Sunday, April 24, 2011

FAITH

With the last vestige of PMS induced bitterness and antagonism coursing through my system, I thought Easter would be the perfect day to produce this little treasure of bitchery on one of my favorite topics- FAITH.

All too often I have heard religious automatons droning on about how they don't need to hear about such silly topics as "truth", "facts", and "reality" because they have something better than that.

They have FAITH.

Faith is a comforting notion to religious people, it allows them to discard actuality in favor of realism and remain steadfast on the path of ignorance, but I'll get to that in a minute.

If you notice, most Christians resort to prayer when they want to beg petty favors from god because things aren't quite going as well as they planned in life and they're scared and unhappy. They want a better car, and they want a bigger house and more money. Their kids are acting like douches and they think their spouse may be cheating.
Every now and then they'll throw in a few for a neighbor or friend and thus begins the process of bartering with the lord for their demands. Gimme this, gimme that. I want. And if you give it to me, I'll be a better person, God! I'll throw an extra $20 in the offering plate this Sunday and I'll stop excessively masturbating, why.... I'll even help an old lady cross the street if you do this for me. Me! Me! Me! and don't forget to Bless me while you're at it!

Personally, if I was God I would have flooded this planet ages ago just to be done with their endless whining.

When a Christian prays, they find comfort and peace in the non-action and the reason they feel this is because they have faith. They believe that their god will take care of them and do what is best for them, which is of course, whatever they want him to do- hence the prayers.
They have faith that because THEY are faithful to him, he will always be there and love them forever and ever, no matter how many shitty things they do and have done, and that when they kick it they're going to an everlasting paradise with mansions and gold streets and they'll finally get to see Big G sitting on his potty throne with Jesus. Everyone will be happy and no one will ever need anything and it will be like an eternal orgasm that will never stop. Yipee!

Christians know all about it because their bible states it and they have FAITH. "The bible says it, I believe it! I. Have. FAITH."

Faith is an unwavering belief. Like silent knowledge on the wings of absolute certainty, flying through your heaven bound soul and you know, you just know.... and you need know nothing else because you have faith.


Let us assume, for the briefest of moments, that Farmer John down the road also has faith. Blind comforting sheep's faith and he knows something too. He knows that if he performs the action of flapping his wings like a bird in the spot he marked with an X in his front yard everyday at noon for six months that he will have the power to climb on his roof, sprout wings out of his shoulder blades and fly through the brilliant blue sky. He KNOWS this will happen because he has faith! His family and friends and have all told him he's nuts, he isn't going to fly, but he doesn't listen to them, he doesn't need to. He has enough faith to know with complete assuredness that he is, indeed, going to sprout wings and fly.

Six months later Farmer John climbs to the top of his roof and he is overjoyed. He has performed the specified action faithfully, and he feels the power of that faith coursing through his soul. He knows that he is about to take flight so he takes a deep breath and a big leap of faith off the roof prepared to soar gloriously through the air like a happy hummingbird.....

What do you think is going to happen to Farmer John? He has faith that he will fly, he knows this, HE HAS FAITH!

Let me inform you of what happens next in this scenario: Farmer John takes the leap, gets three inches of airtime, and goes smashing into the yard, snapping his spine, breaking his neck and a couple of his broken ribs go splintering into a few vital organs. He dies.

That, my friends, is faith.

The preposterous notion that something will happen for no logical reason whatsoever. It is willful ignorance and insanity for fearful weak minds who are too lazy and irresponsible to take personal accountability for the course of their own lives. Morons turn to faith like frightened monkeys. They cling to faith in the face of reality because reality is too scary if it might mean they could have been wrong, or that something isn't going to go their way. They hide under the blanket of their faith like little children do when they're hiding from the boogeyman under the bed.

And like a junkie needing a fix, faith is the Christians drug of choice.

It's still a crutch and it is highly addictive. Faith destroys the logical thought process in the human mind, it halts evolution and personal growth because it boxes it's junkies into a narrowly confined realm of delusion, with NO room for progression and movement.
The bible tells you to have faith when you are faced with uncertainty and things you don't understand, like something that may clue your mindless airy head into the reality that you're being a fool by believing this nonsense in the first place.

Don't question! Have faith! = Don't THINK! Don't use your brain!

Well.. that was fun. Happy Easter, don't forget to pray this holiday, for all your desires and demands and don't forget to enjoy communion at your local church this evening.

Cannibalism FTW! :D

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

There Can Be No Title For This....

I think I've been staring at these same five blue walls of my life... here in my room. But it's only been a little more than four months. If one were so inclined to write about something (and I am inclined) then logic would dictate they write what they know.

This
is what I know.

A small town full nothing, expansive fields full of nothing and these blue walls, also full of nothing.

The entire concept of my "country" surroundings are almost a cliche, if I allowed it to be. Everything from the dairy farm down the road, to the isolated tree on the horizon, even the tiny blue wild flowers growing along the edges of the sidewalk can denote that atmosphere if I didn't so vehemently deny that my habitat was anything BUT boring, because I like to lie to myself. All I need now is a banjo player sitting on the front porch, humming some folk tune, "Cat's in the cradle with the silver moon, little boy blue and the dude with the spoon." I won't pretend I know the lyrics to that song, but you get the idea. Or do you? No, you probably do not....

YOU probably live in civilization, some potentially thrilling atmosphere with endless possibilities for inciting carnage and mayhem. I live in no man's land where the most exciting thing that could happen in a week is a 2 for 1 sale down at Hickman's IGA on Hog Wash; Piggleberry Punch, AND Oinkin Orange! I'm not kidding by the way, that actually is popular beverage here.

You do become de-sensitized to the hillbilly ethics over time, that much is true. I no longer giggle and point at the hicks who wander around the local gas station/movie store/fried chicken and burrito joint in their camouflage jackets, hats, and denim overalls. I'm no longer surprised to see the youth meandering about with their bottom lips puffed out from the pile of cancerous chewing tobacco stuffed in their little mouth pouches, and it's really not that shocking anymore to see a local inbred hillbilly brethren chugging a 40 oz. while driving down the highway... I mean "route", there are no highways here. No, no... you learn to just smile and nod like everyone else does.

After time all the faces begin to look the same. The hillbilly bone structure is rather unique, I've noted, and while I may joke about them being inbred, it is highly possibly considering this town has successfully remained under 800 people for the last 20 years, and they do tend to bear striking resemblances to one another. Most of them have some variation of the hillbilly snout, roundish noses, upturned at the tip that expose two, typically large, hair lined nostril holes in full view. No one here has straight hair, they're ALL curly headed, which I found a bit intriguing, and on that note, I have yet to see a natural blond here.

But as I stated, the hillbilly bone structure usually entails the round snout, high round cheekbones- ball-like even, and pointed angular chins. All of the men wear hats or caps, unless they're really old and all of the women either have short curly hair or long curly hair that they tie back into pony tails at the crowns of their squarish blocky heads. It's quite intriguing in a bizarre Twilight Zone sort of way. I plan on taking my camera with me the next time we need bread or lighter fluid and capturing a few images to demonstrate my point.

And what is my point, you ask? I don't have one. I lack a point because I live in the sticks, population 723.

There is no point anymore. :D

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Rural vs. City: Reality Check

For most people used to the advantages of the modern world, the possibilities of dwelling in a country setting seem to be idyllic and charming. But is it really that splendid to escape the toils of traffic jams, nosy neighbors, and potentially polluted air and water? I thought it would be....

Buyer beware: all that glitters isn't gold.

Fantasy: Let's escape this wretched city life and move to the country! It's going to be SO peaceful. :D

Reality: Peace is all your ass is going to have. That's it. Nothing happens in the country. Ever. See that field in your back/front/side yard? Yep it's still the same, just a big ole field o' nothin! ... Wait, there's something moving.... Oh it's just a barn cat, climbing the tree.


Fantasy: Awww look at this narrow gravel road. Nothing could be more quaint than this! :p

Reality: Have fun driving down that gravel road after it snows or rains. You're gonna have loads of joy when you're smashing your head against the windshield as you're sliding off the edge into one of the boulder ridden ravines. Nevermind the destruction to your tires and suspension from the 3ft. deep pot holes.


Fantasy: OMG there's a farm!! Horses, cows and pigs, this is so scenic! I think I just had a nature-gasm! <:o

Reality: You open some windows to air out your crusty old house and get some fresh oxygen. Take a big whiff... Mmmm! Feces. NOTHING will you wake you up in the morning like the pungent aroma of fresh farm shit wafting across the breakfast table.


Fantasy: Oh wow, I can't believe we found this 111 year old behemoth five bedroom house in the middle of nowhere! This. Is. Perfection.

Reality: The bigger and older the house, the bigger and more complex the problems are that you will nightmarishly face, like bad electrical wiring, forget using a hairdryer with the light on unless you like buying a lot of fuses. Not to mention the cracks in the walls where mice can enter and frolic across your bedroom floor while you sleep, or the millions of orange ladybugs who squeeze into every crease and crevice of the woodwork in the bathroom because apparently they like toilet paper. Don't forget to check BEFORE you wipe. Picking crushed ladybug pieces out of your pubic hair isn't as exciting as it sounds.


Fantasy: There's even an outdoor wood burning furnace! We'll save SO much money on gas bills!

Reality: Oh no you won't. Prepare to spend at about $500 a month in the winter and then you better prepare your ass to go out in the freezing cold five times a day and at least once in the middle of the night to feed that beast or you will freeze because 111 year old houses have little to no insulation. Don't even think about slacking because if that fires goes out, so does your hot water. Have fun taking a shower in water the same degree as room temperature chicken skin.


Fantasy: The house's water is supplied by a well?! We have died and gone to Country Heaven. No more microbic city water for us, yay!

Reality: Have you ever drank well water? Go to your sink and get a glass of water. Now go outside, scoop up some dirt, and put it into your mouth. Take a drink, swish it around and swallow. Welcome to well water!


Fantasy: Tranquility at long last! No more busy body neighbors with their noses embedded in our anuses!

Reality: No neighbors = no witnesses. There's something to be said for safety in numbers. Go outside after the sun has set and the land is dark, and it is very very dark. The potentials of every horror movie you ever saw begin to manifest. The slight rustling of the brush becomes your inevitable slaughter at the hands of the would be psychopath lurking in the blackness, watching your every move. See those obscure shapes moving in the distance? Is it a group of mischievous dogs playing under the moonlight, or a pack of hungry coyotes eyeballing you up for dinner. How fast can you run?