I suppose it was just a matter of time before I became compelled to write about religion. I’m usually not one to air my religious perspective however I’ve reached the point where I feel the need to rant a tad.
There are few things I enjoy more than a good old rant littered with some choice controversial elements chucked in for good measure. Being subversive is second nature to me which is a genetic disposition I've been lucky enough to inherit from the fine folks that made me. That's why I love being back in South Africa because it isn't short of character and colour. Folk in the UK think that they have the same level of character but if we could just talk about the Royal Wedding for a moment...on second thoughts, let’s not.
My favourite psychologist who I’ve named “Barry Tim” says that there are two kinds of people in the world, Ferrari's and Volkswagen's. I think that there are Rice Crispies and Fruitloops. Either you’re in the box or you’re in the bowl but if you’re a Fruitloop no matter where you are you’re still a Fruitloop and if you get into the Rice Crispie bowl you’ll taint the flavour and piss off the Crispies.
So writing to my fellow Fruitloops and the odd Rice Crispies that may read this I thought it time I get belligerent about religion because it’s been a long time coming.
Here’s the deal, I don’t really factor religion into my life because I just don’t think I have the space. It’s like those gifts you get from relatives that you think you need to give houseroom to be polite. I’m talking about the doily you put on top of your television, that statue of a girl kneeling by the fountain, that nice dolphin ceramic soap dish, the scatter cushion with wild flowers, the soap and handcream; flavour- lavender. That stuff is crap and I won’t give it house room. I am 27 and if I don’t want a dolphin soap dish I don’t want it. Exit Charity Store or exit gift to person I don’t like much. I view religion as the doily on the television. It’s out-dated, it detracts from what’s important, it gathers dust and it just gives you that nasty feeling every time you look at it.
I’ve lost some fans I can feel it, but before you retreat shouting heathen and burning incest just hear me out.
I truly love the idea of God and goodness and light and love but that’s not really what religion is all about. ‘But it is…’ I hear you protest. Nope it’s not, let’s face it religion is being used as a tool to show up how bad everyone else is and how good “you” are as a person. The thing is that most of the really annoying religious folk are new recruits for the God Squad so they’re making up for lost time by being particularly verbose about right and wrong. They’re there wielding the New Testament like a weapon of mass destruction.
I seldom meet churchgoers who love everyone. I have some examples and they’re so good that you’ll know I haven’t made them up.
Hilton is a small town with Colonial sentiments. People here live in the dark ages. I had a beautician who was a born again Christian and she just loved to make people beautiful. That meant she wanted their souls too. I had to stop going there because she kept trying to force me into going along to Youth Group which I view as a free-for-all orgy for teenagers. Anyway as much as I would decline she would insist even offering me lifts to get there and back. She must be very high on Gods payroll. Anyway she was complaining about her maid and the theft problem she was experiencing. In the next breath she said ‘and it’s not like she needs to steal, I pay her R25 a day’. Her cup runneth over with generosity. Sure there are people who pay their maids dogshit rates but at least they’re not in church every Sunday telling everyone what good Christians they are.
This same lady wrote 'no teenage mutant ninja turtle gifts' (sans please) on the bottom of her son’s party invitations. It took all of my mother’s strength to obey the rules. Satan lurks in ninja turtles, and Nirvana cds. In fact Satan lurks in all music bar that played by "hip" Christian rock groups. Needless to say this particular citizen was so favoured by the Lord that she was blessed with her daughter’s wedding and a grandchild within weeks of each other. God works in mysterious ways.
The gym is another breeding ground for religious fundamentalists. This is because gym goers generally adopt the “my body is a temple” adage and therefore find God at the water fountain in between their benchpress. I was on the elliptical trainer and had my eye on BBC News which doesn’t really generate a lot of energy but apparently it was what adults like to work out to. Evidence? Zero. Anyway I was minding my own business like a hamster on a wheel and the next thing Spandex enters. Spandex was a new recruit to the gym at this time and was very much into "body and temple" and "lunging for the Lord". God was obviously having a positive influence on her because she was rapidly turning into a muscle building machine. Anyway I greeted Spandex and went back to watching the Iraqis bomb the crap out of their landscape. It was at this point that she said ‘I hate Muslims. I reckon we should just bomb them all when they’re kneeling down to pray.’ When it comes to Christianity and the spirit of tolerance I reckon she’s the poster child.
So where do folk like this hang out? (So we can avoid them.) Well there’s this place that attracts like-minded Christian folk. It’s like Makro. Don’t be disappointed when you get there and expect to find awesome cheap stuff to buy. You won’t find it. Instead you’ll find thousands of people praying and complaining about all of the other religions in the world. Tell them Jesus was a Jew and they’ll come after you with pitchforks and flaming torches.
I know of people who go to this wholesale religious factory. I reckon they think that they’re cutting out the middleman between themselves and God which is why they’ve made it look like Makro. Also it’s an excellent way to get new recruits who mistake it for an awesome shopping experience.
As they march to the sound of ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’ with stones in their hands you can literally hear the glass crunch under their creep to Jesus sandals.
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