|My Day Plus Jesus, The Rant
Author: redacted PM
Have you ever felt suffocated by the yammering hoards of cross bearers, stampeding to kill logic and reason? No way! Me too! Cool! Want to hang out someti- Oh dang, here they come, run! Bad words and insensitivity insideRated: Fiction T - English - Words: 1,001 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 1 - Published: 03-10-10 - Status: Complete - id: 2784208
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(A/N: Another rant, things to get off of my chest, etc.)
There are few people, in the course of day to day life that rankle my feathers more than the religious.
And by that, I mean Christian, because I live in America, and when someone says they're religious here, you can bet it's not fucking Buddhism.
You will just be engaging in conversation with a person, and then god comes up and HOLY SHIT, there goes the discussion. Immediately upon you showing the vaguest engagement in the topic, they will launch into a long soliloquy about the wonderful lord and savior who gave their life purpose and meaning, in a diatribe that was probably whispered haltingly to their bathroom mirror for the past few years in a row, just waiting to be sprung on some poor unsuspecting sap like myself.
And all you can think is: Good for you, you directionless little nincompoop, I am so goddamn happy that the big bearded sky man touched you in such a special way.
Of course, you can't say that, because invariably, one other person in the room will prick up their ears at the slightest hint of rationality and proceed to throw up a haze of anti-heathen flak, in the form of parroted arguments and scornful tongue lashing.
Christ I hate them. They make my day that much harder.
And the thing about engaging religious people in debate is that...
Well, it's rather like playing chess with a pigeon. They flap around noisily, knock over all the pieces, crap on the board, and then fly back to their roost as utterly stupid as the second they entered your proximity.
These days I don't even bother. I just smile, nod, and weather the storm of idiocy that howls around me like a dust devil. I have perfected the art of doing this, and these days the only sign that I think you are quite possibly the dumbest thing fate ever threw into my path as a cruel joke is the ever so slight twitch at the corner of my cheek that flutters like a butterfly caught in a spider web.
By now you're probably thinking "shit, this guy has issues, what a dick!".
Yeah I have issues. Issues with people, who themselves have issues with logic.
You can't entirely blame them, most of us were raised in a Judeo-Christian background, indoctrinated from birth to believe that this life was just a little game show in which god would handpick the winners to go up to his cool-ass resort.
If you ask me, that's a pretty fucked up thing to be teaching kids.
"Oh yeah Timmy, the only reason you have to be nice to people, is that if you don't, the big white guy up there will char broil your plump little ass forever."
But hey, kids respond to that. Touch the mystical cookie jar of sin and we'll get Beelzebub to spank you. Forever.
And pretty soon those little logically handicapped kids grow into big logically handicapped adults, and find new and improved ways to rationalize death to themselves. It's just all so monumentally fucked up it makes me want to tear my hair out over it.
But, as an Absurdist, I stopped putting TOO much stock in people who had already committed philosophical suicide. There is no saving them, unfortunately, and our world is a smaller, darker, less advanced, more paranoid place because of it.
What a waste of a life. To go from the cradle to the grave setting yourself up for an afterlife that never comes. What a goddamn waste. Think of all that talent, all those people, who instead of jamming politics with their crap, instead of blowing themselves up, instead of adopting strange diets, and writing books on how stupid and wrong atheists are, could be taking us to the stars, or curing disease, finding solutions to all the unanswered questions, or just spreading the good times around to people less fortunate than themselves.
But that's not going to happen.
Nobody remembers anything after Monday morning, let alone a thousand years, so nobody who can do anything about it is going to remember how awful the dark ages were, and how far back it set us.
The big thing, and don't take this as a peacock preening his feathers, is that people (seem to me) to be weak.
They fear death. More than anything else. More than spiders. More than the microphone on the podium. More than heights. More than tax audits. More than anything else, ever.
Their fear is so overwhelming, so intoxicating, so mind bogglingly strong that throughout the ages they have made up fantastic systems of fairy tales to assure themselves that there was a reason to get out of bed in the morning.
A hundred thousand gods have come and gone, most have been around much longer than Christianity has. None of them, not a single goddamn one, has EVER come to fruition.
You'd think people would feel scammed. Cheated.
Nope. The brilliance of the farce is that you can know you're alive, but you can never know that you're dead. The dirty secret, that there is no flock of angels waiting for you, can never become public knowledge.
Now, understand, I don't consider myself any stronger than anyone else. This is why the situation frustrates me. If I were Hercules, I would consider it natural that other people believe in god, but I'm not Hercules, not even close. Everyone, or at least most people, have the ability to throw off the ridiculous self-imposed shackles of superstition, and the fact that they don't is infuriating to say the least.
When you enter the adult world, please leave your bible lying where it belongs:
In the trash bin, next to your old hot wheels track.