dropped dead on new year's in Arkansas and as soon as I saw the news I just KNEW it would be a matter of time before I heard someone marking it as a sign of the end of days. And to be fair, when I saw the newscast, it DID seem like one of the overt foreshadowing scenes in a Jerry Bruckheimer disaster film, one in which I would surely be the Black (and therefore expendable) best friend of the White hero. I'd probably be named Lucius and I'd be full of life-affirming advice like "let go man" and "turn off your brain, turn on your heart."

Clearly I've thought about this too much.

Anyway, it took exactly three days for someone to call "GOD DID IT" (believe it or not, it wasn't Kirk Cameron). If you know anything about my house, you know that the basement floods. A lot. It's like a hobby. A very expensive, teeth-grating hobby that makes me wanna punch my house in the face.

Anyway, the guy who came to fix the basement was all a flutter about the dead birds.

"I tell you, he's coming back." He said. The "he" being Jesus or perhaps The Terminator, he didn't really specify but I assume the former.

You'd be proud, I didn't roll my eyes, not even once.

I wanted to, I mean my eyes were in pole position but I realized there was no point. We are just two different types of people. Which brings me to the new grand conclusion of my life -- that the world has two types of people; those that believe in coincidence and those that don't. I'm the former.

Birds fall from the sky on New Year's Eve -- Eerie? Yes.
2012-ish? You bet.
Coincidence? Without a doubt.

For some, that is simply too much to handle. The event is too ripe with potential meaning for it to mean NOTHING.

There's this little thing I learned about called "magical thinking," which basically breaks down to believing in the causal relationship between unrelated things. Like, cold weather leading to catching a cold (something apparently EVERYONE believes) or celebrities dying in threes. Essentially, its
superstition and I don't have a drop of it in me.

Ok, when I was a kid I may have avoided some sidewalk cracks so as to not put my mother in traction, but after slipping up a few times and finding my mother in perfect health, the "magic" started to wear thin. If it helps, my belief in Santa was broken once I saw how big the country was after driving from New Jersey to Dallas. AND I WAS SEVEN! Logic started to bear out where magic and supernatural did not.

Now, having said that, I allow that there are things that science has yet to explain and that there may be things like telepathy or clarivoyance (maybe), but when it comes to dead birds and the return of a 3,000 Jewish hippie it all feels kinda . . . iffy.

So, as I embark on this new year of blogging, I want to warn ALL believers, be you Christians, Muslims or simply someone who REALLY thinks being born in January makes you different than someone born in June -- I'M COMING FOR YOUR FAITH!!!!!!! (that's really extreme, I mean, keep your faith by all means. It's not, you know, up to me what you believe. I just, well, I just want you to think about some of the things you say and do and understand that some of it is kinda silly).

Over the last few months I've come to a grand conclusion; there is a distinct difference between myself and the carpenter (ironic no?) in my house.

This Woman is Whack!

2010-09-18T13:34:00.000-07:00

At this point, almost a week since Christine O'Donnell has won the Republican bid to ultimately ~~lose~~ run for the Delaware Senate seat, talking about her kooky statements would seem almost nostalgic.

Except, I haven't yet sprayed my brand of snark on the subject just yet, so yeah, it's going to happen.

At first I was a bit hesitant.

Back in the 90's EVERYONE was doing crazy shit. Saggy jeans and tight spandex ran neck and neck for the top way to humiliate yourself in public; Paula Abdul was completely and un-ironically relevant; and, most importantly, there was barely even an internet (you can stop raising your hand AOL, we see you and we're ignoring you). Truth, the following things happened to me all in the 90's:

1. I lost my virginity while listening to an extended version of "Moments in Love" by the Art of Noise

2. I had a flatop haircut

3. I cheered when OJ was found "not guilty"

You feel all your respect for me just zipped up its coat and beat a line for the door? I wouldn't want my 1990's behavior/statements/music choices to define me now that I'm all respectable. And neither should Christine O'Donnell.

Granted, I'm not jockeying for a seat to run an ENTIRE state, but still, fair is fair.

So when I saw the clip of a very 1990's Christine O'Donnell proudly saying that masturbation was un-christian like because it was selfish, I actually thought it was somewhat unfair to dig up some "dirt" as a means of discrediting her. Clearly she was an idealistic teenager who was still finding her way . . . . wait, she was 27! As in the age I was when I had been married for a couple of years and had a child and a mortgage?

Hmm.

Ok, look. I understand that being a Christian, or of any faith really, basically requires you to have some absolutes -- otherwise the whole discussion on right and wrong, heaven and hell falls flat. But I assume, that most normal folks allow for some cognitive dissonance as they move through life. "YES, I believe Jesus is my only ticket to heaven but I'm pretty sure Abdul will get his 72 virgins, too." Like me, I LOVE Star Wars but I don't have the passion, will or time to become the President of a Star Wars fan club. I just don't have it in me.

But Christine did. At the age of 27 she started S.A.L.T. a Christian group that hates vaseline and genitalia or something. Anyway, she was interviewed on an MTV show saying that masturbation required lust which is evil and therefore it too is evil. Apparently, masturbation is ruining marriages. As Christine notes, "if [a man] can please himself, what I'm in the picture for?" Don't believe me? Watch the clip.

SEE?!?! She was 27 when she said that. Now that she wants to be taken more seriously, she's since admitted to masturbating (JUST ONCE!) in 1999 and claims her faith has matured since the 1990s.

So, I have two quick points.

1. I haven't been 27 for a few years now, but my worldview hasn't changed that fucking drastically. I'm pretty much the same dude.
2. Anybody, AT THE AGE OF 27, who thinks a man will find his woman less desirable because he can jerk off is fucking insane. Yes, there are people addicted to porn who will opt to masturbate over real sex but
A. I'm not talking about them
B. When she made these statements there was no pornhub.com or keezmovies.com for men to get addicted to. Oh, what is pornhub.com? Uh, I dunno.

If jerking off was a legitimate substitute for sex, I, and the rest of the male population, would have never lost our virginity.

No, the real problem is that Christine is an idiot who believes pretty much anything she's told. I can only assume the men she had dealt with at this point were also sexually restricted goofballs convinced that sexual desire would turn them into demons.

I don't live in Delaware but I fear for those that do. Christine O'Donnell lacks the adult ability to discern gray. And while a black and white morality may work when your 18 it does not as an adult and DEFINITELY not as a leader in the government. We need people who can set aside their idiosyncratic views of the world and see life through other's eyes, imagine and have compassion for the varied stations of life. I believe that this woman simply cannot do that. She is too easily swayed by religious hoo-ha.

Just last night, Bill Maher ran the following clip that shows Christine on his Politically Incorrect from 1999 where she said she "dabbled in witchcraft." Apparently a date took her to a movie and then a satanic altar. This is a scant three years after being on MTV as the president of S.A.L.T. So either she was doing a Christian sting or she's a fucking idiot. Sadly, I think it's the latter and this chick may SOON BE RUNNING DELAWARE and then the only jerk-off in the state will be her.

Oh HELL Yes!

2010-09-06T18:39:00.000-07:00

Happy Labor Day!

To celebrate I will not be doing much work, instead I will leave the heavy lifting to the good folks at Baptazia, the incredible people who mix video of people catching the holy ghost with thumping UK bass music. You may recall I posted a clip a while back but there's something new (or at least new to me) and it is fucking fantastic.

If you don't have time to watch it all -- which you should considering you didn't work today -- please fast forward to 1:46 into the clip where a rather portly gentleman zombie-stalks over to a woman and the two have a collective holy conniption fit. Maybe the funniest thing I've seen all year. My wife, doesn't agree, but then again, she doesn't find much merit in "Anchorman" -- a fact that drives a wedge in our hollow, hollow marriage. Just kidding honey! (Actually, she quoted "you have a breathtaking heiny" not an hour ago -- so yes, I still love her).

Enough prelude, enjoy:

Prove Your Faith in Me

2010-09-01T18:12:00.000-07:00

If you love me, or just like me a little bit, you will cast your vote for this proposed Green Day Care that is part of the Pepsi Refresh project! It's a great idea that brings quality food to young kids, teaches them how to recyle, farm and even . . . fly. It also requires DAILY votes between now and Sept. 30 to win.

Here's how to do it:

1. Use your Facebook account

2. Text "102627" to "Pepsi" (73774)

3. Click the big BIG VOTE BUTTON on the top left of the blog

Fuck Glenn Beck

2010-08-27T12:00:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting at work, catching up on my Daily Show/Colbert Report fix during my lunch break, as I do so often and I suddenly found myself literally choking on a Death Star-sized piece of irony stuck in my throat.

There are two big stories this week that happily dovetail into the themes of my blog (BONUS!):
1. The so-called Ground Zero Mosque
2. Glenn Beck's "Restoring Honor" Rally taking place tomorrow

Notice any similarities?

Let me break it down for you (ooh if I only had a blackboard this would be PERFECT!)

As you know, the Ground Zero Mosque is really an Islamic Community Center that will be built two blocks from ground zero of 9/11.

As you also may know, Glenn Beck's "Restoring Honor" Rally will not only take place on the same day as the anniversary of MLK's historic 1963 March on Washington, it will also take place AT THE SAME PLACE. Right there on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, Glenn Beck will be spewing his highly-rated brand of crazy. But before you rise in your seat and call for Beck's head (no worry, it's empty), take comfort in the fact that Beck recognizes the percieved insensitivity of his rally and is therefore going to move it . . . two steps down.

That needle-like sensation behind your eye is not an aneurysm, it's all of the Right Wing's hypocrisy caving in on itself like a Black hole.

That's right, the same fuck-tards SCREAMING that two blocks is "too close" to the hallowed ground of 9/11 for the planned Islamic center are the same asshats giving Beck a pass after he agreed to step down TWO FUCKING STAIRS down from where Martin Luther King delivered perhaps the most striking speech in U.S. history (it's right up there with Morpheus' speech in Matrix Reloaded).

And here's the thing, despite some stirring from Rev. Al Sharpton, who no one listens to anymore, Beck's blasphemy is hardly the firestorm that the Mosque is. Why? Both deal with issues of faith, proximity and stairs (I presume the mosque will have steps).

Because as Black folks we know bigotry when we see it. Shit! We've had to deal with Klan (actual terrorists mind you) marching through our neighborhoods for decades, we can't get upset because some bigoted asshat wants to hold a speech where MLK stood. Is it idiotic? Yes. Is it insensitive? Ho-boy you bet? Is it illegal? Unfortunately no.

As King and that other guy, oh what's his name, oh yeah, JESUS once said "Love thy neighbor." What happened to America's so-called Christian Heart that would open itself up not only to those we don't like but those that don't like us? When 9/11 happened, our most openly Christian president-to-date El Busho didn't respond with Christian love, he fired back with American gunfire. To be fair, he was acting Christian-like -- just Old School, like Old Testament God -- he of the smoting and smallpox.

No, this Christian facade many of the Islamic Center protesters flock behind (including Glenn Beck -- a mormon by the way which makes his march 1000 times more ironic) has become a symbol not of love but of rabid xenophobic nationalism -- "Pray like me or so help me God I'll fucking ram this cross down your throat!"

And perhaps Black folks have taken too many "grin and bear it" courses at Racism Univeristy, but Glenn Beck's rally and the NY Islamic Center are not real issues. Poverty, sexism, racism, hunger, those doomed Chilean miners -- THOSE are issues worth going to the mat for. I guess, over the years we've learned to choose our battles. Sadly, those protesting the NY Islamic center and lining up at Beck's rally haven't learned theirs.

PS: Seriously, fuck Glenn Beck.

The Audacity of Stupidity

2010-08-22T17:00:00.000-07:00

First thing you should know is that we didn't go back to Church today. And I'll have you know I am NOT responsible. Blame it on the first day of school being tomorrow and the fact that my girls have a LOT of hair -- my youngest is screaming about the hot comb as I type "Be easy on me please!" she screams with tear-filled eyes.

Anyway, on to this week's post.

According to a Time Magazine poll, 24% of Americans believe that President Obama is really a Muslim with 47% believing he's a Christian. This, of course was fueled by his tacit support the so-called "Ground Zero Mosque."

I say they're both wrong.

Why? Because I say Obama is an athiest.

Granted, I've never met the man but I think I understand him.

According to his biography "Audacity of Hope," (a book my mother-in-law gave me years ago and I subsequently never read. I like to think my closet full of Obama t-shirts has made up for this lack.), Obama was raised in a household where religion was studied rather than followed. Apparently, much like my parents, Obama's mama didn't force any religion on her son but sort laid out a smorgasbord of beliefs for him to pick from.

Here's a representative quote from the book (at least I hope it is, I'm trusting you Google):

"I was not raised in a religious household. For my mother, organized religion too often dressed up closed-mindedness in the garb of piety, cruelty and oppression in the cloak of righteousness. However, in her mind, a working knowledge of the world's great religions was a necessary part of any well-rounded education. In our household the Bible, the Koran, and the Bhagavad Gita sat on the shelf alongside books of Greek and Norse and African mythology."

Can you see why I voted for the man?

For him Thor is about as real as Jesus or Buddah. And while you could start a war over the validity of biblical claims, no one will lift a finger to dispute the historical accuracy of Thor (I would, however, like to raise a finger and say that the Thor movie looks better than I expected).

Now, as we all know, at some point Obama went all "Black mainstream" when he converted to Christianity and joined a big-time church. End of story, right?

WRONG!

May I submit my conspiracy theory about Obama's true faith? Well yes I may because it's my f'n blog! You just sit back and read.

I believe that Obama realized early on that he wanted to run for high office and set about to strategically make his life electable. How did he do that? The following steps are taken directly from President Obama's notebook.

STEP ONE: Marry a Black woman.

I'm not saying Barack isn't genuinely in love with Michelle (I'm on record saying that she is not the best-looking woman in the world, but she is basically attractive and she does have a donk), but I DO think he CHOSE to date a Black woman for the real fact that no Black man (bi-racial or otherwise) could get elected with a White woman on his arm. I can tell you no Black woman I know would vote for him and I'm pretty sure it would turn off lots of White folks, too. Call it the Harold Ford effect.

STEP TWO: Become a Christian

Whenever I speak to someone about my lack of Christianity, there's usually this sudden call to arms "you should read this" or "watch Passion of the Christ" or worse, "you should come to my church." The underlying idea is that somewhere out there is the perfect convincing argument for Jesus. And what I like to reply with the following: "Me suddenly believing in Christian mythology is about as likely as you believing in the truth of Santa Claus." Granted both may have some historical roots, but when you add in water/wine conversions and reindeer with electric noses it gets a bit fuzzy.

All that said, I just don't believe any one who claims to start believing in the mythology of religion as an adult. Especially not someone I want running the country. If he was born with it, hey, fine. You can't pick your parents and if they foisted some religion on you that you can't set aside, I'm fine with that. Not to mention, as an American I don't really have a fucking choice since we only elect Christians. But any one convinced of the stories of the bible after they've started paying mortgages is just unfathomable to me.

So honestly, I'm not surprised that President Obama's religious belief is under attack. It's hard to play ball if you don't know the rules. Actually, that's not right. It's hard to play ball if you don't really feel like playing. I'm sure he KNOWS the rules of the game but just doesn't really have his heart in it. And I guess his lack of faith is showing but you know what FUCK IT, he's already President! Suck that Tea baggers! Hey, it's not like you can impeach him for NOT being a chri. . .

Oooh, I should stop typing right now in case anyone gets any ideas.

PS: There is a Step 3 -- Shave Off Facial Hair

I submit that no Black man could be elected President rocking ANY trace of facial hair. It's Lando Calrissian Clause. Why else would he only be a sidekick when it was HE that blew up the Death Star with HIS Millenium Falcon! Don't question it.

People Dig Me

2010-08-16T19:06:00.000-07:00

Just when you thought you were the only one digging Third Kingdom, along comes a nice fellow who I will call "TJ" who saw fit that my blog was exactly the right platform to promote his school Westwood College.

So, here I am posting the link to Westwood College -- http://www.westwood.edu/

Based on my expertise of Universities (not really) and my thorough check of the site (I looked at the homepage), I thoroughly endorse Westwood College. So please visit the site, and what the hell, enroll. Already in college? Drop the fuck out already and matriculate your ass to Westwood.

Seriously, do it now or I'll call your parents.

You don't want that.

We're Off to Church? II: The Reckoning

2010-08-16T19:00:00.000-07:00

So yeah, we went to church yesterday.

I had planned to write about it yesterday, but it's taken me a day to process it.

Especially considering that I forced my wife to go. Yeah, go back and read that sentence again and then look outside to make sure it's not raining unicorns.

Initially, my wife was supposed to go to the market with a friend, but that fell through and I was like "so do you still want to go to that church?" Suddenly, we were in a marathon to get everyone (three women and me) dressed and out the door on time, which -- and I know this sounds sexist -- is kinda like the hardest thing in the world. Seriously, Houdini couldn't do it.

With literally 20 minutes before service starts and over 20 miles to travel, my wife, fully dressed, huffs down on the bed and says "maybe we just won't go." That's when my dumb ass says "we can make it." I have my reasons.

So, 21 minutes later (after driving through the rain no less), we arrived at church.

OK, "church" may be a strong word for where we went . . . let me explain.

First, we were greeted at the door by an older lesbian who told us where to place our umbrellas. That's not to say lesbians don't attend other churches, I'm sure they do, but not, you know, this obviously. This woman, like everyone else there, was dressed like they were heading out to the mall. Seriously, if you picked up a Whole Foods and shook it, these were the folks who would come falling out the doors -- White, 50 years old (or older) lots of shorts and sandals, ponytails and, I suspect, patchouille-scented natural deoderant.

The other reason why I wouldn't really call this place "church" is because there was no religious iconography -- anywhere. Not one cross, Jewish star or that moon thingy for Muslims. There were no bibles, no hymnals. But the thing I loved the most was -- there was no screaming. There's lots I don't like about the Black church experience, but most pale in comparison to my absolute loathing of the preaching style. I mean seriously dude, you have a microphone, I can HEAR you. And what's more, I understand English, so there's no need to repeat EVERY THING YOU SAY three and four times. Besides, all that screaming is disturbing my nap.

No, the "pastor" at this church was a 47-year-old Black woman with a un-hip afro that spoke like a college professor. There was no talk of "Gaawd" or veiled threats to non-believers, just a woman sharing a story about dealing with her son's growing independence. Naturally, this brought my wife, struggling with our youngest's pending kindergarten attendance, to near tears.

She was also moved to act outside of her comfort zone. You know that part of every church service where they ask new members to stand an introduce themselves? Well, my wife, a woman who avoids family gatherings due to social pressure, stood her bold ass up and introduced our family to a room of strangers. To say I was shocked is an understatement.

But that's part of the reason I pushed to go. She's had such a negative past with church and her baptist upbringing that I wanted her to have a good, non-pressure filled experience. And, I guess it worked. I mean she wants to go back.

Me? Eh, I realize sometimes you have to careful what you wish for. Yes, I hate all the spiritual bigotry involved at church, but MAN is it entertaining! Universalist Unitarians are very nice and very welcoming to a heathen family like us, but that doesn't make them fun to be around. God, I'm like a high school girl who disses the nice guy for the dick who never calls back.

Anyway, the real fireworks are soon to come. My wife told my mother-in-law that she found a church she likes, to which she replied by literally shouting "HALLELUJAH!" Just can't wait to hear what she shouts when she tells her that "church" was full of heathen hippies who don't so much as utter Jesus' name.

Till then . . .

We're Off to Church?

2010-08-08T17:07:00.000-07:00

There's soo much to talk about this week -- Gay marriage is kinda legal in California; the world's most popular heathen, Christopher Hitchens, is rebuking those praying for his health now that he has cancer -- but I don't want to talk about that stuff now. I want to discuss the fact that I was almost in church today.

By "almost," I mean my wife and I said that as soon as my eldest daughter stopped taking swimming lessons on Sundays, that we would try the local Unitarian Universalist Church -- you know, for shits and giggles. Their services start at 11am, exactly the same time our daughter's lessons are, or should I say, were. Last week marked her final swim lesson (she's at a Level 7 thank you very much) and today was pretty much wide open.

Yeah. . . we didn't make it. Not because we weren't thinking about it, it's just that we were asleep. No, we weren't sleeping until 11am, but we didn't get vertical till 9:30 and we have children who demand to be fed and tended to -- so selfish.

Truth is, I just don't think we're church going people. Yes, that seems pretty obvious because, well, you're reading this blog, right? First off, we don't have the right clothes. There's a certain look to Black middle class church-goers -- its somewhere between business casual and funeral. Seriously, they must have a fucking store, because I've never seen those clothes outside a church. We also don't have church faces, by which I mean, if someone lobs a load of bullshit at us, we tend to duck as opposed to fixing that serene smile on our faces and nod graciously.

But more than the niggling little fact that neither my wife or I consider ourselves Christians, I don't think we have the right temperament to be church-goers. We're more like "movie-goers" or "museum-goers" or "laying in the bed-goers."

At it's core, church is not conducive to quiet giggling, something my wife and I excel at. Pretty much every get-together is an opportunity for her and I to grab a corner and tee-hee about the proceedings -- weddings, baby showers, funerals (kidding -- sorta) -- yeah, good times.

But nothing about my church-going experience points to the fact that this would be deemed acceptable behavior. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's frowned upon. That is unless we whispered in tongues. That might be alright, certainly funnier.

However, I think we could get past that. We recently saw "Inception" and we barely spoke a word and I would love to go back and do that again.

No, I think the real issue is that church, while the epicenter of faith, is rarely the epicenter for questions. I'm not saying that right. You can ask plenty of questions in church, but the kind of questions that already fit into the accepted narrative. You don't go to church to question the very need to go to church, at least I don't think you do.

It's kind of like comic book conventions (something I have some experience with). While you can ask tons of questions about the outcome of a fight between Spider-Man and the Hulk, no one goes to ask "what the hell is up with all you nerds?" It just isn't kosher and what's more, I doubt the nerds would have a good answer, at least not one that would satisfy. What's up with all those nerds is that comic books transmit a specific geek frequency (a geek-uency if you will) that these costumed virgins are uniquely designed to pick up. So, you can ask till your blue in the face but I don't think that's going to get you the answers you want.

And while UU church is supposed to be all kumbya with all faiths and even non-faiths, I'm still not sure I've tuned in to the need to attend, no matter the script.

Oh well, if we go, you'll be the first to know.

WARNING: Everything is Evil

2010-08-01T12:18:00.000-07:00

I do not make it a habit of hanging around racial conspiracists so I am woefully ignorant of the lingo. That being said, the term "International Jewry" is by far one the funniest things I've ever had the pleasure of reading.

What is "International Jewry?" I suppose it has something to do with a world-wide cabal of Jewish people who are trying to . . . do . . . something . . . evil? Clearly Oliver Stone thinks this is true or did after he apologized.

But maybe he was on to something. Clearly, Jewish people are looking to brainwash the world's children with images in TV and film. Not convinced? Think of all the Jewish superheroes we have. . . oh wait, I mean, think of all the clearly Jewish news anchors . . . OK fuck it, they have Jon Stewart -- need I say more.

Clearly I do need to say more -- actually, I let this bat shit crazy video say it for me:

Ah, it's all starting to make sense. "International Jewry" (snicker) is clearly responsible for the Teletubbies -- a show the courageous Jerry Falwell proved was promoting the gay lifestyle to kids. And now, with Yo Gabba Gabba, they're stepping it up a notch to turn them into Jews. Clearly, the master plan is to slowly convert our children into . . . Harvey Fierstein. BRILLIANT and eeeeevilllll!

Seriously though, after watching this I came away confused. It seems the goal of these scheming Jewish overlords is to convince everyone that there is only one god. Present company excluded, hasn't that boat pretty much sailed? Granted, I don't see how one god is any more plausable than several, but its been clear for a long time that the world's believers have become very monogamous. At this point, multiple gods is the Pepsi Clear of theologies.

But I tell you what must be great about being religiously deluded -- its that you believe EVERYTHING could be true. Witches, warlocks, demons, I mean Christians not only allow for these things to exist along side Starbucks and chinese food, but they are SCARED of them! But when your faith is predicated on zippo evidence, then you hardly need a smoking broomstick to convince of the reality of witches. Instead, you lean on the popularity of a kids book as evidence that the devil is indeed taking over the world. I mean, decoding hidden messages, solving word puzzles and uncovering conspiracies sounds like a blast. It's also a bunch of horseshit. I'm not saying that there are no conspiracies but when it comes to religious conspiracies, much like religious reasoning, I find it circular and lacking logic.

Case in point: in high school, I had a Catholic friend who asked me what I thought of the pope. I said "not much." She responded by saying that the Pope is one of the most powerful people in the world. Now, I'm not an idiot. Any guy who's convinced hundreds of millions of people that he's God's secretary clearly holds sway . . . but not over me. His reign requires I believe in the bible, and therefore he's just a dude who looks like he raided Lady Gaga's wardrobe. He's also, in this case, a former Nazi but hey, as long as he prays to the right god, he's cool, right?

This is something the religious conspriacy theorists simply don't get. The threat is only real to YOU. And forgive me if I'm not shitting my pants. Its not because you haven't laid out a convincing arguement (you haven't) but its because you're assuming we're on the same page -- that we're both Christians.

Oh for FUCK's Sake!

2010-07-26T21:09:00.000-07:00

Bristol Palin, the teen-mom daughter of Alaska's greatest governor Sarah Palin, is re-engaged to her ex-fiance/Playgirl model Levi "Duh" Johnston.

This is not what I'm blogging about.

THIS is what I'm blogging about -- according to Reuters, the two are "living separately and practicing abstinence and would likely get married within the next month."

Really? REALLY?

Who is this for? I mean, yes, I get that Bristol revealed her re-engagement to US Weekly BEFORE her mother, so I suppose she believes herself to be a role model of some sort. And hey, maybe she is, I don't know a lot of teen mothers so she could be the fucking Michelle Obama of 18 year old girls with kids, but last time I checked no one was looking to Bristol Palin as a morality compass.

But EVEN if they were, what's the lesson she's teaching? Granted, I know the Palins are a God-fearing people and probably frown on pre-marital sex but abstinence AFTER child birth is like drinking a diet milkshake after eating a KFC Double Down. The irony is so thick you couldn't suck it up with a straw.

All of this points to Christianity's fetishistic obsession with female virginity. Christians are so uptight about broken hymens that Jesus mom couldn't even get laid. Talk about not being able to meet his mother's standards, could you imagine if Jesus HAD tried to wet his willie? He'd be like "that's going to grow back, right?" Even my wife, a woman who willingly married a heathen and who tossed her pure flower to the wind at the age of . . . let's just say she wasn't driving yet -- said she felt a certain existential relief the first time we had sex as a married couple because, as she put it, it felt "legal." Now that she was bound in "holy matrimony," sex was OK. This a problem on two levels.

1. We had LOTS of sex before we got married soooo . . . . was all that "illegal?"
2. There was very little about our matrimony that was "Holy." We literally got married in a municipal office in Virginia. It was about as holy as a chalupa.

We place such a high price on female virginity that even those who have lost it, not just through sex but through effin CHILDBIRTH are still trying to reclaim it in the name of being a "good girl." I had a conversation with a female co-worker who claimed she was experiencing her "second virginity" because she hadn't had sex in several months. She was desperate to reclaim her prepubescent status as "untouched" either to appear "good as new" to potential buyers or in the hopes that Jesus would get short-term amnesia and forget about the men she'd already slept with.

It's really re-goddamn-diculous and honestly, I blame the Christians which shouldn't be a shock to anyone reading this. And look, I'm man enough to say I don't know which religion technically started this premium on female chastity, but the Christians have really stepped up to own it. And with ownership comes the failures, which in this case, usually comes from their biggest supporters.

Kids Say the Darndest Things!

2010-07-18T17:56:00.000-07:00

(I couldn't find a great image for this post, so I chose this one which KINDA fits, but hey, you don't come here for the pictures. You come for the text baby! Read on.)

Fridays come with ritual.

On my way home from work, I call and order a large Pepperoni pizza (I've even divined the perfect point on my route home to call in my order so that's its ready when I get there.) My children meet me in the garage with an odd mixture of happiness and disappointment. They're happy that I've brought pizza, but upset that it's not Papa Johns -- a brand my wife hates. My youngest, then claims that (despite years of evidence to the contrary) she doesn't eat pepperoni. I reassure her that she does and we go back and forth like that until she's in tears and begrudgingly eats the pizza. Seriously, this is every week.

We then settle down in our bedroom, my wife and I on our bed, the kids on the floor and eat gooey, pepperoni pizza as we watch a "family show" -- usually the "Avatar" TV show on Netflix.

Last Friday was no different, except that my youngest said something that would make any Christian weep.

Somehow, my wife and I were discussing the bible -- honestly not sure why.

And my youngest, who has a talent for keying in on conversations she should not be a part of, pipes up.

"Hey! I know the bible!"

It was as if she had just realized we had friends in common. Her face was beaming with five-year old pride.

That's not the bad part.

"Oh yeah, honey," I said, feeling a blog entry brewing in her next response. "What is the bible?"

Suddenly, she became a bit less enthused. Perhaps she hadn't anticipated being put on the spot. Maybe she didn't expect this parent-administered theological pop quiz as her eyes were now cast to the floor and her voice had gone all small.

"Um, isn't that the book with all the rules? The one that tells you all the stuff you can't do?"

Uh, yeah. Pretty much on the spot description.

OK, not really, but sadly my daughter's interpretation of the bible is American Christanity's biggest problem -- perception.

Kind of like Republicans, Christians are known as the party of "No." Actually, they're more like "NO!" Sex? "No!", Muslims? "Nope!", Gays? "Noooooooooo!," Harry Potter? "No thanks." Nerds?"HELL no!" Point is, powerful mantras like "love your neighbor as yourself" have been replaced by "It's Adam and Eve, Not Adam and Steve." While much funnier and rhythmic, it doesn't have that universal appeal you expect from a 2,000-year old religion. Sadly, they have chosen to define their faith by highlighting what they won't stand for instead of what they do. Thus, Christians are defined by the rules they break. So every time a senator gets caught in a gay scandal -- which I like to call "Tuesdays" -- the general public points to the behavior and calls Christianity a fraud filled with hypocritical blow hards who want every one to follow rules they themselves are not willing to follow.

I mean, if my five year old daughter, who can't even recall what she eats from from week to week, is getting this message, I highly suggest Christians consider a new marketing plan. I highly suggest R. Kelly's. That guy pissed on a school girl on tape and he's still got fans -- female ones. Now that's a fucking miracle.

Is Kanye a Devil Worshipper?

2010-07-11T14:20:00.000-07:00

You know how I feel about the devil by now. It's well documented in this blog, but that sneaky fucker keeps creeping back into my life and, apparently, into hip hop.

Below is a video put out by Tetragramation Films (read: crazy people) and it is apparently part of a 13-part SERIES of delusional exposes on the growing amount of satanists and devil worshippers who roc the mic.

This latest entry turned its focus on little-known rapper Kanye West and his performance at the 2010 BET Awards. This is remarkable as Kanye is one of the most vocal rapping christians I'm aware of ("Jesus Walks" is a classic as is the religious-tinged "Spaceship" -- my personal fave). NOTE: I did not call Kanye a "Christian Rapper." One, I'm sure Christian rappers would be offended since Kanye has such a potty mouth. But mostly because christian rappers categorically suck as does the music they produce. And before you ask, NO I have not listened to all Christian hip-hop and NO I will not "check out" this one group that's "really good and not as bad as the others." To quote the Karate Kid, "There is no Christian Rap in this dojo!"

Anywho, take a look at the video and enjoy, I'll be back with a few words after the insanity.

That's grade A crazy, right? I mean, it's heartfelt, technically proficient and sincere nuttery. That title card alone with its "encore edition" lets you know these people are certifiable.

Honestly, I could spend all day talking about this thing, but since you seem to think you have more important things to do, I'll just address a few of the Kanye warning signs.

1. Like any performer who is posing on top of a mountain, Kanye is back lit with his arms out to the side in what the film refers to as the Christ-pose. Apparently, Kanye is "making himself God." Man, if it were only that easy. Actually, I wouldn't argue with this "fact." Kanye's public persona is given to fits of ego and I have no doubt that Kanye may indeed see himself as a Christ figure but not literally. But there's one thing I do want to mention, Jesus didn't exactly INVENT that pose, you know. It's not like he walked around that way (well, except for that one time). He was sort of forced into that position -- as were untold thousands who were also crucified -- if you believe the story. All one has to do is watch someone sink three-pointer and you'll see that in moments of triumph everyone does the "ta-da bitches!" pose with the arms out as if to say -- "it's all right here baby."

2. They next take issue with his choice of red for his wardrobe, which clearly represents the devil. The film even refers to a passage from Isaiah to legitimize the claim. Well, I went looking and I didn't see anything about the devil being or wearing red. Still, modern American culture definitely sees red as the devil, but I've watched enough Discovery channel (which has a very atheistic streak lately) to know that the popular representation of the devil as red is a fairly recent phenomenon. So either the Devil's marketing team is doing a great job or this film's a little off the mark.

3. Actually, I'll get away from Kanye for a minute to focus on the other stars mentioned in the video. One is Alicia Keys whose reference to the phoenix gets in her in hot water because the phoenix is connected to some Egyptian God who used to roll with Satan or some shit. She also plugs a hotline for Gulf victims which contains four 9, which when turned upside are 6's. And you thought 666 was bad, wait till you see 666 . . .6. (BTW, listening to an excellent podcast called Radio Lab where they dug through garbage from ancient Egypt and found lost bible manuscripts that refer to the mark of the beast as 616 -- so take that dummies.)

Ok, so this is what I want to say to Tetragramation Films and all the loonies who follow them. You won! Christianity has become such a part of our daily lives, media, storytelling that it's very cornerstones of faith have become nationwide, ubiquitous cliches. Hell, I say "swear to God" or "God forbid" all the time and don't mean it.

You don't have to believe in the Bible to "get" the "Matrix" movies which are FILLED with Christian allegories. Nor do you have to believe in the devil to know that wearing a red suit and standing on top of a fake mountain will cause a stir. Like Lady Gaga (another accussed of Satanism), Kanye's is BRILLIANT at pushing buttons and I'm sure is very clear that his lyrics, outfit and performance would be cause for this type of religious knee-jerk reaction. At the end of the day, the Bible has a lot of great stories in it and Christians need to accept that they resonate with EVERYONE, believers and non-believers. Trouble is, they can't really claim ownership to the messiah story, pose or any other accessories anymore than Black folks can claim rock and roll. When you sell your car, you can't tell the new owner how to drive it.

Now, having said that. I'm not ruling out that Kanye might be a devil worshipper. He's a Catholic afterall and if there's anyone I know who believes in the devil more than Baptists, it's Catholics. The irony here is, the very same people who warn the world against Satanism are really the only ones who can actually practice it. You can't worship something you don't belive in. Were Kanye a heathen like me, you could rest assurred all the devil posturing would only be for show.

UPDATE: I Think Jewish People are Great

2010-07-07T18:15:00.000-07:00

I'm a genius.

Only a genius schedules a dental appointment on a federal holiday. To be fair, I scheduled it with my "vacation brain" -- the brain that basically runs on auto pilot through your life before you hit the road (in our case, Myrtle Beach).

I was getting dressed (reluctantly) when my wife was like "you should call them to make sure they're actually open -- it is July 5." Smart thinking,.

I called them and the receptionist picked up the phone (reluctantly). Holy shit, they were open.

So anyway, I went in to the mostly empty office. To say they were less then ecstatic to be there is not just an understatement but a lie -- they looked fucking pissed, like kids in detention on Saturday.

I'm led to the chair to get a filling fixed and commence with the small talk with the dental hygenist.

Me -- "I'm shocked you guys are open today."

Her -- "Yea, well that's what happens when you work for a Jew." She patted me on the shoulder and walked away.

PAUSE

I have experienced racism before. Like clear-cut "I hate you nigger" racism. I've had dogs sicced on me. Cops called -- the whole nine. I even experienced racism that wasn't aimed at me (long story short, the cafeteria menu at my old gig used pictures of sleeping bandidos to represent Hispanic Food Week on the menu).

But I wasn't prepared for anti semitism -- this coming from a guy who (yes, I'm going to say) is best friends with a Jewish guy. See there, I could have said a "Jew" but that word just doesn't sit right with me. That's how typically sensitive I am.

And yet, in the bald face of clear anti semtism, I froze.

I froze for a couple of reasons.

1. I simply could not believe she had the balls to say some shit like that. Especially, considering that her "jew boss" might be somewhere in the vicinity.
2. Why did this woman (a complete stranger) feel I was cool with her casual racism? Do I look an anti semetic sympathizer? Do I resemble Mel Gibson?

When I told my wife (after the initial shock wore off), she seemed to have a very quick and sadly realistic answer to why Eva Bruan the hygenist felt so comfortable sharing.

"Because most Black folks don't like Jewish people." -- She thinks "Jews" is an icky word, too.

Now, I don't know that I would say "most" but I have run into many Black folks who have less than nice things to say about our semetic brothers and sisters. Having lived in suburban Philadelphia, I grew up with a lot of them and, in our family, we grew to envy their sense of community.

So why am I bringing this up in what is otherwise a religion-based blog? Because I believe that people's issue with "The Jew" (that feels better in sarcastic quotes) is the whole "they killed Jesus thing." Need more evidence?

Got it.

After watching "Passion of the Christ," one of my wife's relatives said -- without hesitation -- "that's why no one likes them now."

Right. This from a woman who would chop off her left arm to shop in stores that 50 years ago would not let her piss in the alley behind them.

Point being, people who would otherwise find Jewish people delightful have been saddled with a prejudice brought on by, what I would say, is a made up story. That's like me hating white bald guys because Lex Luthor is such a dick.

Man, sometimes religion sucks.

UPDATE: Yes, I attended the million man march and I attest to this day that it was an important day for brothers, but there's a reason why the Nation of Islam didn't see a huge influx of members after that. Here's Farrakhan talking about evil "Jews" and sharecropping Negroes.

For Hip Hop News & Entertainment at DimeWars.Com

Who Says Jesus Doesn't Like "The Gay?"

2010-06-17T10:52:00.000-07:00

Who knew Jesus was a big Village People fan?

Apparently these three people did.

Though I gotta say, Vanilla Ice's brother on the end is making less of an "A" than an "O" shape, but hey, if the J-Man starts a YMCA hand gesture, you stop what you're doing and jump in. No questions asked.

Sadly, just moments (or maybe years) after this photo was taken Jesus was struck by lightning and burned down. Was it God's wrath for Jesus' love for heavily costumed and mustachioed homosexuals or did he ignite in a disco inferno?

We may never know.

Shout out to smokingsection.uproxx.com for the story.

God Hates Grapes!

2010-06-15T18:11:00.000-07:00

When I started this blog, I did so with so with some trepidation.

I've worked with Black folks pretty much every day since graduating from college (a Black university no less) and what I've learned is that we take religion pretty seriously. Not that we're all theologists. In fact, when it comes to belief in a higher being (and let's be real, we're talking about Jesus here), its more fear than purely intellectual pursuit. Fear of pissing Jesus off and fear of people who aren't afraid of pissing Jesus off.

I like to think I'm a smart guy and therefore keep company with smart people (not that I don't entertain dummies, in fact, its pretty easy if you have a paper clip and can whistle) and I've seen people with graduate degrees step away from me for fear that my casual atheism might bring down lightning -- cause, you know, Jesus shoots lightning from the bolts in his hands (I'm willing to bet there are some folks backing away from their computer screens after reading that).

Anyway, I say all that to say, Black people are scared of God in the same way I used to be afraid of my pet rabbit. Yes, it was cute and cuddly and I felt great that I had it in my life, but it also had really sharp teeth and had its own ideas as what to constituted "randomly biting the shit out of my finger."

Where am I going with this?

Grapes.

Still confused? You should be.

So, it was roughly 10 years ago and I was working at start up .com company. We were all young, working for shit money and high on the lure of becoming instant millionaires in the ever expanding universe we understood as the digital revolution.

There was this one guy I worked with, Stu (not his real name, like you give a shit) who was some sort of pseudo born-again Christian. I say pseudo because he was also responsible for hiring our first stripper intern. And that's not because he was acting all Jesus-like and mingling with the poor and shunned, it was because he was acting all Diddy-like and hanging out in strip clubs and recruiting "talent." QUICK ASIDE: The intern, who had an ass like a tomato and made the simple act of sitting in a chair obscene, claimed that she was NOT a stripper but a waitress at the strip club. Plausible, yes. But as one good friend said. If Arnold Schwarzenegger told you he worked at the gym but was only a cashier, would you believe him? Me neither.

Anywho, the high and mighty Stu observes me eating lunch one day and remarks -- no shit -- "you know real Christians don't eat grapes."

Now, first of all -- what the fuck!?! Gay marriage, sure. But grapes?

Honestly, I don't think I responded in words just a blank stare of incredulity.

"Yeah, the bible says Christians shouldn't eat grapes. I haven't eaten grapes for years now."

Normally, I would question such a dubious claim. I mean if someone says "You know Latinos fart gold dust," you'd think the very least you'd do is ask for a source. But I knew Stu was crazier than a shit-house rat, so I responded with my own piece of shocking information.

"Well," I quipped as I popped another juicy grape in my mouth, "it's a good thing I'm not a Christian."

BOO-YAH -- My first public admission of what, at the time, didn't really feel like a secret. More like a well-played "fuck you" card. Stu, like the others I've told, was shocked. In his head, there was no space for non-Christianized Black folks.

What I loved about the moment was not the admission, because honestly, it didn't feel like an admission, just a statement of fact. I loved that I pulled all the wind out of Stu's sails. He was looking to set me up, to prey upon my assumed Christian guilt and make me feel one step closer to hell -- which feels like a dick move, no? I mean, what if I was a Christian? What was his goal? Is this how Christians talk to each other?

Ironically, it was after this moment of clear PWN-attitude that I retreated into my heathen cave, like a scared turtle.

PS: Stu was not just talking shit. Right there in the bible, Numbers 6:2-3 it says: 'If a man or woman wants to make a special vow, a vow of separation to the LORD as a Nazirite, he must abstain from wine and other fermented drink and must not . . drink grape juice or eat grapes or raisins.'"

Sonofabitch!

Uh, What? Um, Okaaayyy . . . .

2010-05-31T09:58:00.000-07:00

Unlike like the rest of the civilized world, I do NOT have HBO.

I haven't always been without it. In fact, I've had HBO longer than I've been having sex, seriously. But, with the advent of Netflix and the invention of credit card debt, I had to make some hard choices over the last several months including the cancellation of my near and dear friend, HBO.

One of my weekly pleasures has been watching Bill Maher's Real Time mostly because he's the only prime-time atheist who says a lot of things I think. Though, I have to say he has a venom in him I don't always understand.

Nevertheless, I now troll for Real Time clips on youtube and podcasts and I bumped into this amazing piece video of a fellow atheist who has more in common with Sarah Palin than Richard Dawkins. Enjoy.

Amazing, no?

So on one hand, I am totally in Bill's corner that our media (be if liberal or FOX News) is not critical enough of religion. As an atheist/agnostic, I know that American society is generally a faithful one. Now, the media seem critical of parts of religion -- especially those parts that lead to murder, incivility and molestation -- but overall its all in when it comes to believing.

On the other . . . you know what, I don't agree with old girl at all. I was gonna give her props for thinking outside her atheist box and note media bias, but Bill's point is stronger. No one in media, or anywhere else for that matter, questions the need or validity of supernatural faith.

However, there is one thing she apparently believes that I DO think is true. I believe President Obama is an atheist. But that is for another post.

Goodnight Sweet Rodent

2010-04-27T19:52:00.000-07:00

Death has struck again.

Last Thursday night, as I was dutifully picking up Potbelly sandwiches and chips for the whole family, I received a distressing phone call from home.

"Daddy," my eldest daughter says, "I have really, really, really bad news to tell you. Spotty died."

Spotty is one of our two guinea pigs. Of the two, she was the oldest. Fat and lazy, she was the rodent equivalent of what I imagine Ernest Borgnine is like. A little ornery but really just too tired to do anything about it. While Bobbi (the other guinea pig) still runs from us every time we approach the cage, Spotty barely flinched. After agreeing to letting my daughters take Spotty out of her cage to play, I would often find her, in an empty room, perched on the second level of a Barbie dream house, with just the saddest look of humiliation a rodent of her size could muster. I mean, on one hand, Spotty seemed relieved the children had gone. And on the other, her beady eyes seemed to be saying "Really? This is my life? Could someone just put me back in my fucking cage so I can hide in peace?"

Well Spotty, your days of humiliation are finally over. Unless, you consider being buried in a Cheddar Harvest Sun Chips bag humiliating, in which case your days of humiliation are still plenty (or at least until the nifty compostable bag disintegrates).

However, what surprised me most were my daughters' reactions to Spotty's demise. They both cried. A lot. The eldest's tears seemed genuine. I mean she loved that pig and I guess I sort of underestimated that. Spotty was not our first guinea pig to die and her reaction to the first one's death was no more remorseful than mourning the end of an episode of "Two and a Half Men." But this time was different.

My youngest daughter, on the other hand, was caught in this strange limbo between morbid curiosity -- playing pint-size funeral director and peering intently as I slid/stuffed Spotty's cooling corpse into the snack bag -- and mimicked grief which ebbed and flowed depending on her proximity to her sister.

After putting Spotty in her "coffin," I hurried outside to dig a small grave in our back yard (mind you, it was dinner time and my turkey and cheese wasn't getting any warmer on the kitchen counter). And here's where it got interesting.

As you may know my father died almost a year ago. And instead of a burial and what not, we had him cremated and threw a memorial party in his memory. While it was great for us adults, my children never got to say good bye to him. He was just gone one day and I'm not really sure if they've recovered yet. And since we keep it real heathen-like in my house, we have neither confirmed nor denied the concept of heaven so their grasp on life after death is tenuous at best, I regret. So, as we tearfully eulogized Spotty, my youngest, said "and also good-bye to Pop Pop."

Aww man. That almost killed me. But I patted down the earth and kept it moving, somewhat relieved that she had a chance to say what she needed to say.

He's Just Not that Into Me

2010-04-11T09:18:00.000-07:00

So I called him.

Akeem. The man who only a couple of months ago deemed me the "winner" of a bible. The man who wrote his name and number in it and everything. I called him.

And you know what? He didn't have a fucking clue who I was.

Sucks, right?

I mean, here I was, thinking I was special. A bright, articulate heathen who had caught his eye that morning in February. But as he repeatedly asked how I knew him, it was clear I meant nothing to him. I guess he goes around handing out bibles all the time.

After recounting our time together, he said "oohhh yeah" in that way that made it clear he still didn't remember me but didn't want to be a dick.

Nevertheless, I didn't let this rejection stop me. I had questions for Akeem and I wasn't going to hang up until I got them.

"So, I'm calling because I wanted to know why, out of all the houses you surveyed, I got the bible?"

"Well, I belong to a 7th Day Adventist Church in the area and we were doing out reach and helping people out. We gave it to you because we wanted you to check it out. Not to win you over. You can check out our church. We respect your beliefs."

First off, 7th Day Adventist? I didn't know they did house calls. And here I was assuming he was a Jehovah's Witness. Seems I don't really know Akeem at all.

Second, while his statement seems disingenuous -- if you respect my beliefs (or lack thereof) why convince me that I "won" a bible with the hopes that I will "check it out?" -- he didn't seem all that concerned with me either.

I mean, maybe Akeem's up to his neck in heathens and I'm just one more on the pile. But something tells me he just wasn't all that concerned with converting me, which, kinda pissed me off. Since I started with this whole dating analogy, I'll stay the course with an even creepier analogy. Let's say I've got big tits. Really, nice big ones that look like heaven in this low cut shirt I just bought. Now, some guy waves and doesn't even acknowledge the heaving masterpiece below my neck. Is it flattering that at least ONE guy didn't start his conversations with my cleavage? Yes. Am I a bit suspicious and put off that he didn't sneak a peek at my bountiful bazooms? You damn skippy.

I say all this to say, I like tits. Wait, no. I'm saying this because while I don't want to be singled out for my lack of religion, if you're gonna look at it (and give me a prize for it), than shit yeah, I wanna talk about it. Don't give me the "wow, I didn't even see your gi-normous breasts falling out of your shirt." It's dishonest and I won't stand for it.

Anyway, Akeem eventually invited me to a class about prophecy, but you could tell he was totally half-assing it. You know, if I went he'd be all "oh hey, glad you came" and then giggle with his Jesus-buddies "Oh my god, I can't believe he came. I'm out of here."

Dude, I need to take a nap.

The Visit I've Been Waiting For

2010-02-13T15:47:00.000-08:00

Not five minutes ago, I saw an older Asian man and a tall, younger African guy approaching our door.

"Jehovah's Witnesses," my wife said almost dissmissively, as if she'd seen this movie before. And to be fair, she has. Like, a million times.

Nevertheless, if two men approach my door, I like to be there to open it.

"Hi, I'm David" the Asian guy offers his hand. "And this is [Joe]." In actuality his name was something more African but I can't remember it.

David explained he was here to do a survey and asked if I had time for it, which, I said I did just HOPING this had something to do with Jesus.

"Ok, do you and your family currently belong to a church?" (YAHTZEE!)

"No, we don't."

"Do you believe that world would be a better place if we all followed the word of the Bible?"

"No, not really." Now, to be honest I DO think the world would be better if everyone followed the golden rule. But that's like one paragraph in a sea of fairy tales and troublesome passages -- killing menstruating women and what not. I would feel socially irresponsible if I thought the world would pick that one nugget out the shit pile AND get it right. Besides Christianity has been around for thousands of years and followed by damn near a third of the planet and, for my money, haven't proved to be such a great deal.

I really got to give it to David and Joe, they didn't visibly flinch though I bet almost everyone who answered that particular question says something in the neighborhood of "yes." Even for the heathen, you cannot escape the thrill of blasphemy when saying something so contradictory to the American faith narrative. I almost didn't say it, but I hate lying more than appeasement.

The big question: "What religion were you raised with, as a child?"

"None," I said (my chest almost perciptablly puffed out with heathen pride). That's right Dave, you're not dealing with some run-of-the-mill "spiritual/non-religious" Johhny Six Pack. This is the real McCoy.

This time David, did do a slight double-take, followed by a refrain.

"So, no religion?"

"Right."

"Well, is there anything else I can do for you? Pray with you or pray for you?"

An odd question, no? I mean, if someone told me they were a vegetarian I'd either have to be hard of hearing or convinced otherwise to then ask them if they wanted to share a cheese steak.

"Nah, I'm good." I said, rather pleased with myself.

A couple handshakes and the two were back on their way, off to knock on more doors. Me? I felt satisfied that two of God's errand boys were witness to the civility and NORMALITY of the neighborhood heathen.

And that was it . . . or was it?!?!

I shit you not, 30 minutes later (yes, it's taken me that long to write this entry), there's a tentative knock on the front door. I rush downstairs, hoping to see the snow-delayed mailman with our Netflix movies for the long weekend.

No, it was Joe.

"Hi, we finished our survey and we determined that you were the winner of the free bible." And dude hands me a black, New King James bible.

I said "Thanks," as he skipped off with lollipop dreams of me sitting down in the kitchen and being instantly converted in his head.

What I SHOULD have said, was "Oh, no thanks, I've already got a copy." Which is true. I have a New International version in the guest room. I even marked the funny parts in yellow highlighter. Alas my tongue was so quick.

So now what? Am I really the biggest heathen in this neighborhood? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm flattered, just shocked. Do I get to wear a scarlet H on my shirt. Ooh, what if there's a tshirt: "Two out of Two Jehovah's Witnesses Agree That I'm Going to Hell."

Sweet.

PROLOGUE: I actually opened the bible and saw the dedication page. Apparently, the bible was gifted to a guy named Michael from his mom and dad. "He gave you his own bible," my wife said with the tears almost falling off her tongue. Admittedly, the sentiment took all the cynical wind out of my sails. If "Joe" was really Michael than I would feel really bad. Good thing he wasn't. I flipped to the back of the Bible and saw another name handwritten there -- "Akeem." THAT was Joe's name. I knew it was something more African sounding. I guess Michael donated his bible to Akeem to pass out to random heathens. Who knows? Point is Akeem is the one who gave it to me and, what's more, HE LEFT HIS PHONE NUMBER! I just got booked evangelical style. Thing is, I WILL call him. I've had plenty of true believers reach out, but this time I'm going to take up the gauntlet. I'm going to call Akeem. Like, in a couple days. Not immediately, I don't want him to think I'm some sort of spiritual slut.

I'll keep you posted

Why Gay Marriage Should Be Legal

2010-02-04T10:36:00.000-08:00

Before you behold this most holy spectacle, may I submit that this man is not at all interested in kissing the bride. In fact, the thought of locking lips with his blushing bride seems to make him throw up in his mouth. I further submit that his religious fit is just a cover-up to the complete misery he's imagining his life will be for the next 20-30 years as he alternates nights swallowing back bile as he "makes out" with his wife and nights where he lets his hair down at the local watering/glory hole.

I'm not a gambling man, but I bet dollars to donuts (a tasty wager) that this guy is a choir director (if you know what I mean) who's marrying this lovely beard to avoid those nasty rumors.

Enjoy!

Incredulity . . . HOOOOOOOO!

2010-01-30T13:22:00.000-08:00

WARNING: If you're looking to engage me in a serious discussion regarding the legal dealings of Satan, I can only do my best not to laugh directly in your face.

I should have posted that warning on my forehead two seconds before I chose to engage in the rather interesting conversation I had with a co-worker yesterday.

Nancy and I were working off site yesterday (sounds offical huh?) and she offered me a ride back to the office, which was lovely cause it's cold as shit in DC (currently, my children are playing hide and seek in 3-4 inches of falling snow) and I really didn't want to take another seven city-block hike back to the metro. Minutes later, we're in her car and I, very openly start judging her based on her CD collection. Like most Americans, she owns several Jay-Z albums including his last sub-par opus "Blueprint 3."

That's when she hits me with:

"I love Jay-Z but I'm a little worried about him."

"Why?"

"Those rumors that he's a devil worshipper."
(Didn't hear those rumors? Go here for the madness)

At THAT moment I should have kept my mouth shut or changed the subject, but I didn't. I couldn't. I was compelled to stay. Compelled to disobey (movie fans should know that line). I had the overwhelming desire to expose Nancy's belief in the devil and leave it ruins along side other broken myths like Santa Claus and good Maxwell albums. So . . . I continued.

No need to recount each line of our back and forth -- her insisting upon the possibility of Jay-Z's Satan worshipping and I speaking sanely -- since it all ends up at the turning point, the question I couldn't resist and the answer I knew was coming.

"Do you," I asked, "believe in the devil?"

"Yes," she said without hesistation.

Yes

"And, I assume, you also believe one can actually sell your soul to the devil?" In reality, I'm sure my face did not ACTUALLY look like Count Dracula licking his chops over some poor peasant girl's neck, but, goddamn it, it felt that way.

"Yes I do"

Oh god yes

"Why, you don't believe in the devil?" She shot back.

And that's when I let her have it. The whole kit and caboodle, the whole nine yards, the two piece and biscuit. It was the "I Have a Dream" speech for heathens. Oh, you should have BEEN there.

To put it mildly, she was flabbergasted and responded with the usual litany of half-questions:
"What do you . . ."
"How do you . . . "
"Where do you get your morals . . . "

"Well," she said, "you DO believe in God right?"

A good question that I don't have a clear answer for. If I do believe in "something" it's a universal force barely withing human comprehension -- like gravity. But mostly that question is about my belief in a paternalistic, Christian God -- something I do not believe in.

"So you've never been brought to your knees, huh?" She posited, somewhat smugly.

What she meant was, you don't believe in God because you've never had to. If the conditions were just shitty enough, I would become a believer. It's the spiritual equivalent of "you just haven't found the right guy yet." Sounds like a bad proposition -- "You'll love God when you've lost your hands in a dangerous pinocle game and your wife leaves you for Steve Buscemi." It's the "last resort God" or the old testament God who fucked over Job's life to prove to the devil (who God MADE) that he still was loyal to him. All in all, not the best pitch to make when slinging faith.

To be clear, I felt a little aggressed upon and shot back.

"You mean like losing my father last May?"

That shut her up.

I can't be sure why I was so intent on arguing over the merits of faith, but I was a dog with a bone -- quite rude considering she was giving me a ride. But I couldn't help it. I almost felt the need to apologize, but I didn't.

If there's a prayer circle in my office on Monday, I'll know I should have said "sorry."

I Have No Words (OK, maybe a couple)

2010-01-10T16:07:00.000-08:00

I know, right?

At first you're like, "what is that?" Because most of your brain just cannot fathom that what you're seeing is real.

But that little part of your brain that sees sex everywhere -- hot dogs, bananas, folded laundry (just me?) -- whispers in your ear "that's a jesus dildo."

Honestly, I don't have much to say about this -- mostly because my mom reads this blog -- but I tip my athiest/agnostic hat to the good people at divine-interventions.com (tee-hee) for having the pure, testicular fortitude to create the "Jackhammer Jesus."

Think you got the gumption to see more -- OH, there's more -- click right here.

As you were.

Ben Stein isn't Very Bright

2010-01-09T15:30:00.000-08:00

I was working out this morning (it's a new year, right?) and, since the children have lost/hidden my remote, I was passively forced to watch Ben Stein's documentary "Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed." I actually only saw the last 30 minutes of it, but that was enough to fuel this latest entry of gold.

So, if you're unaware, the film is a defense of Intelligent Design, the concept that life on earth was designed by some unseen hand and not the random happenings of evolution. And while many of its proponents claim it has nothing to do with religion, that's a farce. It's like a guy telling a woman her really nice ass has nothing to do with him wanting to grab it. In my opinion, and apparently the rest of the scientific world, Intelligent Design is the religious community's way of shoehorning God into our textbooks.

And, just so we're clear. I'm not 100% sold on evolution in the sense that there was a time when all scientists agreed the earth was flat or that Sandra Bullock was a reason to go to movies. Point being: what is fact one day is false the next. Ask the brontosaurus. That said, I put my FAITH in the science of evolution as a good answer to how life on this planet happens. If for nothing else, scientists don't fuck up my weekends by knocking on my doors and forcing me to hide behind my couch.

Anyway, when I turn the movie on Ben Stein (the first evangelical Jew I've ever heard of) is touring a Nazi concentration camp. Why? Because apparently Hitler believed in Darwinism and therefore exterminated millions of "inferior" people. So, there you have it, following Darwin leads to you becoming an ethnic-cleansing lunatic so evil that the sight of your mustache alone makes people pause. And with science out of the way, the only example to follow will be religion and we all know no one ever got killed or harmed in the name of faith.

(ironic dramatic pause)

But Stein's just getting warmed up. His REAL argument is that denying the discussion of intelligent design in academia is akin to the evils of the Berlin Wall. And sure enough, the movie starts flashing black and white images of people secreting over the barrier so they too can learn about Intelligent Design. One incredulous ID researcher says (I'm paraphrasing, but not much): "They've pretty much said that religion and science will always be separate. This is what the Academy of Science is saying. So that sort of ends the debate before it gets started doesn't it?!?" Yes, it does. Thank you. Religion is not science. Just like puppies aren't cookies. Maybe you like both of them, but one is for petting and one is for eating (unless you're in China).

This all builds up the climax of the film -- a rousing speech by Stein to a room full of, what looks like to me, the same defiantly-happy crowds you see at a Christian Rock concerts (their zeal is almost violent). The imagery suddenly becomes very Michael Bay-ish -- saturated colors, slow motion waving flags, Megan Fox leaning on motorcycles -- as Stein's call for freedom is, I shit you not, intercut with a speech from Ronald Reagan about the Berlin Wall. Seriously, it was like right-wing porn. It could only have been topped if Billy Ray Cyrus rode in on a deer and then shot that deer with a Miller Lite rifle. But I digress.

At the end of the day, neither science or religion do a good job of answering the question: how did it all start. I throw in with science because at least they allow for themselves being wrong. Believers are not as flexible. You cannot question things. It is, by definition, the opposite of science.

I don't know how to end this post, so I'll just stop typing.

Brit Hum-ungous Prick

2010-01-06T10:46:00.000-08:00

If you haven't heard or seen by now, FOX News commentator Brit Hume urged Tiger to renounce his Buddhist ways and convert to Christianity so that he can, ahem, redeem himself. Seeing as the Daily Show has already done an excellent job lambasting Hume I won't take up too much of your time.

So why write anything? Because moral absolutism fascinates/repulses me. It's the reason I watch FOX News. It's the only place where you can gaurantee that an entire company is working to find the negative spin on everything THEY don't agree with. Obama saves a child? FOX NEWS: Why didn't he save three more? The economy is perking up? FOX NEWS: Yes, but hamsters still can't read. And it's all because FOX, and the "conservatives" they dance for, have a huge hard-on for Obama and the Dems. I get it, seriously I do, but that doesn't make it any less entertaining.

Likewise with religion. I am fascinated by people who - having never met Jesus or anyone who knew him; having never lived in other parts of the world; tried different religions or have never died - can definitively say that Christianity is the best religion going.

Look, I love Reese's Buttercups. And for the last 35 years of my life, I have yet to find anything equaling its in-your-face deliciousness (yes, Cinnabon, I love you too but eating a desert the size of a baby's head is . . . disconcerting). Neverthless, I haven't tried ALL candies and can't proclaim from the top of Mount Hershey that Reese's Buttercups are the Alpha and Omega of sweet treats. I mean, I would if they discovered Mount Hersey -- and I could get to the top without all the hiking and sherpas and frostbite -- but for now that is only a fantasy. Much like the supposed contest between Christianity and Buddhism.

So to Mr. Hume (who is now claiming he's being persecuted because of his Christianity -- for FUCK'S SAKE), I get it, you dig Jesus. So does most of the country you broadcast in. But if Tiger is a buddhist, let him be (if anything, he appears to have more Mormon tendencies). Besides, if Christianity really had the redemptive power you claim, why haven't you or any of your fellow "journalists" forgiven Bill Clinton?

Party Pooper

2010-01-02T16:43:00.000-08:00

Well, it's a new year and I STILL have not been struck down by lightning (much to the shock of many of my Christian friends). Take THAT vengeful God! Anyway, onto the first post of 2010.

Last Thursday, as I did my damned best to get out of the office in a respectable manner (you know, without sprinting at full speed to the front-door), I asked my co-workers the same question everyone was asking:

"What are your plans for New Year's Eve?"

Being an old, married father of two, my New Year's Eve plans are . . . they're not plans. New Year's Eve in my neck of the woods is a lot like Friday night only . . . actually there's no "only." My New Year's Eve was EXACTLY like my Friday night. But you know, that's cool. Seriously, I dig being at home with my family eating pizza, plumbing the DVR for what I've missed and occasionally sneaking down into the basement for a little "tickle the joystick" with my mistress; madame Xbox 360. Call me crazy, but it's a little slice of heaven I look forward to every week.

Anyway, while some of my co-workers told me about nights out on the town, more than one said "I'll be in church."

In church for new year's.

Granted, I'm aware that church is open for new year's but so is 7-11, so simply having the lights on doesn't seem like the most compelling reason to go.

And it wasn't like these people had lost a bet. Like "I'll pay you $100 if you touch that road kill that touch your tongue." "And if I don't?" "The you have to spend new year's eve . . . . in church."

Seems fine for shut-ins and people over 70, but I'm talking single people in their 30's. Let's say you're not a drinker or a fornicator and hate clubs, cool. What about a good movie (Sherlock Holmes is good) or invite you and your non-drinking, celibate, dorky friends over to play Warcraft (seriously, what else would that bunch be playing)?

I dunno, going to church on new year's eve just feels like throwing in the towel a bit early, no? Like, fuck it, I'm not doing anything with my life now, might as well start living like my grandparents.

Again, it's not like I was knocking back Cristal with Diddy in the Hamptons (actually, I would not want to do that), but still.

Perhaps the problem is I've never had fun in church. I take that back. I've never had intentional fun at church. I usually end up enjoying myself quite a bit, but that's usually a defensive mechanism for being trapped in the three-hour screaming sermon delivered by a man with suspiciously too-long nails.

Often I feel that church is that TV show that other people just rave about, but every time you catch it they say "oh that's not the best episode." At this point, I just agree to disagree. Church is my "Two and a Half Men."

But maybe I'm missing out. I mean, Jesus turned water to wine so there's probably lots of drinking going on. And who knows, maybe there's like a Ten Commandments drinking game; take a shot if you covet my wife. I mean those folks in Sodom seemed like a lively bunch, so maybe I don't know what I'm talking about.

Ultimately, I guess if everyone I know and love is at church for new year's eve, I'd be there, too. But if everyone I know was in church on new year's eve, I'd be like "you know there's a 7-11 open just around the corner. Let's fill up on ring dings and read Black Men magazine till our eyes bleed."

Trust Me, This is Funny

2009-12-02T19:16:00.000-08:00

Alright, Christmas is coming and I thought I'd kick December off with an appropriate, if not completely blasphemous, joke about none other than Your Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Ready? (At this point, any practicing Christians should start genuflecting or tossing holy water on their ears and eyes). Here we go:

So Jesus is up on the cross.

He's sweating, bleeding, crying and in general, not having the best day of his life.

John (or James -- it's not so important, really) is in the crowd who had gathered to watch Jesus, uh, die.

Racked with pain, Jesus calls out to his disciple.

"John, please. Come to me. I have something important to tell you."

Dutifully, John pushes through the crowd and attempts to get past the Roman guards posted around the crucifix but is pushed back.

"I'm sorry my Lord," John cried, as he rejoined the crowd in defeat.

Again, Jesus, seemingly on his last legs, calls out to John, pleading "My lamb, come to me, I have something important to say before I leave this world."

John steeles himself and pushes back through the crowd, this time managing to distract one guard (who had been day dreaming about a better job than watching people attached to lumber slowly die) and make it to crucifix. However, before he could get a leg up, he is knocked down by the angry sentinels who curse him.

Limping this time, John returns back to the crowd, more than a little embarrassed and avoiding eye contact.

But Jesus cares not for social awkwardness and calls out a third time to John. Though feeble, his voice is strong like James Earl Jones or Vin Deisel if they were Jews.

"John! Hurry, my time is short and I have something that needs to heard."

"Son of a BITCH!" John says under his breath, being careful not to offend Mary.

Shoveling up the last of his grit, John moves back towards Jesus. This time the crowd barely protested as he climbed through, many of them snickering as he passed. Though it should be noted that this was the first utterance of the phrase "third time's a charm" -- in aramic.

John makes his way to crucifix and confronts the Roman soldiers, this time with a large stick in his hand. It was only after the first soldier fell, the side of his face gushing blood, that John remarked the irony of beating down a man to speak to someone who practiced non-violence. The second guard, who had left his spear at home, ran.

As John reached the crucifix, Jesus' cries became more desperate, weaker.

"John, hurry, I have something to tell you."

Like a rhesus monkey, John scaled the crucifix to the "oohs" and "aahs" of the assembled mob who had not expected any acrobatics along with their ritual torture/murder.

"Quick John, please." Jesus pleaded.

Pulling himself up, John was in tears as he got closer to his teacher.

And then he was at Jesus' side, muscles straining as he clung to the wood.

"I'm here my Lord." He whispered, like a prayer.

Dazed and bleary-eyed, Jesus calls to John.

"Come close, I have something important to tell you."

John leaned in, as close as he could, sensing Jesus would not be alive much longer.

"John, I . . I . . ."

"Yes my Lord.?"

"John, I can see your house from here."

Now, at this point you are either laughing hysterically or scared that just by reading these words that you are headed for hell.

If you're not laughing, I'm used to it cause my wife didn't laugh either when I told her this same joke last week. That's right, the same woman who declared, in church no less, that she was no longer a Christian, could not dare let a laugh slip her lips in the face of pure hilarity.

Now, before you give me credit for this comedy gold, I cannot take the credit. That belongs to my dad who told me this same joke countless times over the years. In truth it only came back because the punchline is in the movie "Up" which my kids watched perhaps 15 trillion times over Thanksgiving.

So there you go, share it . . . if you dare.

Oh yeah, MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Chic-Fil-WHAAAAAA???

2009-11-18T18:30:00.000-08:00

Fucking Chic-Fil-A.

Oh yeah, they have great sandwiches, incredible customer service and their peach shakes were good enough to consider selling your soul. But when it comes to religious tolerance, they have a long way to go.

So yesterday, during our weekly pilgramage to Target, my wife reminded me that we needed to stop by the dollar savings section to "pick up stuff for the Chic-Fil-A boxes."

She said this matter of factly, as if I had clue the first as to what she was talking about.

"Huh?" My face said.

"We picked up these charity boxes from Chic-Fil-A that you fill up with gifts for underpriviledged kids."

Great idea, right?

Now, like most folks, I think I fit under the category of "good people." I grew up with parents who were active in giving to charity. One of my strongest memories is driving through Philly with my father, delivering turkeys and gifts to people who didn't have enough money to get them for themselves. It was a defining moment in my life as it brought home how lucky I was. It's also something I've wanted to replicate with my kids, so I saw this as a nice opportunity.

Needless to say, I was excited -- an emotion my children never see on their dad's face while shopping. Their reciprocal excitement from being ENCOURAGED to buy as many toys as possible was only equalled by their stunning disappointment that these toys weren't actually for them. Welcome to charity girls, smells good don't it?

So after that spirit-crushing trip, we returned home with a couple bags of stuff and started filling the boxes like middle-aged Santas. It was really . . . nice. It was warming to think $35 could cause some kid to dust off a smile he hadn't used as much as he'd like -- even if it was just for one day and even if it was just over a coloring book and a toy dinosaur.

While I was filling one box, I happened upon the sheet that accompanied it; a blue worksheet intended for my chidren to fill out. it asked their names, what they like to do, their favorite this and favorite that. Then, about half way down the page, there was this bold question/assumption:

"I love Jesus because . . . "

And then there were three blank lines after it, like there's a bunch of 8-year-old religious scholars who can expound on the significance of a magic Jew who lived before Dora or even, gasp, the Electric Company. At most, I would think a kid would finish the sentence with "because he turned Christmas over to Santa Claus."

And what's with this "love Jesus" stuff? Maybe Jesus and I aren't that cool. Maybe we're like "work friends" or just neighborly. You know we wave when we see each other but we don't know each others last names (which isn't saying much because no one seems to know Jesus' last name). Either way, I don't know that I like Chic-Fil-A rushing Jesus and I into some serious thing. I mean back off, will ya?

I digress.

What really pissed me off was not the pint-size preaching, it was the assumption that my giving had something to do my supposed love with Jesus (again, we are NOT going out, OK?). If I knew I had to be "This Religious" to ride this ride, I would have gone to a different park. But, seriously, this isn't really about me, specifically. I don't practice any religion, so I know Chic-Fil-A doesn't even consider me, but what about the millions of Muslims or Hindus, or, uh, what do they call them, you know Jesus' mom and dad were . . . oh yeah, JEWS! What, they don't find happiness with a #1 combo with those fucking tasty waffle fries? Do THEY have to go steady with Jesus in order to fill a couple of boxes with middle-class regret in the shape Transformer pencil sharpners to gain Chic-Fil-A's affections?

I know you're thinking, "dude, just leave the question blank."

Sure, that would be the "rational" thing to do. Besides, Chic-Fil-A is an openly-Christian business (they're closed on Sundays). But this is about principle. There's principalities to be considered.

Soooooooo . . . . we left it blank, but I desperately WANTED to write something very snarky in there like
"I love Jesus because he doesn't care if I'm a Christian, and neither should you" or "I love Jesus because he knows all the winning lotto numbers."

Truth is, I'm not going to stop going to Chic-Fil-A, not unless I want my children to slit my neck in my sleep, but I just wanted to point out our society's bias towards the faithful. It may seem harmless or even cute, but to me it's bigotry. Deep, golden-fried bigotry that goes great with lemonade.

Pray for Me

2009-11-08T16:57:00.000-08:00

My youngest daughter, Avery, goes to church twice a week now.

Well, technically it's not church, it's a pre-school IN a church. You know, like those KFC/Taco Bell abominations that seem like both a good idea and a bad joke simultaneously.

To be sure, while the school itself is not a CHRISTIAN school, they do touch on religion with the kiddies. In fact, Avery now insists that we pray before each meal. It's this adorable clappy-sing-song thing that she does with this huge grin. The words are something like "Give thanks" clap-clap "to the Lord" clap-clap. Of course, Avery has added her own lyrics which involve imaginary friends, her toys and the dog she and her sister are literally praying for. Speaking as the resident Almighty Father, I can tell you at this point THAT particular prayer probably won't be answered -- that is unless I'm miraculously cured of pet dander allergies.

Anyway, I bring all this up to say that I personally have very sucky prayer-etiquette.

I attribute that mostly to the fact that I do not actually pray -- a direct by-product of not believing in God. Or at least, a god that answers personal requests like a middle school DJ. "Hey can you play, 'Please Pay My Mortgage?' or 'Please Kill This Guy Driving Like an Ass hat in the Fast Lane.'

So, this brings me to lunch last week with a co-worker. On our way to Chic-Fil-A, he's telling me this very engrossing story about a woman he's seeing that he shouldn't be seeing. It's all illicit sex, failed relationships, doomed psyches -- like a theater version of "Maury" -- so naturally I'm fully committed to the story.

We order as he continues his story, toning it down so the other patrons don't assume we are complete perverts, get our food and take our seat.

Mind you, just as we are spreading out our deep fried meals on the table, we had enterted the part of the conversation where I offer my pearls of wisdom.

"Honestly dude, I think you're making a big mistake."

My co-worker, usually open to honest criticism, sat, saying nothing.

In fact, his head was down.

"Hey, are you . . . "

Still no reponse.

Aw shit, I thought. Is he crying? Did I say something wrong? Maybe I've drudged up some painful memory which is about to come spilling out all over his waffle fries.

"Hey!" I said a bit more forcefully.

This time a response, a raised hand -- palm facing me.

So I paused. The words I had prepared next stopped, amassed on the border and awaiting orders.

Seconds later, he raised his head, smiled and said "I'm sorry, you were saying . . . ?"

And then it me. Prayer. Dude was praying while I was talking.

It's moments like these that I think of three things:
1. I have no prayer ettiquette. I assume when you're talking about wanton sex, that you're not gonna stop mid-sentence to chat it up with Jesus. So naturally, I don't assume I'll have to hold my tongue either. Not to mention, I'm kinda hungry.
2. Just as a matter of convienance, and I'm just throwing this out there, why don't you pray WHILE you eat. I don't mean talking while you chew (that's gross and dangerous). I mean pray . . . with your mind. What, you don't think Jesus can read minds?
3. What does the person praying think about me? Clearly I'm powering through my nuggets without even a nod to the J-man, so clearly I'm a dick right?

From where I sit, praying over food is usually about appreciation which I totally dig. Appreciating that I can eat and have food are things I got from my parents. Not only did they make me aware of children who had less, but my parents repeated a verse from their own Good Book. Let me see if I can recall it. Ah, yes it goes -- "You don't own shit so be happy for what we give you." And that pretty much did it. Every time I looked at shit -- be it toys, clothes, a slice of pizza -- I would remember that said shit was temporary and that I was lucky to have it. Lesson learned, done and done.

Hey That's My Line!

2009-10-27T20:01:00.000-07:00

If this post were a movie, it would start with a prologue, a provactive scene that makes you wonder what the hell happened before it.

How about this:

INTERIOR. DAYTIME. MASTER BATHROOM
"Daddy, I don't want to be a Christian."

Nice huh?

It was Sunday, exactly five months after my father died, and I found myself in a church for the first time since . . . I wanna say two years ago. Ironically, it was the exact same church, a real coincidence for a heathen like me.

My mother-in-law, and a room full of others, became deacons on Sunday and we were there to support her. And by "we," I mean my brother-in-law AND my mom (and of course my daughters and wife).

We arrived late (shocker) and sat damn near the back (bonus!). When we came in the choir was just quieting down and the shouting was just about to start.

Now, while I am intellectually curious about religion and Christianity, I find church to be pretty fucking boring. I mean not at first, but c'mon after two hours, even sex gets tedious. And normally, I'm the only heathen in the place so I have to keep my smart-ass remarks to myself or risk embarassing my wife as she does her best to fit in. But Sunday was different.

First off, I was sitting next to my mother, who despite an entire childhood in church, is as Christian as a bag of nickels. She provided a constant streams of jokes as we looked at the church clothes (does Jesus WANT women to dress like shit?), the minister's insistence on sounding like a balloon losing air whenever he used a word ending in "s." ("rest" becomes "resssssssssss," "pass" becomes "passssss," "ass" becomes "assssssss" not that he said that but thinking about it just makes me laugh). So, all in all, a good time as we did very little to hide the fact that we were only there to pass judgment and laugh.

However, what was different was that my wife was seemingly . . . .with me. Normally, I percieve her to be a bit embarrassed. She's the big sister who has to bring her little brother to the party when she knows all he's going to do is make an ass of himself and probably piss on the couch. But Sunday was different, she seemed detached from church in a way I had never seen. Comforting to me, it was slightly sad that she had let go of any possibility of feeling at home in a church. Naturally, I blame myself as does my mother-in-law -- I assume. But in my personal narrative, SHE is the one who likes, if not tolerates, church, while I am the one who shuns it like the latest Soulja Boy song.

Here's how I know. My favorite/most feared part of every church visit is the call for new members. You know, when the minister asks if anyone wants to come to Jesus in front of a room of strangers. Even in my limited church going, I have never actually seen someone take up the offer. Anyway, I ALWAYS feel like the minister is talking directly to me. And I nurse this fantasy that I will somehow be singled out by the minister who will call me down to the pulpit where I deliver a heathen manifesto with the same heartfelt fervor as Linus' speech at the end of "A Charlie Brown Christmas."

So when the minister asked everyone to turn to someone and ask them if they could walk with them to the pulpit to accept Jesus, I just KNEW someone would turn to ask me. But such was not the case. The woman in front of us, stereotypically large, turned to my wife and asked "can I walk with you?" I froze. My wife graciously took her hand and gave her the foreigener smile, the one that says "I don't really know what you said, but I'm willing to play along." The woman repeated her question "can I walk with you?" To which my wife answered, "Oh, no that's OK," and pulled her hand away. The woman, not knowing how to take rejection, smiled politelty and turned back around.

Wow, right? Granted, my wife is not one for public displays of, well anything, but her refusal to accept Jesus as her savior was significant. Naturally, I was both jealous and relived that the woman had not turned to me. I don't have enough words for the scenario I had cooked up had the woman actually turned to me. Suffice to say, it would have been mortifyingf to all parties involved.

So, fast forward to this morning. I ask my oldest daughter what she thought of church to which she answered. "It was nice but . . . "

"But what?" I ask.

"But there was one thing I didn't like. They were too loud."

"I see." I restrained my glee.

"Daddy, I don't want to be a Christian."
Shock gave way to one question.

"Why not honey?"

"Mommy said that you said you don't want to be a Christian, so neither do I."

Warms the heart, no? And yet . . .

"Honey, daddy's 35 years old and has had a lot of time to think about these things. You're only eight, so you may change your mind."

BOOM! Didn't think I'd say that did you? Well I did. And it's the truth. While I'm in no hurry to make my children card-carrying Christians, I'm not ready to snatch away any hope of it either. They are simply too young to know any better. Besides, so much of Christianity is a fairy tale, I don't see the harm in letting them believe, if only for a little while longer.

Guess What Tomorrow Is?

2009-10-24T15:32:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow at this time, I'll still be in church.

Yes, you read that correctly, church. The big C. God's crib. Casa de Jesus.

See, my mother-in-law will be inducted as the first female deacon of her church and we've been invited to commemorate the occassion at her church.

So this is just a prelude, a trailer to what's coming. Rest assured, I'll fill you in on all the details tomorrow. Actually, probably more like Monday. Anway, stay tuned.

Twitter is for Sinners

2009-10-20T12:11:00.000-07:00

I'm not one for trending topics on Twitter. I mean I DO have my own mind.

Nevertheless, I noted that the FIRST trending topic (that is the topic most people are tweeting about) was titled: "NO GOD."

So naturally I clicked to see what people were saying.

Before I reveal, I made the assumption that it would be filled with people raving against the poor atheist who started the trend. I guessed I would see several calls for Jesus and or God to strike them down, give him boils and impound his Saturn.

Um . . . no.

Here's a sampling of what was there:

beyonddieties wrote: "No god? Finally, a little respect for the athiests xD responsibility! rationality! logic! your own judgement!no sexism!no racism!"

Andrew_Vienne @infocyde wrote: "There is no god." is a null hypothesis, just like "There is no invisible dragon." Burden of proof is on those who say it exists.

and finally, gblas wrote: "Si dios vive en mi, espero que le gusten los tacos." Which roughly translates to "Yes, God lives in me, but then is released after a meal at Taco Bell."

After reading this, I've come to two conclusions:

1. Atheism is indeed coming out of the closet
2. Black folks were not aware of this trending topic otherwise my mother in law would have emailed it to my wife as further evidence why our children need to be in Church.

Where the Hell Have I Been?

2009-10-18T11:30:00.000-07:00

My last post was in August, so where they hell have I been?

No good answer.

Well, actually, my boss got canned so I've been bustin' up the chifferobe at full speed at work, so I've been a bit distracted.

But that doesn't absolve my guilt.

Here I am punching buttons for the man and you're sitting there with nothing to read, nothing to share with your friends.

My poor, poor reader. (I assume there's at least one of you other than my wife).

So here's my pledge, my fucking scout's honor that I will drop at least one weekly load of my incredibly interesting life right here.

Ok, are we cool?

I mean, if this was a real conversation we'd hug it out and then segue to talking about what happened on Fringe.

But since it's not, I'm gonna say this conversation is over.

STAY TUNED!!!!

Several Thoughts . . .

2009-08-31T14:47:00.000-07:00

Several thoughts:
1. What makes this classy is that it's written in cursive.
2. Is this considered a red light or green light for doggy-style sex?
3. "Grandma, what is that shit on your back?"
4. "I want something that says creepy/slutty without having to wear open-crotch panties and frog skulls around my neck."
5. Would her pastor be proud?
6. Who knew her pastor has such a steady hand?
7. When she's at the beach, does she get hit on by old church ladies?
8. Was a t-shirt too expensive?
9. Irony: a tattoo that says it is "not boastful, conceited or self-serving."
10. Wait till you see where she tattooed the verse about sodomy.

Since I have opened the comments to accept EVERYONE, I encourge, nay, demand that you put your own thoughts about this photo below.

Are You Ready to Rapture?!?!?!

2009-08-30T15:40:00.001-07:00

So I'm watching "Left Behind II: Tribulation Force" -- the stunning sequel that the critics at christiananswers.com call "quite good" -- and thought this would be the best time to talk about that other piece of gold I was sitting on last week (Look closely to see "Left Behind" star Kirk Cameron in the crowd above).

I was at work, which I often do Monday through Friday, and I happened past the desk of Vanessa, my 22-year-old co-worker who is also VERY devout (you may remember her from this post). How devout is she? Well, she's in a Christian sorority.

Stir that in your coffee.

As you may recall, Vanessa is not yet completely convinced that President Obama is NOT the antichrist. For her, the idea that he may be the Joker to Jesus' Batman is not off the table. It's one thing to question Obama's birthplace, it's another to think his mother was a jackal and that he's hiding three sixes under his afro.

Anyway, I happened past her desk and saw that she had recently been browsing on a site called raptureready.com. There is no "about this site" page but if there was I think it would read a little something like this:

"Convinced the world is ending? Think Obama is just a little too charismatic to be human? Are you just looking for one more reason to shit your pants on a daily basis? This is the site for you."

WARNING: You will be tempted to think I'm making this shit up, but trust me, these are REAL excerpts from the site -- my comments are in parantheses.

First up, the Rapture Index page which is a sober, yet hilarious breakdown of the events leading to rapture -- each given a numeric rating between 1 and 5 (convenient no?). I'll start with some obvious ones:
False Christs -- 3
Satanism -- 2
Occultism -- 3

Here are some head-scratchers:
Oil supply/Price -- 4
Debt and Trade -- 5
Apostasy -- 4 (huh?)

And now for the comedy:
Liberalism -- 4 (Perhaps Bill Maher is the antichrist)
Israel -- 5 (I assume it's a five because it's still there?)
Beast government -- (Is that like Animal farm?)

Another great page is the Rapture Ready News which is really just a collection of news stories from other sources that eerily predict the coming armageddon:
"Artificial Trees to cut carbon"
"Wildfire Near Los Angeles Poses Danger to 10,000 homes"
"Toyota Pulls Plug on US Factory"

Seriously, these things just write themselves.

So, what's the point?

As a heathen I accept that people you love and respect may believe in things you find downright weird, but sometimes when you what they believe written out on a computer screen and rated like a beauty pageant you start to wonder if maybe your friends and co-workers may just be idiots.

You know what, if I was a Christian I would be scared out of my gourd. I mean the Anti-Christ is in the White House, artificial trees are monopolizing the carbon game and Israel insists on . . . existing? Actually, considering that satanism -- which my feeble mind would say is the number-fucking-one symptom of the end of the world, is only at a piddly 2, I would say things are good for apocalyptic Christians.

Here's my point people, much like "satanism," my respect for Vanessa is hovering around a 2. She's a very nice person and has a decent taste in music, but anyone who looks to raptureready.com as a credible source for anything other than blogger fodder is, well, insane.

O' Heavenly Dog

2009-08-26T18:13:00.000-07:00

When it comes to blogging some days are better than others.

And yesterday, my friends, was a good day.

I recieved TWO gifts -- one intentional, the second unintentional.

Let's start with the first one:

A good friend and regular Thirdsie Badasschick (a confirmed Catholic by the way) sent me an email pointing me toward what is either one of the best joke sites I've ever seen or one of the best business plans ever concieved.

Enough with the drumroll, it's http://eternal-earthbound-pets.com/.

It's a kennel service for people who are saved but for pets that aren't (not only do they shit on the carpet but they don't believe in Jesus either). That's right, in the event that you get raptured, you can rest assured your precious parakeet will be well taken care of in your eternal absence (though I assume if you're given audience with the almighty creator of EVERYTHING I would assume the last thing you would think about is your fucking poodle and if she's ripping up the couch, but hey I'm a heathen so what do I know).

So just who will be taking care your filthy, graven-image worshipping pets? Filthy, graven-image worshipping Atheists, that's who. As the site says: "Each Eternal Earth-Bound Pet representative is a confirmed atheist, and as such will still be here on Earth after you've received your reward." I'm a sarcastic prick so it's hard for me to read that sentence without hearing the snark dripping off of it but the site swears it's legit.

Now, you must be asking your self, how much does this service cost?

$200? $100? $50?

Uh, actually it's $110 -- peanuts for those who don't need bank accounts or even movie theaters (which hardly seems like heaven). And since I doubt you get a lot of bars in heaven and can't call the service from cloud nine, potential customers have to pay up BEFORE they get raptured.

But don't worry, even though there are no phone numbers on the site (hey if I can't call Apple about my ipod, why would I need to call athiests about my chihuahua?), the site does have a gaurantee: "For $110.00 we will guarantee that should the Rapture occur within ten (10) years of receipt of payment, one pet per residence will be saved."

So not only do they babysit your pets, they babysit your money, too.

Ah man. It doesn't get any better than that.

Or does it?

Sorry, kids, I have to go to bed, but I'll be back tomorrow (maybe the day after tomorrow) with that other site I teased you with.

What a Difference Two Days Make

2009-08-20T19:18:00.000-07:00

So my daughters spent two days with my mother-in-law and already they're showing symptoms of religious radiation.

1. They were singing Mary, Mary's "God In Me" -- not a bad tune actually, but still . . . really?

2. Worst offensive, my eldest, out of the blue said -- "What was that thing that Madea said?"

Uh, what the fuck? (I didn't say that out loud). "How do you know about Madea?" I asked.

She said "We saw Madea's Family Reunion at nana's house."

Of course you did.

But you know what, Tyler Perry movies are made for 8-year-olds, so I can't blame her for liking it. It's the grown folks who dig it that I can't understand.

Hello Blogger!

2009-08-18T06:51:00.000-07:00

So I'm walking back from lunch yesterday, and guess who I bump into? Leon, of listentoleon.net fame. His blog, "Yeah, I Said It," is part of my daily web routine and he NEVER lets me down.

True story: Leon and I used to work together some years back when he was an intern. He was always a nice guy, but I had no idea the level of funny he was keeping to himself. Glad he let it out.

Tyler Durden Hates Jesus

2009-08-16T06:38:00.000-07:00

As much as I like Brad Pitt's movies -- "Seven," "12 Monkeys" and "Fight Club" are in my top 20 -- I don't really think about Brad Pitt. Though I must admit, as someone closing in on 40, I am in awe/hate with the fact that he's still built like he's a 20-year-old gay porn star.

POINT OF DISCLOSURE: While I have indeed witnessed gay porn (once by accident, another by a dare) I'm making an assumption that 20 year old gay pornstars are at the peak of physical condition.

Yes, it's nice that he's adopted half of Africa, and it's mildly interesting that he's married to Angelina Jolie but honestly, I never really pay him that much attention. So imagine my surprise that after five minutes of watching him on Bill Maher's "Real Time" I was ready to uproot my family and move to New Orleans (America's personal Afghanistan) and vote him into the mayor's house.

Why? Well here are the three cornerstones of his platform:
1. Legalization of pot.
2. Legalize gay marriage
3. No religion

Gee, I wonder why he appeals to my heathenistic world view.

While he did not out and out claim that he is an athiest, (in fact he says he was raised in a religious household), anyone who wants to outlaw religion can't be a big fan. It's like if someone says they're not a racist but just doesn't think niggers should have the right to vote. Sometimes words speak louder than labels.

But, believe it or not, I'm not for abolishing all religion. Ok, maybe some of the crazy ones like the cults that involve drinking poisonous Kool Aid or the ones that make you do this. But at the end of the day I think that for all the shit that organized religion has wrought on the world -- war, touchy-feely priests, self-esteem issues, Tyler Perry -- I fear a world without it.

I mean, all religions pretty much say preach the same things: Don't kill anyone, don't sleep with your boy's wife, don't steal and don't get caught up in material goods. All of which I agree with. It's when we have to pay fealty to invisible father figures where I get off the train, but hey, if believing that you'll catch a celestial backhand will keep you from cheating on your wife or taking out the Home Depot with a semi-automatic -- fine with me. I will even take your condescending tone and holier-than-thou side-eyes when you realize I don't pray over my food or know the difference between ministers and preachers.

So as much as I'd like for everyone to be as "enlightened" as me, I accept that people need religion. That they need to feel their dead aunts are floating in heaven or that their lives won't end when they kick the bucket. And, I guess I get it. I just wish people didn't need religion so they could feel better than other folks -- especially those without religion. No need to pull down your pants to show us how big your faith is, as a matter of fact, Jesus would probably prefer that you keep your faith in your jockeys.

Death Sucks

2009-08-11T19:26:00.000-07:00

I lost my father two months ago.

Well, he's not lost. He's actually in a very classy, muted black urn sitting in my closet at the bottom of a white Macy's shopping bag.

Not exactly the beautific afterworld one might imagine, but for a man who never expressed (at least not to me) any clear location of where he thought his soul would end up, I suppose taking residence next my shoes and a half-full bag of guinea pig bedding is just as fitting as any ending.

Truth is, my father isn't in that urn. He is not dust, collecting dust. I know that as sure as I know my father wasn't in the stilled body that lay on the gurney on that horrible day in May.

So where, pray tell, is he?

That depends on what you believe. Or more precisely, what I believe. Not an easy task when tagged a non-believer. Not that I believe in nothing, a common misnomer for us heathens. Truth is I believe in many things, even things I can't see -- love, gravity, black holes, radio waves, the goodness of humanity -- I just don't buy many (OK, all) of the world's religion's viewpoints and thus, I am a "non-believer."

As I said in my last entry, death is one of the biggest tests of one's committment to non-committment. And on May 25, 2009 my test came in the form of a brutal pop quiz entitled: "Where's Your Dad Now?"

Well, were I a christian, I suppose I would believe he was in heaven. Indeed, many at my father's service (hold on, I'll get to that), spoke of my dad being in heaven, or at least "looking down." I admit, heaven is a great idea. An endless sky cruise for the great people of the world. Assuming you're not Hitler or R. Kelly, admission is pretty much gauranteed by most folks' reckonings. And honestly, not even Hitler's cousins think he's in hell. No one goes to a funeral where the minister/pastor/guy at the podium says "too bad he was a galatic asshole who's now hotfooting it in hell." I mean, no one looks down and says "I wonder if mom is looking up at us now."

Still, my father was not a hypocrite and he read the bible, so he knew there was only one real way to get to Christian heaven which is ACCEPTING JESUS CHRIST AS HIS LORD AND SAVIOR (that sentence just begs for all caps, right?), an act I'm sure my father never did. Now, I can't be sure that he NEVER did this, much in the way that I can't be sure he NEVER stuck a cat in the microwave, but it just feels wrong.

(Honestly, my plan was examine each of the world's religious views of the afterlife, but the closest any of my family got to one was Christianity and since we all know how that turned out, I'll save you some reading time.)

So, back to the question at hand -- where is my dear old dad if heaven is only for Christians? And what kind of service do you have for a non-believer?

First question first: I don't know where my father is or even if he still "is." I know physics dictates we are all energy and energy cannot be destroyed which is only reassuring had my father been a light bulb. Alas.

The worst part is, I know he isn't here anymore. I cannot call him, email him or laugh with him again. But I do hear him, like a song in my head that is both with and without sound. So perhaps that is something. But I hold no illusions that we will reunite on cloud nine for glasses of Coke Zero and Snyder pretzels. I mean, it's possible but at this point it feels more like self-deluding fantasy than a real occurence, but hey, I never thought we'd have a Black president either.

As to the question of what kind of funeral do you throw for an athiest (actually he claimed Agnostic)? Simple, you throw a kick-ass party. So that's what we did. We invited his closest friends, co-workers, family -- everyone who loved him -- and we ate, drank, laughed and shared stories at a restaurant. Yes, there were tears but they were outweighed by the smiles and hugs. Gone were the dour processions, the ghoulish open caskets and too-long renditions of "His Eye is On the Sparrow." We replaced them with a digital slide show, the "Star Wars" theme song on replay and an open bar.

Even if he went nowhere, I like to believe we sent my father off in a way that made sense of the man he was. Fun, a little crazy and very loving.

What Kind of Father Are You?

2009-05-04T17:58:00.000-07:00

Sorry I've been away for a while.

Truth is, I'm sitting on gold. GOLD JERRY! In the time since my last post, I've gathered enough material for like . . . 50 great posts that I will bless you with in due time.

But it's probably best that I start with the one that happened today. I call it: "What Kind of Father Are You?"

Today, one of my co-workers was talking about her date for the weekend and the conversation soon moved to sex, or the lack thereof. Ultimately, the issue of gender politics became the main course and the big question was pitched to me: "how will you react when your daughters start having sex?"

Now, if you are a heathen like myself, there are a couple of tests to gauge your committment to non-committment. Death is one. Your daughter's virginity is the other.

I have two daughters, which means, in due time there will be two sets of boys coming through my doors looking to sleep with them. No, I don't love the idea but on the other hand, I don't want my girls to be 40-year old virgins either.

Actually, I don't want them to be 25-year old virgins.

Granted, I'd prefer they wait till they're out of my house, but "doing it" is one of life's greatest pleasures. There's taking a shit, taking a nap, love, eating and boning. My only request is that they hold onto their "precious flowers" till they leave my house, at least that way I won't have to SEE it. But I have no illusions of my daughters remaining chaste until marriage. Nor would I really want them to.

I have my reasons. Three actually.

1. They may never get married. As lovely as they are, the stats for Black women are dismal.

2. I actually WANT them to enjoy sex. I'm firmly convinced that anyone who remains a virgin past 25 is not really interested in sex. Imagine going half a century with a Cinnabon. Crazytown, right?

3. I'm not going to burden them with the idea that pre-marital sex is sinful.

When I explained my reasons, my co-worker (let's call her Michelle), asked:

"Well, what about your religious convictions?"

Now, the only reason I didn't laugh out loud is because I had not prepared to come out of the heathen closet at work. From what I can tell, Michelle was raised in a very religious home and I wasn't quite ready to go down that path with her.

So I waffled as best as I could:

"Those aren't really a problem for me." Better to appear as a lapsed Christian than not one at all, right?

"What do you mean?" She parried.

Ah shit.

And then . . . I came out. Right there at work. In front of TWO of my co-workers.

"I wasn't raised with any religion so I never really get into the whole sin thing." It was out and no bells rang. No sirens. Just quiet acceptance and perhaps silent judging. But no one stopped me.

Michelle paused and looked up from her desk and said, "You're life must be so peaceful."

"Huh?"

"You don't know what it's like to think that what you're doing is wrong and always being like 'please forgive me God.'"

I didn't say anything but I was thinking -- "No, I don't -- Thank God."

Easter-Geddon IV: This Time It's Personal!

2009-04-18T17:15:00.000-07:00

It was all going to plan.

The plan was afoot. The trap was set. The bait was taken.

And then . . . BAM! Fucking Orthodox Easter.

Turns out, tonight is Orthodox Easter. A holiday I was hardly aware of has suddenly reared its ugly head right into my Saturday night.

Let's rewind a few hours shall we.

Earlier today, my wife and I hatched a devious plot to spend a night without kids by way of inviting the neighbors' kids for a sleepover. "Huh?" You say. "How will inviting MORE children over increase the chance of being alone?"

Come walk through our labrythine logic.

Our neighbors have four kids -- one of which is my eldest daughter's OMG BFF. So we invite her over for a sleepover KNOWING that the children's father thinks she's too young to have sleepovers. Plus, we anticipated that the rest of the children will be jealous and want to come over -- something that we know just won't happen. And that's where the genius of the plan kicks in.

Alright, so we threw out the first pitch and invited the eldest daughter over. Her mother said "yes," a little too quickly. I would be lying if I said we weren't a little scared.

Forty minutes later, the mother called stating that it's her daughter's birthday tomorrow (did I mention that they're Jehovah Witnesses -- at least the mother is -- so her child's birthday wasn't going to be a big deal) and she wanted to invite our two daughters over instead.

YES!!!!

Not ten minutes later, I'm rushing around the house -- literally throwing my childrens' pajamas on, gathering toothbrushes and shoes. It's what's known as "Married Man Nesting." It's eliminating all distractions and deterrents from your wife's surroundings so that she can concentrate on . . . making brownies (look my parents read this blog so give me a break).

Anyway, the children are dressed and ready to go. So I called the mom -- "The girls are ready to come over." Yes I love my children but to say I wasn't hopping around like a puppy would be a lie.

"Well, actually we're going to a midnight Easter service. I didn't know earlier. I'm sorry."

CUT TO ME IN CAPTAIN KIRK'S CHAIR SCREAMING INTO THE CAMERA ABOVE:

"JESUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSS!"

Fucking Orthodox Easter has ruined my Saturday night. On a night when I had planned some decidedly un-Christianlike behavior, Jesus has resurrected and achieved a masterful cock-block. Well done Son of God.

For you curious few, Orthodox Easter is the neighbor's father's idea -- it's not a JW thing. He's fighting an uphill battle against his wife's new found faith with Jehovah's Witnesses and is doing his best to keep his kids out of Kingdom Hall. I don't blame him, but couldn't he have found a different day to fight this war?

Don't miss the Easter-Geddon series here:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 2.5
Part 3

COUNTDOWN TO EASTER-GEDDON III: Jesus Who?

2009-04-12T07:08:00.000-07:00

It is 10:39am on Easter Sunday.

I am in my pajamas.

Prophecy fulfilled bitches!!!! That's right, my two-year church famine remains intact as I predicted!

If you've been following along, you'll know that my in-laws have been quietly (and not-so quietly) angling to get me and my family to church today. They've sent my daughters Easter Dresses, emails about putting our children on "the right path," and constant quieries about our activities for the holiday.

Meanwhile, I have been quietly hoping that we would NOT be in church. Not just because I'm a a heathen, but because church on Easter seems just a bit EXTRA, know what I mean? It doesn't so much bother me that everyone is there to show off their new duds and freshly-scrubbed devotion, it's the minister I'm worried about. They seem contractually obligated to go that extra mile on Easter, marathon preaching.

At least, so I'm told.

I don't know that I've ever been in a church on Easter. So, this is just a guess. But let me share with you two comments I heard this morning that further illustrate WHY I've never been.

Comment #1:"You know, Easter really sucks."

This is my mother as she dutifully picks up plastic green "grass" and consolidates the children's chocolate treats into plastic ziplock bags.

"It's messy and the only people who get anything out of it are the fucking candy companies."

Starting to get the picture yet?

Comment number 2: "Oh yeah," she exclaims, "I forgot it was Easter today."

That's my eldest daughter waking up and responding to the news that if the Easter Bunny left anything for her and her sister.

TA-DAH!!!

To be truly honest, we haven't fully escaped Easter's orbit as we are currently getting dressed to meet my mother-in-law for brunch at Houlihans -- which, I guess for her, is the next best thing to getting us in church. I'm sure we'll hear wonderful things about the service and be offered an invitation to attend something very soon.

The funny thing is, as much as I am opposed to church, my wife is the one who truly dug her heels in. She KNEW we would be under pressure to go to some sort of church service so she made sure NONE of us had anything "proper" to wear. All four of us are wearing jeans, sealing our heathenistic fate not to step foot in a church.

So there, take that Christian holiday. You've just been defeated by denim.

COUNTDOWN TO EASTER-GEDDON II.5: Doing It JW Style

2009-04-09T13:22:00.000-07:00

So, I'm at home today on "sick leave" -- cough, cough. For real, my wife really was at the hospital (nothing serious), so I had to pitch hit for her home day care (which includes my daughters, a five year old boy and a four-month old infant). In other words, fun, fun, fun!

Anyway, around 10:30 there's a knock at my door. Lo and behold it's the Jehovah's Witnesses!

Flanked by three old women, they quietly ask me if my wife is home. I tell them "no" and they smile and hand me a little booklet. No muss, no fuss.

Not an hour later, the doorbell rings again.

MORE JW's.

But this time . . . a familiar face.

Oh shit, it's the JW who had been "studying" with my wife for three years until she tried the hard sell and got the boot (you can read about that confrontation right here). It was like seeing some chick you dissed over the phone suddenly show up at your door with flowers.

I'll give the woman her props, she is persistant. When you take into account that my wife pretty much told her to buzz off AND that she read my blog account of visiting her church, excuse me, Hall -- you figure this woman REALLY is convinced that she knows Jesus. Bless her heart.

"Hi David," -- she never remembers my name.

"Hi, how are you?" -- I don't care to remind her.

"Is your wife home?"

"No, she's not."

"Oh well, can you give this to her?" She said handing me the exact booklet the other crew gave me.

"No problem." I'm not lying, I really will give it to her -- so we can laugh together.

"Well, just so you know, we're having a celebration tonight just around the corner so if you want to come by."

So what celebration warrants TWO visits from the JW's within an hour? What's all the hub bub?

Why, the death of Jesus.

Um, Yay?

The booklet read: "Each year, Jehovah's Witnesses mark the anniversary of Jesus' death with a simple ceremony. . . This year, the anniversary falls on Thursday, April 9."

Awww, how inconvenient. Thursday night is the night for "The Office" and "30 Rock" so . . . maybe Jesus should have picked another day to kick the bucket (yes, I have a DVR but I like those shows LIVE). Not to mention, I've seen the JW version of a "rousing day at church" so I can only imagine that a JW's version of a "simple ceremony" would be a lot like playing solitaire in front of a mirror -- only slightly more boring.

Being an optimist, I understand hoping against hope. So, I totally get that look in her eye when she offered the invitation. Sadly, I think she understood the look in my eye that said something like "ain't no way in hell we're showing up."

Not to be mean, but if I'm not going to regular church for Easter (God willing), why would I show up for a second-hand religion's simple ceremony? Yes, the blogging fodder would be AMAZING, but I'm simply not up to it tonight -- need I remind you what's coming on?

With only three days to go, my plans for a sacrilious Easter are looking pretty, pretty, good.

What could possibly go wrong?

COUNTDOWN TO EASTER-GEDDON II

2009-04-07T20:16:00.000-07:00

Did I tell you that I almost joined a church?

Yeah, it was last Sunday.

Actually, it started Saturday when I saw a really attractive flyer in my door. It was someone changing a tire except the tire was colored like the planet earth. Corny? Maybe, but it got to me (That's part of the image above with the best part inexplicably cut off -- damn technology).

So I read on.

"Why does Easter matter? Because through the life of Jesus Christ, God's love has been unleashed in the world."

Perhaps I should have seen that coming since the url emblazoned on the flyer was celebrateeaster.net but I soldiered on mainly because I saw stuff like this:

"his followers here in your neighborhood are sheltering the homeless, caring for the elderly, providing volunteers in our public schools - and reaching out around the world to combat global poverty and HIV/AIDS, and doing many other things that really matter."

Despite my lack of religion, I do like to help people, even if it means hanging out with church folks or even, gulp, going into a church to do so.

So, last Sunday, I called the number on the flyer for the church nearest me.

Here's a somewhat fabricated transcript:

"Hello, I got a flyer in the mail and I'm interested in helping out in our community."

"Great, will you be coming to church on Sunday?"

"Uh, no but . . . ."

"Good-bye."

Actually, the call was longer than that and the guy ended up giving me some very useful, non-church related contacts, but the it did end that way.

Indeed, they weren't looking for people to help out necessarily as much as they were looking for butts to fill their seats during Easter, which is like the Superbowl of Christian holidays. No, that would Christmas. Easter is like the Final Four of Christian Holidays, you know, only for the die-hard (pun intended) fans who are REALLY into the game. Whereas pretty much ANYBODY who gets off the boat or crosses the border "gets" Christmas. It's flashy, fun and gives everyone an excuse to spend more time in Best Buy and Target.

So, it looks like I fell for the the old-bait-and-switch. It's the way Time Share companies get you to sit through 90-mins of pressure sales and slideshows on the promise of a free Disney vacation. Actually, that's a lot like church -- mandatory torture with the promise of prefabricated bliss (and, usually, another 90-minute lecture on why you should opt-in).

It's kind of like how I started this blog with saying I almost joined a church when in actuality, that's no where near the truth. But it got you to waste 90-some seconds on reading what some (mostly I) would call bliss.

COUNTDOWN TO EASTER-GEDDON!

2009-04-02T06:58:00.000-07:00

Oh, it's on baby!

With Easter only a week away, the subtle battle to get my children into church has just gone digital. My in-laws are getting desperate. Remember the day before election night, the Republicans dragged Rev. Wright out again in those scary commercials? Yeah, it's getting that desperate.

QUICK RECAP: A few weeks ago, my wife's aunt sent our daughters some very pretty, very useless Easter dresses. Earlier this week, my mother-in-law, the first female deacon of her church, began asking about our Easter day plans of which we have none. If I'm not mistaken we'll be at Hershey Park the day BEFORE Easter but somehow I don't think those dresses will fly there.

Just yesterday, however, my mother-in-law fired off the following email to my wife and brother-in-law:

DAILY DEVOTION
Direct Your Children in the Right Path
Proverbs 22:6 (NLT)

I was really blessed when I heard my 3-year-old grandson tell the story of Jonah and the whale from a toddler’s perspective. I was blessed by the fact that my son and daughter were teaching him the Word of God at an early age. . .nothing is as important as bringing up your child in the fear and admonition of the Lord. In Proverbs 22:6 we find these words that encourage us to impart to our children the ways of the Lord: "Direct your children onto the right path, and when they are older, they will not leave it." The writer is clear that the training must start at an early age, so that when they become mature they will not depart from the ways of the Lord. He also recognizes the importance of the parents themselves walking in the ways of the Lord.

In other words: PLEASE, please, PLEASE take my grandchildren to church this Easter.

Trouble is, my wife is stubborn and will keep our children out of church JUST because she's being pushed to do it. Me, I honestly don't think I've ever been in church on Easter -- historically I spend that day gorging on chocolate rabbits and picking that plastic grass out of my sheets -- so I don't know what I'm missing. Besides, celebrating the death and supposed resurrection of a thousand-year-old Jewish guy by listening to another guy hoot and holler for three hours sounds EXACTLY like the last thing I'd like to do with my Sunday.

But back to the email.

Here's what I find ironic about it. Both my wife and her brother were raised in church. They sang the songs, went to Sunday school, performed in plays -- the whole kit and caboodle. In other words, they were on the "right path" so says the email, and yet . . . neither of them attend church now unless its for a funeral, wedding or a guilty trip while visting their mom. I'm not sure either would pass the Christian litmus test.

On top of that, both married people outside their "faith" and none of our kids can tell you the difference between Noah and Nebakanezer. You know my story, but you don't about my brother-in-law's wife. Raised as a Jehovah's Witness, she has since defected and become a super non-JW Christian. Well, not really, but she celebrates Christmas like nobody's business which is a cardinal sin for JWs. That and being taken seriously. In short, she's as much a Jehovah's Witness as I am a giraffe.

Ok, so here's the point. The email says if you raise your children to be Christians then they will remain that way. But as I see it, if you don't teach them to value it or really understand it and just regurgitate the myths and fear (which are fun) then odds are they WON'T stay "on the path."

So what if you're NOT raised with a religion? Does that mean you'll . . . stray off the . . . oh shit . . . I never considered that. I may have just made my blog obsolete.

All Dressed Up . . .

2009-03-29T18:14:00.001-07:00

These are my daughter's Easter dresses.

They were given to us by my aunt-in-law Cheryl (is that right?) for the great African-American tradition of getting gussied up for Easter service.

But wait, you ask, does that mean I'm going to church this year?

Fret not, Thirdsies, I will not be at church for Easter -- I'm actually looking to make 2009 a completely church-free year -- so keep your fingers crossed. You know it, I know it and so does Aunt Cheryl. But this is the latest passive-aggressive missive in the largely silent, but deadly war between myself and my wife's devout relatives.

Want another example?

Every year, we get Christmas cards from her Aunt Sharon who never forgets to add, in her own hand-writing, "Never forget, Christmas is about the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ -- so get to Church before your soul is reduced to a bubbling strip of hell-bacon."

She doesn't actually write that last part, but it is implied.

About two years ago, my wife's theological entertaining of Jehovah's Witnesses, threw her whole family into a tizzy. They all volunteered two hands and both shoulders in the tug-of-war to save her soul -- all doing their part to wrestle her back to Baptism and back to church.

During a conversation with her Aunt Sharon, my wife mentioned that she was still keeping her options open in terms of religion -- you know just dating and not committing to one supreme diety just yet. And, being the understanding and loving aunt that she is, Sharon said kindly: "You don't want to go to hell do you? What about your kids, don't you want them to go to heaven?"

Sweet, no?

And, really, at the middle of this war is our lovely daughters, who, for all my in-laws know, are graven-image-worshipping heathens in desperate need of saving. Hence, these Easter dresses which were either washed in Holy Water or equipped with a tractor beam that pulls the wearer to the nearest Easter Service. If not, the next time these dresses find themselves in church will be when they're picked up as donations.

So far as Easter is concerned, I have no idea what we're doing. We'll be at my parents so, you know, no chance of church there. But the month is still early so anything could change.
Trust me, if I end up at church, you'll be the first to read about it.

Shake Your Ass for Jesus

2009-03-15T13:57:00.000-07:00

Question: What's the difference between a Sunday Church service and an ecstacy-fueled, UK rave party?

Answer: Not very much.

If you do a search on youtube for "baptazia" you'll find a collection of videos featuring footage of church-goers "catching the holy ghost" dubbed over with frenetic, drum and bass music. The result . . . well, take a look for yourself.

Ok, there are simply too many gems in this to pull out the best, but my favorite moment comes at roughly 2:33 when a woman calmly pulls her unsuspecting toddler out the way from the guy's flying feet of fury.

Jesus is My N*gga

2009-03-15T09:11:00.001-07:00

So, I'm bouncing around the interwebs Sunday afternoon and I bump into none other than Black Jesus (no, not Leon from Madonna's video).

Turns out, not only did this dude die for all our sins (allegedly) but he is funny as shit!

Watch a couple of these skits (courtesy of Aaron MacGruder) and if you don't laugh, know that Black Jesus will come for you like a thief in the night and break your pinkie toes.

What I love most, these videos are 100% biblically accurate.

Here's another one:

Yes, I'm a Twit

2009-03-15T06:15:00.000-07:00

Just like everybody else online, this blog is now on Twitter.
So now, instead of waiting for my updates you will see what I'm doing ALL THE TIME!

Drink the kool-aid here.

WWJD -- Who Would Jesus Do?

2009-03-12T18:20:00.000-07:00

Even a heathen like me thinks there is some truth in the bible, namely the verse about not judging others for fear of being judged.

Having said that, I was on the website www.sexinchrist.com the other day and I thought this would be a perfect time to discuss it.

Don't worry why I was there, I was just there, OK?

Here's a brief trip through the chapters of the site.

Ready?

I actually doubt it, but anyway:

"Threesomes Within a Christian Marriage"

"Anal Sex and God's Will"

"A Proposal for a Christian Pornography"

Curious? Still willing to press on? Good, here are few excerpts

"for a young woman who has never engaged in sexual intercourse, having anal sex allows her to preserve her virginity (i.e., maintain an intact hymen) until marriage. There is no greater gift that a bride can give than to offer her pure, unsullied maidenhead to her husband on their wedding night."

You hear that ladies? God wants you to give your man anal. If only to perserve your precious, precious virginity.

Ready for another?

"Aside from swallowing semen as a measure to prevent the waste and spillage of seed, ingesting ejaculate can have spiritual benefits."

I mean, I've heard Christianity used to prove a LOT of things -- slavery, homophobia, Obama as the antichrist -- but even I was taken a back by this site. There's agenda and then there's agenda.

Dude, if you want to validate your sexual kinks, look to Hindu and the Kama Sutra. Not the fucking Bible.

Naturally, you'd think I'd be all in for a sexual misreading of the bible, but even I have a limit on bullshit and this site, my friends, is bullshit.

I've read the bible (well, most of it) and there's not a lot of justification for anal sex in there, nor gangbangs. Methinks the authors of sexinchrist.com are trying to prove something to themselves -- that their kinky ways are somehow supported by their Puritanical upbringings.

Look, if you want to justify your proclivity for threesomes via the New Testament, I say more power to you. But just don't expect the rest of us to buy it.

Oh, and to answer the question the title of this blog asks (Who Would Jesus Do?) -- according to sexinchrist.com, it would be a woman who's into porn, threesomes, anal and/or oral sex.

Soooo, I'm gonna guess Jada Fire. Yes, Jesus would totally do porn star Jada Fire. Here's her not-safe-for-work profile.

Don't think she's HIS type? Check out this shocking video:

via videosift.com

Some Conjurer of Cheap Tricks

2009-03-08T17:31:00.000-07:00

I am a wizard.

I know I've never mentioned it before, but really it just came up yesterday.

It was a beautiful day in suburban Maryland so the whole fam was outside chilling and inevitably, we ended up across the street with my daughters' best friends -- the Jehovah's Witnesses.

Now, my children know that I am a wizard and ask me to do tricks all the time -- namely pushing a crayon (or something else small enough to conceal in my hand) into my ear and pulling it out of one of their ears.

So yesterday, my youngest (who has no idea that Jehovah Witnesses abhor magic almost as much as birthday parties) asked me to conjure up my famous trick right in front of the four kids across the street -- the same four kids who go to Kingdom Hall every week and occasionally ask me if I "know Jesus."

Needless to say, they were enthralled! After they saw me push a purple Crayola into my ear and pull it out of my youngest's nose, they all became fans/heretics. Suddenly, they were all lining up to be my next partner in blasphemy. Soon I was pulling crayons out of ears, noses and underarms, seranded by a chorus of "oohs" and "aahhs" from the children.

Their mother, a lovely woman who I genuinely like, sat quietly observing and piping up only to nervously say "Oh, kids. They believe anything at this age."

Which is true. Very true. Namely, that a virgin could give birth or a man could live in the stomach of a whale for three days and three nights (sounds like a time share pitch doesn't it?). I mean, if a cheap parlor trick makes you worry about your children's theological future or makes you question your faith, I would consider getting a maintenance plan the next time you go to chur . . .er Kingdom Hall.

"The Shack" Attack

2009-03-07T08:56:00.000-08:00

Ok, ok, it's on.

Perhaps she didn't know it, but yesterday, in my kitchen, my mother-in-law threw down the theological gauntlet.

"You know you should read 'The Shack,'" she offered, putting on the best imitation of nonchalance I've seen in a while.

This all started because I was asking questions about becoming a deacon, something my mother-in-law is studying for at the moment. This segued into a general conversation about religion, of which she knows I have none.

And that's when she fired off her literary suggestion. But suggesting I read "The Shack" is like telling your fat friend to read something by Richard Simmons. It's less of a recommendation and more of a threat, it's a taunt to change your ways. I realize you don't know me, but I don't cotton to threats too kindly --- so I reckon I'ma read that book (sorry, intellectual challenges make me talk like Old West prospecters). Today I am going to the library to go get "The Shack" and you lovely readers should expect regular updates as I read it and share my excellent thoughts.

But before I start with my weeks long review, you should get a little background.

Here's what I know about "The Shack."

1. I almost picked it up last summer because I thought it was a Dean R. Koontz book (if you see the cover, you'd understand).

2. My main man Hank Hannegraf (radio's Bible Answer Man) does NOT dig the book, saying it made him "more than just a little queasy." Now, considering that I only like Hank in an ironic way (see my earlier post about him), I'm not sure how to take his criticism but there you go.

Honestly, I'm not expecting much from "The Shack," mostly because all the Christian fiction I've read or seen is just really bad (remind me to tell you about the failed "Left Behind" experiment of 1999 -- I got six pages in before hitting eject). I understand that Christian fiction are morality plays, but do they have to FEEL like morality plays, much less plays for fifth graders?

I point to Kirk Cameron to make my point:

Take this scene from "Fireproof," Kirk's latest God-happy flick about a fireman trying to save his marriage. If only I could figure out what I'm supposed to learn from this scene.

Anyway, you get the picture. My expectations are low, but I'm willing to read -- especially because it's free. Honestly, at this point, the only thing I'm dreading more than reading the book is going to the library to get it. It's like going to the porn store where you are firmly judged as one of THOSE kinds of people. I realize I don't owe everyone an explanation but I feel like I need to tell the librarian "I'm only reading this book to snark all over it, not because I need enlightenment."

Hmm, maybe I'll just print it on my t-shirt -- "I Read Christian Literature For My Blog." Consider it done.

The Day the Church Stood Still

2009-02-28T19:02:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is the BIG day.

Can you feel it? It's like, it's like . . . electricity.

No, it's not Arbor Day (that's in May - I think).

It's . . . .it's . . . Take a Black Male to Worship Day.

That's right on Sunday, March 1, 2009, every man, woman and child is morally obligated to take a black man -- any black man -- to church.

Doesn't sound familiar?

Well, according to the email from my mother-in-law Take a Black Male to Worship Day is "sweeping the nation."

And you know me (actually maybe you don't), I have my Sunday best already -- HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHH! Ok, I couldn't even finish writing that without laughing.

Truth is, the email did not come to me, it came to my wife. To be honest, my mother-in-law forwards her EVERYTHING that comes into her inbox, so perhaps this was just another email, but somehow I think her sending this message to my wife had more purpose.

If you're new to my blog, you don't know that my mother-in-law is an ardent Baptist, the first female deacon at her church and overall fan of the J-man and all his greatest hits. While she is well aware of my rampant heathenism, I've never been fully convinced that she's as cool with it as she seems. From the moment my wife and I started to date seriously, I've been waiting for the big "we know you're a god-less heathen and we love you but . . . " conversation. And yet, it's never come.

Nevertheless, I suspect the email was not just a regular forward but a not-so veiled attempt to get me, and most importantly, her religiously-ambiguous daughter, into church.

It's not going to work. The closest participating church is in Wilmington, Delaware -- a good hour and 45 minutes from here. Considering that there are four churches less than a mile from my home that I already ignore, what do think the chances are of me visiting one in another state? Here's a hint: it rhymes with "Nero." If you want me to go to church, you'd have to promise that it would be 30 minutes or less, I could wear what I wanted and could openly challenge the pastor at any moment by yelling "THAT'S BULLSHIT!" Oh yeah, and there would need to be a weekly screening of "Star Wars: Episode III" for good measure. Or maybe I would just have to read this book.

Seriously though, the idea behind the day is very nice -- showing that men are role models in the Black community. I get it and appreciate it, but somehow I doubt we'll see the same turn out as we did for the Million Man March, or even the first midnight showing of the "Dark Knight." Still, I think it's a great idea for those already going to church.

Me? I suspect that tomorrow at 10am I will be in my basement robbing a bank or some other criminal endeavor on Grand Theft Auto IV. But rest assured, right after that I will spend some precious time with my kids and wife. Actually, she'll be at the gym. but RIGHT after that, we will spend some quality, family time. And by "family time" I mean watching TV.

Make that "lovingly watching TV."

Oh, you get the point.

PS: That image at the top of the blog, yeah, it took me 10 minutes to find it. So maybe this day is beyond my snarky reproach.

If There is a God, He Looks Like . . .

2009-02-15T18:22:00.000-08:00

Danny Glover.

Yes, Morgan Freeman is a good choice but I have to believe God has a really kick-ass dental plan and wouldn't let his teeth look like his dentist is employed at Shawshank.

Apparently my oldest daughter agrees, or at least, THINKS God should look like Danny Glover.

How do I know, you ask?

I blame Black History Month. Or at least the Black History Month posters in her school that cause her to ask questions about Martin Luther King and Whites Only water fountains.

Well, it all starts with racism. Or at least, my definition of it. Even in this age of Obama, and the fact that we live in a predominately Black area, my wife and I still feel it necessary to tell our daughters about good ole' USA-Prime racism.

So last night, as I was reading "The Story of Ruby Bridges" to my two girls, the question of racism came up.

My eldest asked why the little girl wasn't allowed to go to school with the other children.

"Because back then White people didn't think Black people should go to school with them."

"But she's not Black, she's brown."

"Well, that's what we call ourselves."

I won't bother you with the back and forth about the actual color of people but you might imagine it took some time.

And then, from left field, she asked "what color was God when he was a man?"

CUE THE RECORD SKIP

First off, that's a clear Christian concept. Not angels, not the la-di-da big poppa in the sky idea. No, that was a question born of a Christian agenda. One I suspect she got from hanging out with her friends across the street -- you know the Jehovah's witnesses.

Instead of tying her to a chair and interrogating her about this new wrinkle in her growing theology, I asked simply:

"Do you mean Jesus?"

"Yeah."

"Well, he was brown like you and me." Now, I don't know that he looked like Mekhi Phifer or Kanye West, but he probably looked more like Barack than Barry Manilow.

She chewed it over a minute and then replied:

"Good."

Well, I can't argue there.

Barack Obama is the Antichrist

2009-01-26T18:09:00.000-08:00

First off, happy new year. I haven't posted since Thanksgiving, which is really sad. Needless to say my resolution in 09 is to blog more often. And since this is my first post of the year, I figured I'd start with a doozy -- namely that I have discovered a horrible truth likely to shake the world.

Barack Obama is the antichrist.

Or at least, he very well could be.

Shocked?

Well, I have proof.

Ok, I don't have the proof but the God-fearing people at http://o.bamapost.com/ do.

Witness the following IRREFUTABLE facts taken directly from the site:

"Revelation 13:5 And there was given unto him a mouth speaking great things and blasphemies; and power was given unto him to continue forty and two months.

Obama has spoken great things about "Change" and new prosperity for the world, written a book called "The Audacity of Hope." Many would say his argument that he is the best pro-life candidate is a blasphemy. 42 months is about the length of a presidential term."

Eerily accurate, no? I mean this couldn't possibly be any other presidential candidate, right? Truth is, as a child of the 80's Ronald Regan was considered the best antichrist candidate because all three of his names all have six letters. Not to mention that if you play his first state of the union address backwards it says "Satan is the cat's pajamas. If there was one person I would play boggle with it would be the horned-devil himself."

Want to know what's scarier? When I shared the website with my co-workers no one laughed. Instead they looked scared, saying, more or less, "Yeah I heard about that. I hope its not true."

Note the ironic use of HOPE here. I did.

Granted, I don't believe in the antichrist, or even the prochrist (if such a person exists), but I really didn't think anyone took this shit seriously. Not even the truly devout or recently converted (who I have found believe in EVERYTHING).

One of my co-workers, a young woman named Vanessa (not her real name) who is very devout to be so young -- at least in my book -- was leading the "maybe" charge.

She said "Well, I don't think it's true but it's possible. I mean, the bible has predicted hundreds of events that have come true."

Before I could stop myself, I proclaimed -- "I really need to see that list."

She went on to say that we would really know if Obama was the anti-christ if we have seven years of peace and Obama would make Palestine and Israel sign a peace treaty that would last seven years.

I asked if Israel and Palestine were aware that Obama was the antichrist (allegedly) because those motherfuckers have never stopped fighting. But that plain fact did not disturb their fear, I mean, faith.

Later that evening, Vanessa emailed her sources for proving the bible had proved its worth through accurate predictions. She prefaced the email by saying that while she was not able to find a site that listed all the proven prophesies, she found one that listed at least eight. The site is raptureready.com, which I presume is for those preparing to vanish from earth like blinking christmas lights.

Anyway, the site proves that the bible is the word of God because it accurately predicts that:
A. Jesus would be born of a virgin
B. He would be born in Bethlehem
C. He would like animal crackers

If you ask me, this is about as valid as saying that Star Wars: Episode 1 -- The Phantom Menace is true because it accurately predicted the coming of Darth Vader. Look, I'm not here to change anyone's mind or tear down their faith, but you have to understand that to a non-believer, all this talk of anti-christ and Obama is fuckin' bananas. Not just because Obama is a proven good (can you tell I voted for him) but because the tell-tale signs of being the anti-christ is about as specific as the astrology readings in the daily paper.

My Daughter is a Believer -- I Think

2008-11-30T17:44:00.000-08:00

Stop the presses! No sooner had I pressed "publish" on my last blog (luxuriate in its heathenistic deliciousness right here), did my wife hand me my eldest daughter's Thanksgiving assigment for her second grade class.

First off, it's precious -- as is pretty much everything she does.

But what surprised me is what she is thankful for.

She said all the things I expected like; "The food I eat," "for my pets," "my mom and dad" and "friends."

And then . . .

She writes "I am thankfull for god" -- which the teacher corrected with a capital "G."

Honestly, I have no idea where that came from -- perhaps my mother-in-law's bible story campaign is actually working. I mean, it was barely a month ago when she asked if she was a Christian and found out her father was not. So maybe she is legitimately looking for spirituality or, as I suspect, is responding to living in America which sort of makes you a default believer (Did I mention we said grace at our company thanksgiving potluck?). I mean, God is in our pledge and on our money, so I shouldn't be surprised that its in my daughter's homework. But for some reason I am.

From what my parents told me, my only inquiries about God were all tied to Star Wars (read that tender piece of hilarity right here), so either I'm not normal or my daughter is, but somehow I think it's me.

Separation of Church and Soap

2008-11-30T16:51:00.001-08:00

While my mother-in-law hasn't given up hope in converting my children to Christianity via illustrated bible stories and Christmas plays, I'm pretty sure she's given up on me -- not that she tried too hard.

However, I think she has spies.

Which brings me to today as I was showering (calm down ladies, there are no pictures or video -- unless you pay).

Apparently, my soap is trying to convert me.

I never paid attention to it before, but our purple and white bottle of Dr. Bronner's all-purpose soap is literally covered in religious rhetoric.

Here's a taste (which starts off nice enough): "The whole World is our country, our fatherland, because all mankind are born its Citizens! We're all Brothers & Sisters because One, ever-loving Eternal Father is our only God, & all-One-God-Faith reunites God's legion."

Now, right off the bat, the word "legion" scares the shit out of me. Pehaps because it sounds like "lesion" another nasty word, but probably because for some reason I think of the devil when I hear that word. Isn't satan quoted with saying "I am Legion?" Maybe that was Lex Luthor. Either way, those are both bad people (and fictional) but the word leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Here's another quote: "The 2nd coming of God's Law! Mohammad's Arabs, 1948, found Israel Essence Scrolls & Einstein's 'Hillel' prove that as no 6-year-old can grow up free without the ABC, so certain can no 12-year-old survive free without the Moral ABC mason, tent & sandalmaker Rabbi Hillel taught carpenter Jesus to unite all mankind free in our Eternal Father's great All-One-God-Faith!"

Now, I've never met a crackhead (at least not formally) but I'm pretty sure that Dr. Bronner was on something when he made the marketing decision to splash religious gobbeldy-gook all over his fine product. I mean the irony is that someone who has the sentence structure and historical accuracy of a stumbling hobo has ended up making a terribly good soap.

However, after doing some research it turns out Dr. Bronner was a crusading Jewish soap maker from Germany whose parents were killed in Nazi Death Camps, so yeah, if you're asking if I feel like an ass for calling him a hobo, I kind of do. But still, if Dove soap started proclaiming the second coming of anything, I like to think we'd have a national fit.

Truth is Dr. Bronner's is a natural, hemp soap so its very possible anyone using it is just too high to pay attention. And really, who cares what a bunch of weed-smoking, vegans think about separation of church and soap?

I'm Gay for Gay Marriage

2008-11-25T19:12:00.000-08:00

So surpise, surprise -- the godless-heathen is for gay marriage. Shocker, right?

Actually, what I'm surprised at is that Ashton Kutcher is, too.

Well, maybe not surprised that he's for it, considering that he's one of those leftist-marxist, Hollywood types (you know, tofu, Prius, cavorts with "coloreds"). But I think I was shocked at how much he and I agree on the subject of man-on-man nuptials. Watch Ashton go positively heathenistic in his assesment on why Prop 8 is even a discussion (Fast forward to about 1:30 into the video).

See, right? Until this point the only thing I thought Ashton Kutcher and I had in common was lusting after his wife when we were children. Truth be told, I find Demi a bit too bony these days. She has that I-don't-eat-meat-and-have-no-subcutaneous-fat-anymore (Sadly, one of my other "80's ladies" Lisa Bonet is going the same way).

But according to the poll, I'm not the only here who thinks gay folks should be able to legally tie the knot. If you look at the poll on the right 100% of you (which equals roughly 2 of 2 voters) agree with gay marriage.

Right now, a lot of states offer "civil unions" which, to a brother like me, sniffs of "separate but equal." And Mr. Moore is right, this is only an issue because most of us have been raised Christians and men poking men or ladies licking ladies is not kosher. Even for those of us who are "cool" with it, many don't think they should be married in the same way "we" are. Many black folks also consider calling gay folks struggle to marry as a Civil Rights struggle to be blasphemy. I don't agree, which makes me a heathen in two worlds.

However, my wife has a great solution to this whole mess. And considering that she is/was a Christian, I think you should listen up.

She says the term "marriage" should apply to everyone -- gay, straight or Republican -- but for those who want to announce their opposition to gay rights can call their union a "Religious Marriage." So instead of amending the fucking constitution, let's just the bozos call their shit something different. Brilliant, right? That's only half of why I married her. The other half is not fit for this blog.

Self Portrait

2008-11-19T17:59:00.000-08:00

Everyone . . . my calling card.

One of my friends (Badasschick) sent me a link to this website called The New Humanist, a UK magazine thats been around since 1885. It's a mag for "free thinkers" of which, apparently, I am one.

I mean, how could I deny it when the image above so clearly captures all of my various idiosyncrises and tics?

Logic? Check.

Reason? Check.

Sarcasm? Well, duuhh!

Large ears and glasses? Only on Tuesdays.

Honestly, I don't know that I like the idea of throwing myself in with such a dorky looking gang, but considering the alternatives, I guess I don't really have a choice.

Easy as ABC

2008-11-18T17:08:00.000-08:00

I'm a whore.

Actually whores get paid and also get a lot of cardiovascular excercise "on the stroll" so that's probably not a good description.

I also don't get paid to do this, so that makes me something decidedly less than a whore.

What's the point, you ask?

My hotmail account had been down for weeks (probably because I opted NOT to take a stupid tour of the "exciting new mailbox features" ) and when I finally got in there, I saw an email from this guy at ABC. "ABC" is not me giving some made up company name -- I'm talking ABC, American Broadcasting Corporation; home of "Lost," "Pushing Daises" and roughly 40 other shows I have never watched.

Nevertheless, this guy didn't know that but he seemingly knew that Reports from the Third Kingdom would be the FIRST place to come to get some much needed viral campaigning. He knew I would be the perfect person to publicize (read: say something nice) about "Life on Mars" starring my former wife Lisa Bonet. He knew I was an attention-whore who dreams of nothing more than seeing my blog's name in some ABC promo saying something like:

"It's goddamned good TV!" says B.Cause at thirdkingdom.blogspot.com

"I'd leave my wife if this show would marry me" whines B.Cause at thirdkingdom.blogspot.com.

And he would have been right if my hotmail was working!

So, here's a little post-coital hug for "Life on Mars" which premiered some weeks ago:

"Lisa Bonet is sizzlingly sexy."
"Just when I was ready to throw my tv out the window, this show saved my Thursdays."
"Makes me wish the 70's never went away."
"I have found a new purpose in life and it exists between 9 and 10 ET on ABC Thursdays."

Now if that's not quoteworthy, well dammit, I don't know what is!

By the way, I'm TOTALLY going to send this blog to the ABC guy.

Yes, I'm that desperate.

And now back to your regularly scheduled heathenism.

The Big Question

2008-11-15T08:55:00.000-08:00

"Daddy, am I a Christian?"

This is what my 7 year-old daughter asks me today as I pick her and her 3 year-old sister up from a slumber party this morning.

Now, I've dodged a lot of existential bullets from her ("How did God make trees?," "Is Great Pop-Pop in heaven?"), but this was undodgable.

Lucky for me, I've become a bit more bold with my heathen pronouncements as of late. Around Halloween, her good friend JD, whose house she was at last night, developed a fear of devils ("not the red ones," my daughter assured me, "just the blue ones"). So when she asked me if I was afraid of devils, I told her I was not.

"Why not?" All big eyes and wonder.

"Because devils don't exist." I didn't even flinch as I wiped out the king meanie of Christianity, and, by default, it's main recruiting tool.

"But JD says . . ."

"Honey, JD is six. Who do you believe, him or me?"

The fact that she didn't answer right away concerned me.

Which brings me back to this morning.

"Daddy, am I a Christian?"

I'm no Bill Cosby, but even I realized this would require a little something called tact, or as I like to call it, "verbal tap dancing."

"Well, honey that depends on what you believe. Christians believe that Jesus is the savior of mankind. Do you believe that?"

"What's a savior?"

From there it was Christianity 101 taught by yours truly, which if there are any Hollywood execs reading, should be a TV show.

"Did Jesus die?" "Did God die?" "Did God go to heaven when he died?"

I give Christians credit because I have a hard enough time teaching her how to tell time on an analog clock, I can't imagine teaching the holy trinity. Not to mention, if you can explain the physics involved with Noah's Ark without laughing, you're either a great liar or a very dedicated believer.

However, what struck me most is that I really, really, don't want my daughters to be indoctrinated with a belief system they have little to no chance of ever understanding in a rational way. I'm not saying they can't be christians, just not yet. Like sex, drinking and cell phone use, they should at least be teenagers before they go down that path.

As it is with most bloggers, eventually the conversation came back to our favorite subject -- me.

"Daddy, are you a Christian?" She asked.

"No, I'm not" I said.

It felt good, honestly. Maybe because I knew my daughter would not judge me for my lack of faith or wonder if I had any morals or a spiked tail in my pants. She just accepted that her father was not a Christian, which didn't make him a bad person.

I hope she's as understanding when she discovers that while I'm no Christian, that I am indeed, Santa Claus.

My Religious Experience

2008-11-11T20:09:00.000-08:00

It happened.

It finally fucking happened.

On Oct. 28 I had a religious experience.

I'll be honest, Jesus was nowhere around, not unless he was parading as the woman in the Redskins jacket behind me. But shape changing is something I believe only God does (at least he does in the movies and TV shows like "Saving Grace" and "Joan of Arcadia") -- truth is, any person who claims to be God would a get a polite nod from me as I backed away to a safe, distance.

No, my religious experience was based around another swarthy man who mostly goes by one name -- Obama.

And before you ask, Obama did NOT appear at the foot of my bed in the middle of the night nor did he carry me across a beach leaving only his footprints in the sand.

In fact, Obama did not appear before me at all.

That did not stop me from standing outside.

In the cold.

And rain.

For an hour.

And a half . . .

just to cast my absentee ballot for Barack Hussein (yeah I wrote it) Obama.

Now, I don't pretend to know what it was like to march during the Civil Rights Movement or follow Moses through the desert for 40 years, but goddammit if standing in that shit weather felt like a huge, biblical sacrifice.

And for what? Would Obama really win (remember this was Oct. 28 so I didn't know I would be part of history)? At the time, it was still entirely feasible that Sarah Palin would be the American Vice Pre . . . even now I can't finish typing that sentence, but you get the idea.

That's when I realized that voting is an act of faith. It's casting hope into a void for someone you've never met or will ever see with your own eyes. It's a well wish for someone else to triumph and make YOUR life better.

Standing in that line felt a little like prayer or how I think prayer is supposed to feel.

And yeah, it was kind of nice being huddled there with strangers who couldn't help but smile through the misery. We smiled because we all put our hearts and frozen fingers on a future we could only wish for.

I guess what grandma said is true: Voting works.

Blogging at a Funeral

2008-08-09T15:05:00.000-07:00

I'm an asshole.

My friends and family would never say it, but I can't help believe that anyone who sees a funeral as a potential to write a "witty post" could have a very solid moral center. Not to mention I laugh at biblical puzzles.

So yeah, I'm an ass. But since you're already here, I'll have a go at it.

I made my yearly trek to church this past year. Sadly, it was to say our final goodbyes to my wife's grandfather, who had suffering through the dignity-stealing Alzheimer's disease. It was sad to see him go, but worse to see him suffer.

The funeral took place at my wife's family church -- though her mother has recently defected to a new church; a snazzy place with widescreen TV's and video kiosks (You can read all about my first/only visit right here). The church is over 100 years old and filled with very nice, well-meaning old people who say things like "have a blessed day" and throw salt over the shoulder to blind the devil (apparently a little Morton's is all you need to beat back Satan -- who knew?). Needless to say, I fit right in.

OK, a heathen I may be. But death visits us all and I've attended plenty of funerals. Still, I'm never sure what to say and when. I counted four times when the pastor (or passuh -- as he was readily reffered to) told every one to get up, but the section of pews I was in remained seated. So I was the asshole looking like slow kid in a game of duck-duck-goose.

Oh yeah, and what's the proper response to "God Bless You?" When I sneeze and someone says it, I say thank you -- you know, thanking them for acknowledging my brief discomfort. But the "God Bless You's" I was getting from the parade of sad strangers was more like a greeting (and even came with handshakes) and all my heathen ass could think to say was "Hey, how are you?" Like I bumped into them at Target. Awful.

Anyway, what really got my goat (I know you were waiting for me to get to this right?) was how this sad occassion, where family and friends are grieving and crying, was constantly barraged with warnings about hell.

Naturally, the deceased is heaven-bound -- no one wants to go to a funeral where the pastor says "Joe was great man, father and husband. Sadly, he was never baptised and is surely now fornicating with dead mules in hell." Truth be told, my wife's grandfather was pretty pious and died singing "Amazing Grace," so even by my standards, he's heavenbound. But what about the rest of us? Well as the passuh said "I know you didn't come here for this but heaven and hell are real. You have to ask yourself, if you don't go to sleep in Jesus, where will you wake up?"

(First off, sleeping IN Jesus sounds as icky as sleeping WITH Jesus. Better phrasing next time. )

And then, as the funeral is ending, he calls for anyone who wants to accept Jesus to come up to the pulpit because, you know, there isn't anything else happening -- might as well shore up some more business.

However, what struck me most about the funeral and all the speeches was this constant talk of death and the fear of it. As I gather, Christians are free from death because they will be resurrected in heaven where all the Starbucks are open 24-hours and your sides don't jiggle when you hit a bump on the road. It's called everlasting life and you only get it when you believe in the The Father, The Son and the Holy Ghost. It's like Comcast's Triple Bundle Package except without HD channels or multi-room DVRS.

I understand that no one wants to die. It's like being forced to take a nap while there's strippers downstairs shooting mojito mix out of their nipples and throwing free cash at you. Life is fun and death, from where I stand, looks to really suck. But I don't know that it's anything to be afraid of. Not when everything alive has to do it. Now, I wouldn't want to be the first motherfucker to ever die because I'm sure that was pretty scary. But I'm sure no one wanted to be the first person to get on an airplane, but now we all do it.

But Christians are afraid. They're afraid because, as my wife points out, the idea of hell is real. All of their life choices could leave them with permanent sunburn (don't forget mule fornication) so those last moments are really frightening. Thankfully, I don't have that baggage. And I don't want my children to either.

I'm already going to have to take Santa away one day, no need to replace him with Satan.

Bible Toys Suck Part 2

2008-07-30T18:11:00.000-07:00

So I wasn't really sure how my parents would take the blog, seeing as they are often cited in them as being fairly bad parents -- at least by Black standards -- since they didn't bother to indoctrinate me with any religion.

Yeah, turns out they love the blog -- they share it with their friends, laugh out loud. All the things I want YOU to do. They don't leave comments, so I suppose they're not perfect but, hey neither are any of you (starting to get the hint there thirdsies?).

Anyway, we were at the beach during our yearly summer excursion when I birthed the masterpiece "Bible Toys Suck." You know it and love it.

I shared it with my parents who laughed. A lot.

Shortly after reading it, they ran out to get some puzzles for my children.

They returned with two bible puzzles -- The Ten Commandments and Parting of the Red Seas -- at which we all laughed heartily which got me to wonder, if there is a hell, is laughing at bible puzzles something that gets you there faster. I don't suppose God ever thought about such an occurrence as cheap pharmacy toys hadn't been around back when God was born/invented. But surely in his/her/it's supposed infinite wisdom, I imagine there has to be a punishment meted out for mocking the sanctity of a $2, 12-piece puzzle featuring a biblical miracle.

Jesus -- I hope I'm wrong (in this case).

Bible Toys Suck

2008-07-24T17:51:00.000-07:00

Bible toys suck.

Case in point: My wife recently held a birthday party at our house for one of her friends' children. Not ours, mind you but a child I had never seen before was now having a birthday party at my house with cake, games, the whole shebang. Not to say the kid wasn't deserving. As a matter of fact the kid is super deserving since he's got a brain tumor and really hasn't had any parties on account that his two brothers are also really sick. So as you can imagine, it's kind of tough for me to find an opportunity to be a snarky asshole when presented in the face of such unabashed goodwill.

That is until . . .

One of the mothers shows up with a Samson doll (see picture above)

Hey kids, are those comic book and movie franchise heroes getting a bit too worldly? Looking for soemthing a little old-school, self-righteous and boring to play with? Well, great news! The geniuses who brought you "All Jew Babies Must Die" Old Testatment Action Set (complete with lamb's blood on every door) have banded together to bring you . . . bible action figures! Just think, now you can experience hours of mind-numbing church lessons in your very home! EVERY DAY will be Sunday -- yippeee!

Now, I was already aware that people made bible "action" figures (with both White skin AND historically-accurate beige) but I didn't think anybody, outside of ironic college students actually bought them. Much less, for real children who, I can only imagine, would be supremely disappointed to find a Moses or Nebuchannezer doll instead of Batman, Superman or a mutated, turtle trained in martial arts.

I think it's important to restate that the kid who opened said gift only has six birthdays under his belt, and of those six years, perhaps two included actual parties so he was ripe to enjoy pretty much anything that had been wrapped up and given to him. So while he wasn't as let down or shocked by the gift as I was, he never actually opened it either.

But here's why biblical toys suck. Not because they're biblical, but because bible toys aren't for kids, they're for the adults who buy them. I've done my research and found there are exactly TWO motives for buying bible toys:

1. To keep actual cool toys away from your kids for fear that the toys are satanic, evil or fun. I submit that this is parental abuse and should be a crime (I suggest starting a drive or a fund or contacting your congressman)

2. To show off your righteousness as a god-fearing parent the same way some parents love to announce "well my little Jimmy only watches two hours of TV a week, so he doesn't know anything about this Sponge, uh, Bob character."

Neither motive really takes in consideration that the kids who have to play with these toys live in the real world where teenagers bitten by radioactive spiders are actually heroes and NOT demon spawns out to teach kids about sodomy and gay marriage (which, may be the same thing in some cases).

Most importantly, the knuckleheaded parents who buy these toys seem intent on ruining a kid's imagination. Sure, I think the Bible is mostly make-believe, but 90% of this country does not, which puts bible toys in a new and possibly worse category -- HISTORICAL toys. And when's the last time your kid asked to play with an Abe Lincoln action figure?

Your kid's rampant imagination is only going to last a good 10-11 years, so why ruin it with your moral, theological hang-ups? Let them imagine a world where an orphaned boy will avenges his parents' deaths by wearing a cape and cowl. Or one where a woman named Barbara can be an astronaut, a singer AND a stay-at-home mom.

Trust me, they'll have the rest of their lives to stress over what small infraction they've incurred to deserve hell without you dangling the Jesus, Mary and Joseph "Immaculate Conception" playset in their faces.

No Mormons Allowed

2008-06-08T07:45:00.000-07:00

Don't let this entry's title fool you thirdsies (hey, if I don't keep this trend up, who will?), I am a very tolerant man. My father, however, is not.

OK, that's not really true. OK, it is but not when it comes to religion. He honestly doesn't care what faith you profess, but like most Black men born in the 1940's, he can smell racism at a million paces. In films, cartoons, cereal boxes -- the man is like a golden retriever for bigotry.

So when you see my father and want to start espousing your faith, don't be afraid -- he'll listen and only silently judge you.

But if your faith has even a whiff of racist doctrine be prepared for this Baltimore-born, West Philly raised Negro to hop directly in your face.

Case in point:

It was the year of our lord 19 and 87; Michael Jackson lost his third shade of melanin, Prince's masterpiece "Sign O the Times" was still a year away and I was in the seventh grade. It was summer, and despite the fact that we lived in Pennsylvania, I remember the day felt distinctly Houston-ish -- hot and humid enough to melt your face like a Nazi in "Raiders of the Lost Ark."

Now, like most children, I grew up thinking my father was Superman. And like supes, my dad has his own kryptonite -- heat. Remember "Superman 3" with Richard Pryor where Superman encountered red kryptonite and turned into a badly-shaven asshole? Well, that's what heat does to my dad. Not that he becomes an asshole or badly shaven but he does get damned cranky. He starts cursing more (though that might be hard to notice) and complains of sweating. Keep in the mind, this is a man who turns the AC on in the car during WINTER. Nutshell: Dude does not like heat.

Next on my father's shit list is grass, specifically, tending to it. However, since we were one of three Black families in our neighborhood, so racial pride kept him mowing, edging and weeding our lawn.

And it was on this fateful day of heat and lawn care that two Mormon boys strolled up to my father with recruitment on their minds.

"Sir, have you heard about Jesus Christ and the Latter Day Saints?"

Now, I don't know exactly what they said because I was inside enjoying the air-conditioning and NOT doing the lawn, but one thing I can be sure of is that my father had indeed heard of them.

Having spent years in hotel rooms during company trips, he took it upon himself to read the Mormon bibles while staying in Marriots. Now, without reiterating everything ( see what Mormons believe right here), the Mormons believe that Black people have dark skin and kinky hair because they were cursed by the biblical Cain (the first brother-on-brother crime in history).

So you have to imagine -- heat + lawn + racism parading as religion = the perfect storm.

Sorry -- back to the story.

"Sir, have you heard about Jesus Christ and the Latter Day Saints?" -- I imagine them asking in unison.

"Get the fuck off my lawn!" -- That part I know is true.

"Sir?!"

"I said get the fuck off my lawn. Don't come to my house with that racist bullshit!"

"Bu ---"

"How the hell do you expect me to buy into a religion where I'm a second-class citizen? I can't even get into the same heaven as White people and you expect me to join your little cult?"

"Bu ---"

"You know why Brigham Young started that shit out in the midwest? It's because he couldn't hack it in New York? The only way he could get people to swallow his bullshit was to move to the middle of fucking nowhere."

"Bu ---"

"How would you feel if I came to YOUR house and asked you to join the Black Muslims? Do you know what they think of you? How about you do that? Does that make any fuckin' sense to you?"

"Bu ---"

And then my father punched them both in the face with a single punch.

OK, that part isn't true but it's a great way to end the story as I really have no idea what happened next.

The Jehovah Witnesses' Giant Mistake

2008-05-29T04:30:00.000-07:00

To be honest, nothing terribly interesting has happened to me lately, so I figured this would be a good time to revisit my wife's spirtitual life. I understand this blog is supposed to be about me, but since we've agreed to live together forever, I might as well start co-opting her life for blog fodder. It's the least she can do.

So, for those who have been following along (I call you Thirdsies), you know that my wife's grip on her native christianity is tentative at best. Ironically, this was helped along by actually studying the bible -- or at least the Jehovah Witnesses' version of it.

The JW's have been studying with her for years now and even got her (and me) to attend their Kingdom Hall for Saturday service (an event lovingly recreated in words for you right here). And while they definitley helped her challenge her fear of hell, their years-long recruitment campaign started to wear thin when they realized they weren't making the progress they had anticipated. So, like most organized religions, they resorted to their last and best line of defense -- the fire sale.

That's right, they brought out the big guns and jumped right to Revelations a.k.a. the crazy shit at the end of the bible. It's filled with multiheaded lions, apocalyptic events, robots that turn into camaros -- it's a show.

Not to mention, they threw in this nugget: "Based on the bible, people live to their 80s. You are in your mid thirties, so your life is almost half over. And it's time to make a choice." Now what the JWs didn't know is that by erasing the concept of hell, they had affectively given away their best bargaining chip. With all the pressure to buy off the plate, my wife had no real reason to commit.

Somewhere during their "end times" spiel, they started regaling my wife with stories about giants who were the offspring of angels and humans. When my wife asked how the angels mated with humans (considering the fact, well maybe not FACT, but the idea that angels have no gender) the JWs said the angels heard so much about this "sex" thing that they took human form and started boffing Jewish women. Turns out, none of the angels wanted to be bottoms and they ALL chose to grow penises.

Apparently, that is where my wife got off the bus. She had had enough and she told them so. Ok, not immediately.

It took some time and lots of hand-wringing, but eventually my wife had to work up the nerve to tell the JWs that she was no longer interested. Seriously, it was like she was breaking up with a boyfriend, a boyfriend who looks like a 50-ish year-old Carribean woman.

But they brought it on themselves -- not just with the fornicating angels and their over-sized offspring -- but by implicating that my wife had to join up now or never. My wife would turn down a free mortagage payment if the person offering it pressured her to "act now." It's a good thing she was pregnant when we got married, otherwise I'm pretty sure my bended-knee proposal would have been nicely rebuffed with a "can I get back to you on that?"

Anyway, I say all because as a heathen, it's hard to know where other peoples's bullshit meters are. Mine tends to go off when mortal folks say they know everything about the afterlife. My wife's? 12-foot-tall angel/man hybrids.

Go figure.

In a Neighborhood Far, Far Away

2008-05-21T18:29:00.000-07:00

Now that I think of it, I can pinpoint the exact moment when I could have become a Christian. I was literally being offered a ride on the Jesus bandwagon and at the tender age of four, my heathen tendencies were already raring strong.

Intrigued?

Good.

So it was 1970-something and I was at home with my mom in our tract home in New Jersey. All you need to know is that I was a probably the most adorable child you had ever seen. Imagine Gary Coleman but without the guilt of knowing he was really a teenager trapped in a toddler's body -- wait, I'm watching "Spider-Man 3" on demand and the part where Peter fights Harry for the first time is on, gimme a minute . . . aaaand I'm back. Where was I, oh right, I was cute as a fucking button on a baby bunny.

So, as they are wont to do, a well-intentioned Christian woman was going door-to-door looking to --- wait, Sandman is being born --- recruit fresh, young minds to a lifetime of believing they are sinners by way of a Sunday school program that picked kids up right from their homes. Being four and knowing that a couple of the neighborhood children were going, I naturally wanted to go, too. You may not remember but riding on a bus at the age of four is like being offered a ride on a space shuttle now.

The crazy thing is, when I asked my mother about it, she was down for the bus ride -- kinda. Truth is, my mother was convinced everyone was trying to steal me. Actually, I'm not sure she doesn't believe it now. But surprisingly kidnapping was her ONLY objection to sending me to Sunday school. See, I was under the impression that my parents were committed to non-committal. That their own issues with religion had opened their eyes to the traps of organized religion and steeled them against any idea of raising their own precious (and incredibly adorable) son in the same idealogical quagmire.

Turns out, not so much.

Seems my mother was basically keen on the idea of sending me to Sunday school if it weren't for the threat of kidnapping. So she invited the Christian lady in to see if I was Sunday-school worthy. Naturally, the woman wants to know how much I know about Jesus and the Lord to which my mom for some reason thinks I know enough. Thank God (yeah, I said it), my father comes home from work at that time. Perhaps having a better grip on my situation, he has doubts about my theological leanings.

Here's how, I'm told, the conversation went:

"What does your son know about the Lord?," Ms. Christian Bus asks my folks.

"Oh he knows, I've been teaching him," my mom insists.

My father responds with a disapproving look that says "Bloody hell he does" (FYI --he's not British).

So, naturally they call me downstairs to see what I really know.

And down I come, "Star Wars" action figures in hand, afro at full puffitude.

"Baby, do you know who the Lord is?"

Now I have no recollection of any of this, mind you, but my answer to this question pretty much sums up my life.

"Yes mommy, Lord Darth Vader."

That's right, I knew then where my alleigance lied. More to the point, it was evident that the only place I had heard the word "Lord" was in reference to the baddest Sith bastard to roam deep space.

You could pretty much say it was a wrap after that. The woman left disgusted and my parents spent the rest of the night laughing their asses off. My spot on the Christain bus was taken by some poor sap who is probably now fretting about his eternal soul.

However, when my mother recounted the story to me earlier today, I was confused as to why she thought I knew anything about Christianity at the age of four -- as I had always remembered my life as being pretty much areligious. She replied that she had taught me a few Christian songs and a bit about the story of Jesus but in her words, "You weren't very interested."

"So was your intention to raise me as a Christian?"

"Yes, but I guess I never really got around to it."

And that, my friends, is the story of my life.

Oprah: My Wife's New Pope

2008-05-14T19:14:00.000-07:00

There are a few things you never really expect to hear your wife say:
1. "I'd LOVE to have a threesome with Sanaa Lathan!"
2. "If you don't mind, I'm going downstairs to watch Revenge of the Sith."
3. "I agree, my ass does look nice and big in these jeans."

About a month ago (I've neglected the blog, I know), my wife dropped this gem on me: "Maybe I'm not a Christian."

If you knew her you'd know this was a big deal. And if her mother read this, she would literally shit a brick. I'm half tempted to actually make my mother in law read this so I could tape the brick-shitting and a make a grip by selling the video to Guinness. Ok, that's gross (but I'd do it).

So why is this a big deal? Because like most Black folks, she has always defined herself as a Christian. She was raised in a typical Baptist church (collection plates, little white dresses, hooting and/or hollering) and unless you go whole hog and take on Buddhism or Islam, you don't just up and leave the table and cash in your chips. Why not? Because you'll go to hell.

One of the biggest advantages of being me (aside from the obvious) is that my complete lack of a religious upbringing has left me without a concept of hell. I mean, I know what people say it is, but I have literally no faith that such a place exists so I have no fear that I, or anyone else for that matter, will ever go there. In that sense, it's a lot like Lynchburg, Virginia.

But as bad a place as hell is, its a hard place for my wife to turn her back on. Despite her vocal questioning of Christian doctrine, she never really broke camp because to NOT believe -- more importantly to SAY you don't believe is punishable by an eternal trip to God's oven.

Now, I have to give credit where credit is due. The Jehovah's Witness who have been "studying" with her have opened the door to a "hell-less" spirituality. Too bad they're not coming any more (I'll explain more next time).

But the one who really drove it home was none other than the biggest spiritual leader in the freeworld: Oprah.

My wife is completely in love with Oprah's latest book choice Eckhart Tolle's "A New Earth" which my wife says "feels right." More right than the Christianity she grew up with. I think most of that has to do with Tolle's similar hell-less spirituality and idea that there is more than one way to connect with a higher power. Curiously, none of these ways mention Sanaa Lathan but I suppose I shouldn't hold that against anyone.

Anyway, my wife seems to be finding a new spirituality, one that does not fill her with dread or remorse and I can honestly say I'm thrilled -- not just because it cuts down on my church-going (once a year is a tough schedule for me), but because she seems a happier person, and isn't that what a connection with God should be about? Seriously, I'm asking because I don't know.

I look forward to your answers.

Bigger than religion?

2008-03-08T06:23:00.000-08:00

Erykah Badu has said a lot of crazy shit over the years but on her "New Amerykah" album (which, by Badu standards is a C+. I submit "Mama's Gun" remains her masterpiece. Note to E: Don't string a bunch of overlong interludes together and call it an "album") there's a nice cut called "The Healer" in which Erykah proclaims "hip-hop is bigger than religion."

Now, as someone with tons of hip-hop and no religion, you might expect me to agree with this statement except that it makes no fucking sense. To illustrate, I have come up with three reasons why hip hop is NOT bigger than religion.

3. We will elect a president who doesn't have any hip-hop affiliation (in fact some might insist). We will NOT elect a president who doesn't have a religious affiliation.

2. Israel and Palestine would not be engaged in the holy clusterfuck they are in now if the dispute were over the birthplace of hip-hop. (Unless Shug Knight ran either country and then, yeah, there would be war -- and lots of people wearing red leather jumpsuits).

1. Nobody gets in trouble for taking the Lords of the Underground's name in vain. (Youngsters look 'em up. "#1 Chief Rocka" was the SHIT!)

I understand that Erykah's bigger point is that music, quite arguably OLDER than any organized religion, holds sway over EVERYONE and definitely has an affect. And that's not to say hip hop hasn't had an effect. I mean, without hip hop do you think Maury Povich would know the brother handshake/hug so well -- check him out when he greets the next potential "baby's father." He's got that shit down pat! Without hip hop, do you think it would be acceptable for journalists on CNN to talk about giving each other "props" (and not in an ironic "isn't this funny cause I'm white?" kind of way either)?

But in terms of sheer power to mold the social landscape of human history I submit that nothing competes with that old time religion and the fear of hell.

Word.

HEATHENS!! They're . . . EVERYWHERE; sorta

2008-03-02T15:27:00.001-08:00

Apparently, I'm not alone.

In all my travels, I have yet to meet someone else like me -- A Black American raised without any specific religious faith or practice. However, according to a new Pew report, 16% of Americans consider themselves "unaffiliated" with any faith. Were the Right Wing nuts actually right? Is the progressive secular "movement" really taking over this great, faith-based world of ours?

More importantly, how can my blog sustain any of its niche cool if there are 48,568,033 fellow heathens fucking up my property value?

And while getting company should bring me comfort, it oddly does not. Don't get me wrong, I do like company (even if my wife is a little "company shy"), but if there are 50 million people like me what does that say about "me?" What does that say about my specific outlook on life as a person raised with no faith?

Unwilling to let my individuality go without a fight, I did what very few people do -- I actually READ a Pew report.

What I found was very reaffirming.

So what does "unaffiliated" mean? Pew says "secular unaffiliated" is described as "those who say that religion is not important in their lives." Hmm, OK. The report goes on to, uh, report another subsect called the "religious unaffiliated," or "those who say that religion is either somewhat important or very important in their lives."

Huh? So unaffiliated is based upon how important religion is to you? I eat food everyday but if you were to ask me how important carbs are to me, I might be an unaffiliated eater. This Pew guy seems less than accurate.

Out of the 16% unaffiliated only 1.6% are TRULY unaffiliated a.k.a atheists. 2.4% are agnostic. So . . . .yeah, no big news here, at least not for me.

The media, even the usually level-headed Bill Maher, saw this report as ground-breaking but it only confirms what I know to be true. Even as people pick up, try on and put down various spiritual hats, they still feel compelled to wear them. Mostly due to the fact that they've been wearing hats since they were children. But what about those without any baby hat-wearing experience (OK, this analogy is getting out of hand)?

The MOST interesting, though least shocking stat, was that "black Americans are the most likely to report a formal religious affiliation. Even among those blacks who are unaffiliated, three-in-four belong to the 'religious unaffiliated' category."

As I said before, when it comes to Black America, I am a dying breed. And if my reluctance to pop my eldest daughter's "God" bubble persists, I may really be the last dragon after all. But as Yoda says, "there is another" -- my 3-year old who has yet to ask about death or draw pictures of her dear old dad taking a dirt nap.

Bless her heart.

Out of (Cruise) Control

2008-02-25T18:09:00.000-08:00

OK, let me state up front that all of my knowledge about Scientology comes from an episode of "South Park." That and wikipedia. Not that I haven't had a chance to learn first hand -- there's a Scientology temple/mosque/church/labor camp right up the street from where I used to work -- but for all of my religious tourism, I never had the balls to go into that building. I was afraid I'd come out in a brown tunic and no pupils (and really no balls).

But maybe that's because I don't know any Scientologists -- or anyone rich and famous enough to be one. OK, that's flawed logic since I know TONS of Christians and some of them scare me, but at least I've gone in their places of worship without fearing a mind wipe and/or anal probe (actually as long as the mind wipe came AFTER the anal probe, I guess I'd be alright with that).

It doesn't help that Scientology is so damn secretive. Call them what you like but Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses will come to your door espousing their brand of crazy. Now, you don't have to answer the door, but they're willing to talk . . . alot.

But scientology is the one religion where you have to go fucking Sherlock Holmes to find out anything (or watch South Park like me). From what I understand, you have to pass all these tests and reach a certain level before they drop the Xenu story on you. I can't tell it better than South Park (so watch it here)but if you prefer my words to theirs (who wouldn't?) here we go: Long time ago, in a galaxy, far, far away . . . (seriously) there was an evil alien ruler named Xenu froze aliens from other planets and cast them into Hawaiian volcanos using spaceships that look like American airplanes. When their souls escaped . . . OK, you get it right? No? Good, if you did you'd be a Scientologist.

But it sort of makes sense that you have to sell a million bars of soap before you get this doozy of a story. As a video game player, I understand the logic of logging tons of hours completing tasks so you can unlock new powers and knowledge. I also understand that, like Scientology, games are created by sci-fi geeks who literally make shit up as they go along.

Having said that, stories like Noah's Arc are no more believable than Xenu and the soul catcher story but we've been living with them so long we kinda forget and forgive those who believe it (well I don't, but you know).

Anyway, I say all this because there's video of Tom Cruise talking about his faith in Scientology and everyone is falling over themselves to make fun of him. And yes, jumping on Oprah's couch is weird and so is marrying Katie Holmes but is his Xenu story that much crazier than Jonah living in a whale? If he was on there professing how he believed some guy raised a man from the dead and walked on water, some of us would be proud that he's not afraid to show his spiritual side.

I think Scientology's biggest problem is that one on hand their all hush-hush about their beliefs but then sue people for slandering them. Dude, if you believe there's a volcano in Hawaii with alien corpses in them, PROCLAIM THAT SHIT! There are people running our government who think a dude separated the Red Sea with a stick. As a matter of fact, we won't let anyone who DOESN'T believe that a man can fit two of every animal on a boat run this country.

Now who's crazy?

Why Heathens Are Responsible for Evil

2008-01-11T06:40:00.000-08:00

Guilty Admission: I listen to Evangelical radio. A LOT of it. I'm not quite sure why as I have no interest in being "saved" (an irritating term that I'm sure most Christians don't know adds to the perception that they are pompous condescending)by Jesus or any of his friends, but where else can I go to listen to folks who honestly believe witches are REAL threats and that the end of the world is coming? Since I don't attend the third grade anymore, my only option is WAVA in the Washington DC area where every weeknight during my drive home I get to hear the Bible Answer Man, some dude named Hank.

Now, before I commence to snarking I DO have to give him props for making fun of Juanita Bynum. For those that don't know (and I was one of you two months ago), Ms. Bynum is a pastor who was in the news after her perfect marriage dissolved into alleged abuse and rape. Ok, that's not why she deserves being made fun of. But have you ever heard this woman before? She starts speaking in tongues and screaming at the top of her voice and ending each utterance with "and-uh." I mean, I guess she's no different than many other Black ministers but the clip Hank played of her made her sound like a fool. Click here for some that old-timey preachin'.

Anyway, one day Hank (or BAM, as I know him) was talking about the great scam of demon posession and exorcism. So, naturally to hear a man of Christ dispel the myth of demon posession was of great interest to me. Little did I know BAM would soon be pointing his judgmental finger through my radio at me. He went on to say that while demon posession is real (shucks!), those who believe in Jesus cannot be posessed by the devil. He went on to justify through some verses which ultimately lost me but it was the equivalent of "this town ain't big enough for the both us." So who, might you ask, CAN be posessed by the devil? According to BAM, only NON-believers.

I'll let you stew on that for a minute.

Done?

Ok, so by this logic, while I do not personally believe that Lord Voldemort is real I COULD concieveably be possessed by him -- just like the guy who had old Volde's head under his turban in the first Harry Potter movie. But the difference between myself and Prof. Quirrel (didn't think I could pull that name did you?) is that He is a fictional character who also believes in the power of another fictional character Lord Voldemort. Wheras I am a real person who knows Voldemort, Harry and the mythical country of England are all figments of J.K. Rowling's billion dollar imagination.

Seems to me BAM has it backwards. ONLY those who believe in God, and thus the devil, could be posessed by either. I fear many things in life: dying in a plane crash, not living long enough to see the new Batman movie but demon posession never crossed my mind mainly because I don't believe in demons. And I would guess, statistically, the number of demon posessions of non-believers is pretty low compared to those who think the devil is real.

Just a thought, not a sermon. (Oh yea, that comes from another radio show I hear/loathe).

Ode to Mitt Romney

2007-12-09T17:49:00.000-08:00

It is not often that I feel pity for white men, much less ones who are rich, Republican and practice a religion with racist doctrines.

And yet, I felt my heart strings plucked a bit when Mitt Romney took the stage this week to defend his Mormon faith at the George Bush Presidential Library in Texas -- is it just me or do you giggle when the words "Bush" and "library" are mentioned in a sentence other than "George Bush doesn't know what a library is?"

Mitt's been under fire for being a Mormon. Check the polls and they'll tell you that Americans are more likely to sign their daughters up for "Flavor of Love 4" than vote for a mormon.

Amazingly, the hesitation has nothing to do with the inherent racism in the Mormon faith (lovingly detailed on this site: http://www.i4m.com/think/comments/mormon-racism.htm).

Got a short attention span and don't have time to read dude's site? Here's all you need to know. Take this quote from Mr. Mormon himself, Brigham Young -- the dude with the school: " . . . some classes of the human family that are black, uncouth, uncomely, disagreeable and low in their habits, wild, and seemingly deprived of nearly all the blessings of the intelligence that is generally bestowed upon mankind.

The first man that committed the odious crime of killing one of his brethren will be cursed the longest of any one of the children of Adam. Cain slew his brother. Cain might have been killed, and that would have put a termination to that line of human beings.

This was not to be, and the Lord put a mark upon him, which is the flat nose and black skin. Trace mankind down to after the flood, and then another curse is pronounced upon the same race--that they should be the 'servant of servants;' and they will be, until that curse is removed."

Nutshell: Black folks are "cursed" with dark skin and flat noses because Cain killed his brother. Now, I know there may be some self-respecting Christians out there who will find this concept ridiculous, but may I remind you that your bible teaches that childbirth is only painful because Eve ate that apple. Just a bit of perspective.

Did I say pity, earlier? As I write this, any pity I had for Mitt is quickly evaporating but before it completely disappears I want to point out the utter ridiculousness of Christian vs. Christian politics. My first ill-found feelings of pity came from the fact that I feel Mitt really felt he was part of the Christian gang. I mean, he says he believes in Jesus Christ, I presume he only believes in one God who created the universe in seven days, three wiseman, Noah, Lot's wife -- the whole shebang, right?

Trouble is, HIS particular faction of Christianity got started in the last 200 years so it hasn't had time to become as established as say Lutherans or Calvinists or any of the hundred spin-offs. So, people think of Mormonism as a cult -- and rightfully so considering it got started by a guy who says Jesus was chilling in North America (and you thought walking on water was just to get chicks). Crazy, right? Nevertheless, the idea of Jesus hanging out with Native Americans is no sillier than Jesus turning water to wine, but it's just too soon, and not to mention, too close. It's easier on the brain to believe these magical things happened a long, long time ago and in a land far, far away. Not fucking Idaho.

So, even though Mitt's got the basic DNA of being a Christian, he's not actually in the club yet. And it's not like he's the first guy to catch hell for being spiritually "left handed." Despite the fact that every U.S. president has been a Christian (they don't swear on a dictionary now do they?), even JFK caught hell for being a Catholic. Half the world is Catholic and he still got shit for it. Not sure how JFK fit cheating on his wife with a major movie star into his theology, but at least we confirmed his faith before the fucker took oath, right?

As an outsider, I guess I just don't see how the differences in practice mean all that much. I mean, forget our phobia toward non-Christian candidates. Are you telling me, if a guy goes to church on Saturday vs. Sunday he has to call a press conference? Call me silly, but I would think you'd want a guy who believes Jesus is the only way to heaven, right? Isn't that the big deal? Sure, it's still unbelievably shallow but I'm trying to understand.

The sad part is, Mitt spoke some truth during his speech. Namely this line: "Religious tolerance would be a shallow principle indeed if it were reserved only for faiths with which we agree." Great line, I just hope Mitt stands behind it when in 2012 Habeeb Muhammad throws his hat (or turban) in the presidential ring.

Peeking During Prayer

2007-11-20T18:11:00.000-08:00

Today was our company's pot luck lunch. Our break room was filled with turkey, macaroni and cheese and the guilt of knowing there would be no more work done for the rest of the day.

And seeing as I work for a Black company, no meal is complete without saying grace. That's right. For all you White folks reading this, Black companies say grace during group meals -- as politically incorrect as it is, Black companies assume you:
A. Are a practicing Christian
B. Share prayer with other folks

It's just a fact. It's not all the time, but if there's a company picnic, potluck meal or holiday dinner you should expect that heads will be bowed and Jesus' name will be invoked.

Now I'm sure if you asked everyone there, they wouldn't see anything wrong with asking their fellow co-workers to pray to Jesus -- because I'm sure they assume their co-workers would be doing it anyway. I mean we're all Black right? We all like greens, we all play Donny Hathaway during the holidays, we all think OJ's innocent, right? (at least for killing his wife. These new robbery charges look bad for Juice).

Oddly enough, we JUST had workplace harrassment training which of course focused primarily on grabbing ass and booty calendars. Not that I would even think of complaining, but when everyone in the room asks that you bow your head and pray, you can imagine a hostile environment were you to raise your hand and say "Pardon me, I'm not yet convinced there is a God or that Jesus was related to him in anyway, so I'm go ahead and chow down on these mashed potatoes."

Who knows, maybe folks would be understanding that a heathen works amongst them. Or maybe not. I'm not ready to test their understanding. Not ready for the questions, not while my paycheck is at stake.

So I made like a polite savage and grasped the hands of my co-workers (I heard later that one of my male co-workers actually moved during grace so he could avoid holding another man's hands -- no, he's not 10 years old, either) but I don't bow my head and I don't "Amen." Not that anyone knows (though I think some suspect), but I don't want to PRETEND to be something I'm not, even if everyone assumes that I really am that something. At the same time, I want to be a team player. For the same reason you laugh at an old person's joke, I just don't want to be rude.

I don't know if you can imagine, but those moments when my eyes are open and my neck extended, I feel like a deer standing in an empty field during hunting season. Except all the hunters are looking the other way, not aware of what looms feet away. If one breaks the format, if one of the faithful peeks -- I'm caught.

But, as I've said before, it's that moment I'm sadistically waiting for. Sweet exposure -- when my pretenses are laid bare and everyone discovers they've been working, laughing and living with a heathen, a non-believer. But I'm not here to mock -- ok, maybe a bit of mocking (see my entry about Jehovah's Witness). But I don't want to disrespect or belittle. Faith is important, for some. Not all. But some, and some of those people are my best friends, my family, the loves of my life.

Thumper Stickers

2007-11-11T09:23:00.000-08:00

I, like TOO many people in the Washington, DC Metro area, drive to work each day. In this time, I have read a lot of bumper stickers. However, this one caught my eye.

So . . . I get it. If you're not a Christian than it's just one well-lodged fishbone or three-car accident before you're burning for all of eternity. Right.

But as many times as I've seen this type of bumper sticker, it only recently occured to me to ask who this bumper sticker is for.

What if I'm a Jehovah's witness and don't believe in hell? Now what?

What if I believe in Allah or Buddah with the same solid fervor as the driver believes in Jesus?

What if I don't follow any religion?

More to the point, why would someone who supposedly follows a man referred to as a lamb, resort to such a pithy scare tactic to get you on their team? Why do some Christians feel the need to frighten you with promises of eternal damnation to recruit?

From what I can tell, many Christians have an inherent feeling of persecution (considering what happened to their leader, I kind of get it). THEY are afraid. So much of what they are taught -- or at least how they interpret it -- is fear-based.

God smites. He wipes out the earth on a whim. He sets down stead fast rules and then lets his own kid get snuffed. So if you think you're gonna get away with jerking off to a Victoria's Secret magazine, you are seriously, seriously mistaken.

And let's not fuck around -- fear IS a good motivator. It kept me in condoms (mostly) before I got married. It stops me from going over 80 miles an hour. It pays Brinks security $30 a month. But fear shouldn't be the ONLY motivator for choosing a religion or forging a relationship with god.

I would think you'd want to get to know god because he/she/it could bring you peace, everlasting love or endless brownies. Not just a doctor's note so you don't have to engage in an eternal game of hot foot. That's like trying to befriend the neighborhood bully so that he DOESN'T beat the shit out of you.

But I realize peace doesn't sell (though I think the brownies thing would). Sure there's the "No Justice, No Peace, Know Jesus, Know Peace" sticker, but it still implies that peace cannot be had without Jesus, without a specific belief system. Which all comes back to the fact that when it comes to religion -- it is do or die. There is no middle-ground, no room for error. Which would be great if we were talking about some objective truth. But we're talking about the teachings of a 2,000 year-old book written by people who didn't eat pork because they thought God would kill them for it. Shit, my parents can't even conclusively agree on exactly who attended their wedding -- a 30-year old event that they BOTH attended!

All of this uncertainty is frightening. And I truly believe that if I were a Christian, I would be afraid -- constantly. "Did that blow job in 1996 seal my fate?" "Did God see my dream where I slapped the shit out of my neighbor for letting his dog shit on my lawn?" Seriously, I'd consider suicide to get it over with if it wouldn't send me to hell.

So I guess I do understand the fear many Christians feel and how it shows itself in their bumper stickers. However, I don't think they consider how the things they say and paste on their Honda Civics sound to the ears of a non-believer.

Just in case one of you is reading, it sounds like close-minded, spiritual bullying. The promise of hell is not a good recruiting tool -- unless you're trying to build up the other team.

Guess Who's Got Friends?

2007-11-04T07:27:00.000-08:00

Just a quick note: I've got TWO outside folks posting comments on my blog. One goes by the name "Blah, blah, blah." The other is a real live Jehovah's Witness by the name of Tomsheepandgoats -- who has an interesting blog about his faith right here (Sorry to disappoint, but the comments you may have seen on my blog written by someone named "Q" is really my good friend from school who I bugged to leave messages -- there, the wizard of oz is revealed).

Oh yeah, and the JW's that visit my house -- they've read my blog, too. They thought it was funny; which is . . . funny, I guess. I don't know what kind of reaction I wanted from them but "liking it" wasn't the one I thought of first. However, my wife has thus informed me that while they were very interested to read the blog about my trip to their Kingdom Hall, after they read it, they stopped asking about the blog altogether. I'm not sure how to take that.

Anyway, I hope Tomsheepandgoats will be my unofficial guide into the JW faith. You know how White folks ask their Black friends all the race questions that have been bugging them ("do you really think O.J. is innocent?")? Now I have someone to pepper with minutia ("Do you guys claim the Jacksons or are they the Black sheep [beige sheep] of the JW family?).

All that to say, people are reading my blog which feels like a big success considering that I have not done one iota of marketing or hyping. So read on and enjoy the sweet, sweet blasphemy.

Death Becomes Her

2007-10-27T12:33:00.000-07:00

Death is everywhere lately.

In the time since my last post, I attended the funeral of a former colleague and good work-friend. My boss lost a relative and my other co-worker lost two of his family members.

"It comes in threes," is the wisdom I hear around work; an non-sensical expression when you consider how many people die around the world each day. Hell, forget the world. Do you know how many people die each day in Montgomery County, MD every day? I don't. But I'm sure it's a lot more than three. Do you think people in Darfur have this saying? I can just imagine a woman comforting her child saying "It comes in 300's." I don't know, it just seems terribly narcissitic and troublesome to think of God's plan for knocking people off is based on your wireless network's Friends and Family plan.

Anyway, I say all this because my impending death has been a matter of discourse lately and not just because a good friend has passed. No, my death was literally handed to me by my lovely daughter, Harlem. At six, the child is working on becoming the first Black goth girl in history. Not that she's gloomy or wears dark eye shadow, but she's got a real curiosity about death. Not really fear, like say, her fear of trying any healthy foods. Just a constant interest in morbid affairs.

Everything, in her eyes, leads to death.

"What happens if I eat too much junk food?" She quizzed me the other day while I was taking a shit.

"You may get fat and very unhealthy."

"And then what?" She needles.

"Well, you could get very sick."

"And then what?" The child is relentless.

"Well you would have to go the hospital and . . . ."

"And then I would die, right?"

Ok, so the answer is yes. And honestly, I try not to avoid discussing death or any of the hard questions in life, but seriously, it's a bit of a downer when your child peppers you with morbid facts like a pint-sized, afro-puffed grim reaper. I suppose it's healthy that she's not afraid of death yet, nevertheless, it doesn't make for great conversation after a meal at Chic-Fil-A.

Oh, right so Harlem brings me a hand-drawn picture the other day and places it in my hands -- expecting her normal approval for her artistic skill. Of course, I give it to her but not before noticing the image of a man laying in the ground (with a headstone reading R.I.P.) and X's over his eyes.

"Honey," I tread lightly, "can you tell me about this picture?"

Sensing nothing troubling about doodling corpses while watching Spongebob, she happily jumps in my lap and runs down the scene.

"The dead man in the picture is you daddy. And see this little girl . . . . " she points to a girl in a dress, her mouth a huge "O" of shock . . . "That's me when I heard that you died. And then, that's me again crying . . . " The second picture of her is classic cartoon boo-hooing as tears fly off her face like fleas jumping ship.

"Uh, huh." I answered stunned. "And who's this man flying?"

"Oh that's you when you turn into an angel. See the circle." She was referring to the perfect halo around "my" head.

I kissed her head and sent her on her way, stifling the impulse to ask her if she saw how I died or if she drew any pictures of us winning the lottery.

My eyes were drawn back to the angel. To my knowledge, we've never discussed angels. In fact, the BIG question -- "what happens after you die?" -- is sort a mystery for me, and thus, trying to be an upfront and honest parent (except for Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the tooth fairy) I admit my ambiguity about life after death.

"I don't know honey," I've answered several times. "Some people think you go to heaven. Some people think you come back as a new baby and some people think nothing happens." She has yet to ask me what I think, but I assume when asks I'll have an answer (and for those wondering why I didn't include hell in these after life scenarios, it's because I don't believe in such a place and I also think you're a lousy parent if you tell your six year old that they even have the slightest chance of such a fate).

Truth is, I don't know what happens after death and I don't think that any one else does either. We've got theories -- actually, theories can be tested. We've got ideas, hopes, dreams and wishes but no proof beyond the texts we put faith in. But let's be honest with ourselves when we say we "know" that heaven and hell exist when these are concepts handed to us as children. If your parents had brought you up in a faith that dictated that life after death consisted of picking tomatoes on Mars, you'd probably be just as convinced of that scenario than playing harps in God's eternal symphony. I don't say all of this as if I have the answer, cause I don't. I lean toward a big nothing -- a cease of all thought. But I've experienced some ghostly happenings and so I don't rule that out. I'd like to believe my loved ones are experiencing eternal bliss in the clouds (though I guess once we went into space, heaven had to relocate someplace a bit higher otherwise we would have see Uncle Jesse on our way to the moon) but when I consider the source, a book that contends that the devil is real and that a man fit two of every animal on a boat, I come away at the very least skeptical and, most often, dismissive.

But the fact that my daughter already has a working concept that includes angels (which I won't begrudge her) tells me two things:
1. She WANTS to know what happens after the big goodnight
2. It is next to impossible to grow up in the U.S. and not be a borderline Christian. It's like hamburgers and going to the movies -- it's part of the culture. Christianity is in our laws, our speech (Who doesn't say "Jesus Christ!"), our customs ("God bless you."). So her new belief in angels is not exactly shocking and yet, it is.

Overall, I think it's evidence that children will find their own answers if you don't supply them with something satisfactory. Now, my mother-in-law would see this child's instinctual belief in angels ("belief" might be a strong word as she's never discussed angels before or after) as proof of the concept -- something about innocents seeing truths better than adults. Like I said, I can't prove or disprove angels, but Harlem's drawn pictures of flying pigs (seriously) too, but I don't peek up at the sky waiting for pig shit to fall on me.

NEXT UP: Thumper Stickers

What's Heathen like you doing in a place like this?

2007-09-23T13:24:00.001-07:00

So, I'm sitting in Kingdom Hall last Saturday wondering if I was going to go off during service or wait till after the service to curse out the annoying White woman sitting four seats down from me.

Wait. Let me back up. Perhaps I should start this entry a bit differently. Let me first answer the question -- "what the hell am I doing at Kingdom Hall?"

Answer: Much to my mother-in-law's chagrin (and surprisingly my mother's as well), my wife has been talking with a group of Jehovah's Witnesses for over a year. She still doesn't buy their ban on holidays and refusal of blood transfusions, but genuinely digs that they explain their faith in plain-english. Oh yeah, and the JW's don't believe in hell which is a HUGE plus for my wife as she doesn't want to believe in it either, but still really does. Similar to the way, I don't WANT to think Michael Jackson touched those boys but . . . . Anyway, coupled with the fact that our neighbor has joined their ranks, my wife felt compelled to go. And thus, my first trip to Kingdom Hall.

Got it? So back to the annoying White woman.

Seated four seats down from me is this White woman and her husband. I note that there are White because the congregation of JWs at this particular Hall was surprisingly Black. In my mind, JW's are White. But I realize that's because I confuse them with Mormons -- who are mostly White (and should be -- SHAME on you Gladys Knight). It's like Japanese and Chinese food -- if they both come in white, folding boxes with eggrolls, my mind doesn't really make any distinctions.

Judging by the Hall, the JW's are not a very festive folk. It looked no different than a hotel conference room. The walls were a bare, light blue with only a two-line scripture painted on it. The pastor (not sure JW's use that title), was a White guy who, if they made a movie about him, would be played by William H. Macy. You know, kind of dorky with a combover and a "Welcome to Home Depot" voice. He was up there in an everyday blue suit standing behind a small podium. Neither pomp nor circumstance.

I mention all this to say that with no offensive paintings White Jesuses (Jesi?) on the wall or sychophantic "yes-men" catching the ghost every five seconds, the only thing to pay attention to was the pastor-dude-guy on stage -- which, as an adult, was hard enough. So I was impressed that my six-year old daughter and her three friends -- oh, did I mention we went with our neighbor and four children? -- were sitting quietly and sharing my notebook to scribble on.

Apparently, the White woman was NOT impressed and consistently shushed the girls. Being a guest, I didn't speak up right away -- and was actually a bit relieved to get some parenting help -- but judging by her reaction she was appalled by the kids' occassional giggles. As I understand it, the JW's expect children to follow the day's lesson along in their bibles -- a vain attempt at best. I'm no expert on Black churches, but for all their children's bibles they don't really EXPECT them to read it. Which brings me to two points:

1. I don't even want to read my child the bible yet, let alone let some strange White woman go "Reading Rainbow" on my daughter. For all the good in the book, there's still lots of dangerous stuff in there, too (I'm looking at you Leviticus).

2. Who the FUCK does Kathy think she is? These children are in MY house each weekend. I'M the one who takes them places, sees them at the bus stop every morning.

However, Kathy DID know their names and the children HAD been to this Hall several times so I didn't want to cause a scene. Instead, I had my daughter sit closer to me as a visual cue to keep Kathy's judgmental mitts off my child's undeveloped theology.

With Kathy out of the picture, I was eager to get to the Q and A portion of the service my wife had been particularly excited about. I too was anxious to see folks actively discuss their faith and, hope of hopes, ask some questions.

Yeah, well . . . the "Q&A" portion should be renamed the "Ooh, ooh, pick me first" session. They have two guys who tag-team read from "The Watchtower" -- you know that JW magazine they hand out and you throw away. One guy reads the article while the other reads the questions at the bottom of the pages and fields answers. Seriously, it was as intellectually stimulating as a third grade book report on soil.

The sad part was, nobody else realized how boring it was. You'd think that after years of high school, they'd know that the quickest way to stop the teacher from talking was NOT to raise your hand all the damn time. But no. These guys are a bunch of first-row students who just had to have their turn to spit back -- verbatim, no less -- what they had just read. As a former first-row student, I know the glee of having the teacher smile on you and affirm your suspicion that your brighter than most of your peers, but come on - 18 goddamn questions! What should have been five minutes turned into an hour of people vomiting back the answers everyone wanted.

There was not a hint of questioning, no sense of individual intepretation or doubt. Just all-consuming agreement -- the exact thing I dislike about organized religion and the main reason I don't want my children mainlined with the stuff.

After the service, I met back up with my wife and two-year old daughter, previously quarantined in a soundproof glass room because they were too noisy -- no shit. We glad-handed everyone while my wife politely lied (sorta) about coming back. But I noticed an intense interest on their part about how I felt about the service. I felt immediate regret for bringing my notebook -- "No ma'am, I'm not studying to be a better Christian. I'm notes for a snarky heathenistic blog where I'm liable to make fun of Kathy and a lot of your belief system."

"So what did you think of the service?" They asked.

How the hell do I answer that? Not honestly, I know that much. Instead I gave the most noncommital answer I could; "It was interesting." Which, like a jilted lover still looking for hope, they interpreted as "I still love you" as opposed to "I can't stand being around you."

During the ride home, my wife confirmed what I just KNEW had to be true. She finally confessed that the JW's were really keen on getting ME to Kingdom Hall. It's like my wife was the hot girl they were dating for a year only to realize she had an even hotter roomate -- me. Weird, gender-bending analogy aside, that's not to say they're not concerned with my wife's soul, but COME ON whose the bigger catch here -- the lapsed-Baptist or her heathen husband, a virtual virgin waiting to be taken (or so they see it -- I guess). I imagine they talk about converting me the way college boys talk about deflowering the new crop of freshmen girls.

What they don't know and are probably less ready to accept is that I'm a tease. I'm that girl with the big ass who wears short skirts, dances dirty and NEVER calls you back. I'll sit, talk and discuss. I'll even show up to service, but what they don't get is that I'm not looking to date. I'm happily married to my own non-existent theology and not looking to step out.

But what hit me most is that my wife IS looking to date. She wants a church home ("I wouldn't go every week, or even every month" she tells me), a place to go that makes sense to her. And I've told her, no matter what, I would go to support (and to keep an eye on what they teach my kids) as long as she didn't lose her sense of individuality and reason. But, in this area of our marriage, I have nothing to offer her -- literally. I would lie if I said it didn't worry me a bit, that I can't meet a need my wife has. But I trust her when she says she loves my point of view and knows I want the best for her -- even if its not the best for me.

However, if she changes our outgoing phone message to end with "have a blessed day" we're getting divorced.

NEXT UP: "Daddy, the dead man in the picture is you."