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I Admit...

…that if somebody still follows the religion that their parents raised them in, I can’t help but consider them too lazy or intellectually incurious to have explored a differing vewpoint.  I’m probably wrong in this; perhaps they did try all the options and think deeply about all of them before returning to the traditional snake-handling of their forebears, but I think that the vast majority of the time, they couldn’t even adequately explain why they go to the same church they did as a child.

I bowed out of the whole God-worshipping thing sometime around middle school: it just didn’t make any sense to me, and it still doesn’t.  If you worship some form of God, good for you.  We can still be friends, as long as you don’t cherry-pick chapters of your holy book for the purpose of discriminating against whatever group you don’t like.

I hope that you really thought about it and didn’t just blindly accept the faith you were raised with, because that’s how every social ill perpetuates itself, be it racism or hatred of gays or the classism that’s ripping our country apart right now.

Please just think.  I make friends with smart people, and I guarantee you that the people I know with faith arrived at that decision more often than not after a long search.  I respect that.  I don’t respect lazy acceptance of the status quo.

When Are My Coworkers Going to Learn to Stop Talking to Me?

Somebody’s talking about another coworker going on his “mission” (in the Mormon sense), and so I mention I’ve never been on one, because I’m not a part of the Mormon church (or any church, but I didn’t mention that).

——-

SOMEBODY: I didn’t USED to be.

ME: What, you just went out for a heavy night of drinking, and suddenly, you were Mormon?

(assorted laughter)

ME: “Man, it’s crazy, I passed out, and next thing I know, I’m waking up in a bathtub of ice, and my kidney’s missing, and I’m MORMON!”

It's Important to Make these Things Clear

While idly conversing at work.

——-

ME: Man, I feel terrible…I’ve got some sort of illness bred in the heat of central Africa—

COWORKER (interjecting): You have AIDS?

ME: And then it came over here on a monkey boat.

(Laughter, questions about what was so funny.)

COWORKER: He said he was sick from an African monkey boat.

(Pause while I consider my words.)

ME: By which I mean a boat with actual monkeys on it; that was not a racist comment.

Two Work Farewells

Yesterday, as I left work, I said to my boss, “So long, sir.”  It’s just something I do, like calling women “madam”.  It’s not meant to be sarcastic or suck-uppy, it’s just a weirdly old-fashioned part of my speech.

He responded good-humoredly, “Come on, none that.  You’re older than I am, that doesn’t work at all.”

So, today as I was leaving, I saw him through the office door, so I leaned my head in and said, “See you tomorrow, youngster!”

An Imaginary Telephone Conversation with Frodo Baggins

(Ring ring!)

Me: Hello?

Frodo: Hello, Kevin.  What are you doing this afternoon?

Me: Nothing much.  Just watching some tv.  Why?

Frodo: Would you like to come over to my place and partake of some ale and maybe sing some songs?

Me: Well…that sounds great, but my girlfriend took the car, and…

Frodo: You could walk.

Me: Yeah…

Frodo: It’s just around a mile and a half…

Me: I…I just don’t feel like walking that far right now.

Frodo: Really.

Me: Yeah, that just seems like a really long walk, and I’m kinda tired…you know how it is.  It just seems like a major ordeal.

Frodo: (Silent but for steady, angry breathing.)

Me: And I’ve got this blister on my foot.

Frodo: You know, Kevin…I’m not really certain why we’re friends.

Volunteering for a Chance at Crushing a Child's Dreams

This Friday, I’m going to be taking part in a work-organized volunteer thing at a middle school.  I’m going to be helping with the “Reality Town” event at the school, which all the locals seem to be familiar with, but which I’ve never seen or experienced in my life.

Anyway, I guess there will be kids there, which is not my idea of how to spend my day off, so I’ve come up with some ideas of how to communicate “reality” to children.

  • I can go dressed in a big, formless gray sheet, and say things like, “Woooaaaoooohhh!  I’m reeeeeeeeeaaaalityyyyy!  Nothing good ever happens around meee!  Mooooaaaaannnn…”
  • The first kid I see, I catch him and give him an atomic wedgie.  “You like that, kid?  THAT WAS REALITY.”
  • Show up hungover, drinking wine from a can.  “This is what reality does to you, kids!  Watch out!”  Start crying.  “My kids don’t even talk to me any more!”
  • Stomp a Barbie Dream Home to pieces right in front of them.

These are just the first ideas rolling off my brain, you understand.  I’m sure I can think of better ones by Friday.