This Always Works

Dear Everyone Else,

Let's make a deal. On my end, I'll start by giving you a long and complicated set of rules. Your part of the bargain will be to follow those rules for the rest of your life.

What's in it for you? I will get around to that after I introduce you to a small sampling of My Stupid Laws For You To Follow.

Some will be based on common sense and may actually be good for you:

- No use of chainsaws between midnight and dawn, except on Fridays and Halloween.

- You must eat a bowl of porridge every Wednesday and Saturday. This must be the first meal of the day and you must use a clean spoon.

-Don't steal stuff.

Other Laws may be a bit more perplexing but you will be expected to follow them nonetheless:


-Starting at puberty, men must shave their faces from left to right. Women must shave their legs, left first , then right.


- A small dish of gravel must be placed on the dinner table every Friday night. This is not to be eaten.

- Blue and green must never be seen.

And there will be some Laws that are not only pointless, they will  make life significantly harder for no good reason at all:

- Only infertile married couples are allowed to use condoms. 'Infertile' may or may not be intended to indicate homosexual marriage. You will have to figure that one out yourselves. Decide peacefully , without rancor.

- No Internet before Bedtime.  Note that I have failed to define what ' before Bedtime' means exactly. I expect that all of you will be able to arrive at a mutually satisfactory definition of  'before Bedtime' without any arguments or strife arising from conflicting interpretations.

- Send 10 percent of your income to my PayPal account. Do this every year. 

OK, this one does have a reason. The reason is: the more money I get for free, the less I  will have to work.

Those Laws are just the tip of the Titanic. There are hundreds more where they came from. Feel free to make up a few of your own as well, just don't expect me personally to follow them.

Sounds pretty good so far, doesn't it?  What do you get as a reward?

After you die you will  have a really, really awesome afterlife. The best afterlife anyone ever had! You have my solemn promise on this as a guarantee.

Unless you break the rules. Infringement in life will be punished with an afterlife of eternal suffering in a fiery pit of boiling blood. You have my word.



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Donut Pass Go

I think that the donut production schedule at my local market is the most convincing argument for the existence of Divine Intelligent Design that I can make. This statement doesn't say much for my thoughts regarding the logical foundation of "Intelligent Design", but it sure speaks volumes about the humble reverence with which I view donuts.

Earthly manifestations of the Divine are often subject to zealous misinterpretation and the Sacred Donut is no exception; so before I continue with my sermon, I'd like to pause for a moment and debunk some commonly held beliefs about Donuts and God:

1: DONUTS ARE UNHEALTHY FOOD: FALSE!

In fact, donuts, taken as a group , are one of the best food values you can find. Think of it this way- your body needs to ingest roughly 2000-2500 calories per day in order to maintain it's normal functions- now imagine that you are trapped on an island with limited food supplies- what food are you going to want with you? Carrot sticks or donuts?

I was recently on a short airplane flight during which we were handed bags of baby carrots as our in-flight snack. The label on my two-ounce plastic pouch indicated that the entire contents of the bag consisted of a mere 15 calories! You would have to eat roughly 135 two-ounce bags of baby carrots in order to obtain enough calories for a single day's exertions- or you could eat two donuts. It would seem to be a no-brainer.

2: THERE IS NO GOD: FALSE!

If there's no God, then who invented churches and made Sunday morning such a popular day for attending them? And who decided that Saturday's baked goods would go on deep discount sale while almost everyone else is in church on Sunday morning, allowing me to get "first dibs"?

Why, God,of course!

On a typical Sunday, I can arrive just as the market opens and pick up an overstuffed box of donuts (12-20 crammed inside) for less than two dollars- there's enough calories in one of those packages to sustain me for a fortnight or longer and you can bet that I'm grateful for it because I know it's all part of of His plan to provide for me during my current hard times!
If you need more proof, consider this: have you ever taken a crusty, stale old donut and microwaved it for seven seconds? It transforms those hard little shit-cakes into steamy mouthfuls of heavenly miracles! It's about a million times better than loaves and fishes, I tell ya what!

And who invented the microwave? God did!

A Note Regarding Microwave Ovens And The Manifestation of Demons: Traditionally, Earthly visitations by Infernal Beasts have been marked with the over-powering smell of brimstone. In the "post 9-11" world, this has been replaced by the cloying stench of microwaved fish...the fish, of course is an ancient symbol of Christianity, so it's no accident that Satan chose fish as the ultimate office stink-bomb. Frequent lunchroom "sea-gas" may indicate that your co-workers are possessed by demons, but I'm guessing you already know that.

3 :God Hates Atheists But He Looks Out For Them Anyway: True!

Last Sunday, there was only one box of remaindered pastries still on the shelf when I arrived - tough economic times have generated a steep increase in the number of persons competing for day-old goods- so I snatched it up without a second glance and proceeded to check-out. I glanced through the carton's cellophane window as I scanned the package and saw movement. Tiny , swarming movements. Lots of them.

Tiny movements don't belong in donut boxes, so I peered through the transparent rectangle to see what was moving. The box was teeming with small winged insects, very much like fruit flies, only slightly larger. I gave the box a vigorous shake and a few flies loopily escaped from between the cardboard flaps.

I approached a nearby clerk in order to show her what I had found and a horrible thought occurred to me: All the years of drugs and booze are finally catching up to me...there are no bugs in this box, I'm simply starting to hallucinate. In five minutes, I'll be covered with spiders...and then abducted by aliens...Christ, I'm finally having my long-dreaded psychotic break with reality and it's being sparked by stale donuts. When -if- I 'wake up', it'll probably be in a padded cell, naked and covered with imaginary chocolate frosting.

I showed the clerk my donuts and she was strangely non-committal. She indicated that she needed to get the manager and ducked into the office, taking the package with her.

I'm being taken by Gypsy Bakers, I thought, they are in the back, pulling the old-switcheroo...or using a Port-A-Vac to suck the little flying bastards out of the box.

The manager appeared, clutching the box. He looked down at it, then at me. Was he assessing my sanity?

"Sir,", he began, "I apologize. These donuts appear to be contaminated. We'll be pulling the rest of the stock now. Thank you for bringing it to our attention."

The rest of the stock? But there are no more donuts!

So I drove to the next nearest market and approached the donut case. Empty.

I asked the clerk what was up with the donut shortage. I really wanted a donut but I didn't want to settle for a 'Hostess'-type brand.

"Oh", he told me," they are having some sort of problem at the other store and the donuts are late."

So I wound up buying two pounds of bananas instead of a box of donuts. They weren't nearly as much fun to eat as the donuts would have been, but I guess I should be thankful to God for taking extra-special care in helping me stick to such a healthy diet.

Shhhh...God Can Hear You

I understand that the question: "What church do you go to?" is often used as a sort of conversational icebreaker between practitioners of the same religion. It's a valid question among fellow travelers.

Sometimes I am mistaken for one of those travelers.

Recently, a Christian friend asked me where I went to church.

"I go to the radio station", I said, "I have a Sunday show. Then I watch football."

"Duh", they replied,"I know that...there's plenty of time between your show and kick-off to go to church."

"Well, actually I'm not a Christian."

"Oh." They seemed puzzled. "I always thought you were."

"Really? Why?"

"Because you are very open and honest."

Me? This struck me as especially hilarious. I started laughing.

"What's so funny? You are."

"No, I'm not", I protested, "in fact, I just finished lying to my grandmother. I'm scum."

There was a long pause, finally broken by my friend's whispered questioning:

"You lied to your grandmother...? Uh...do you mind if I ask what you lied about?"

"I lied about religion."

More silence, followed by another hushed question.

"Um, I am not sure that I understand. What exactly did you tell her?"

"I told her that I believed in God," I whispered back,"It made her feel better."

"But you don't believe?"

"No. Why are we whispering? God knows what is in our hearts and thoughts; why are we talking so softly? He can hear. "

My buddy considered this for a second.

"I thought you just said you don't believe in God...how can you know how God thinks and hears?"

"I don't know. But there are books and stuff that claim to. I have read some of them."

"Yeah, I know, me too, but not as much as I should...I wish I were a better Christian. I'm Bad. I'm not Good, at least..."

Now it was my turn to be confused. I asked for some clarification- why were they not a 'Good Christian?'

"Because, honestly, I don't go to church much anymore, especially during football season...the kids have moved out...the divorce...you know how it is. I should go more often, is all..."

Damnation! I have a lot of Christian friends and most of them say the same thing, that they are not "Good Christians", usually because they don't go to church very often...or have ribald thoughts...or drink/smoke/toke (in moderation) etc. It's never for anything that hurts another person- in my understanding a Bad Christian would be one that deliberately causes harm- and none of my friends are like that.
I'd like to ask them questions to help me understand this logic gap, but they have already told me that they are Bad Christians...if I took my car to a garage and the mechanic said: "I am a Bad Mechanic", I'd be disinclined to ask for mechanical advice or service from that shop.
But this was the only garage open, so I asked him a question that I haven't uttered in years:

"Let me ask you something: what if you instinctively lived your life in accordance with the words of Christ- perhaps a few bad deeds (such as 'white lies' told to comfort a dying relative)- but considerably more good ones- you never hurt anyone, you help people when you can; you act on empathy and compassion, you are charitable and honest, kind to children, pets and the elderly etc...in short, you live a very moral, exemplary life- except you were not a Christian. Would you still get into Heaven, assuming it exists?"

"Hmm," he pondered," that's a tough one. Me, I'd be inclined to say yes, that it was deeds, not words that counted- and I think that helping people is a form of worship that has it's own rewards...but I'm a Bad Christian. I think most Christians would say that you were going to purgatory -or to Hell. But not me. But my opinion doesn't matter, I'm a Bad..."

"No, you aren't. You are a Good Christian. If your God exists, He surely loves you", I said.
I meant that.


It's been a year or more, but the last time I asked someone that same 'what if?' question, I was told by a self-proclaimed Good Christian that nothing you did on earth would matter unless you first accepted Jesus, that you could save a billion lives and you would still burn in Hell for eternity because you hurt the feelings of a being that's powerful enough to create the Cosmos. On the other hand, you could kill a dozen people, find redemption on Death Row and get into Heaven on the fast track via lethal injection.

I hope I never understand how someone could believe that.

That sort of dogma makes it difficult for me have any faith in God or Man, so it was refreshing to hear a more tolerant, open perspective...my friend had nudged me ever-so slightly towards a favorable impression of his faith, which, I would think, is what a Good Christian would do.
I think his God would approve and would love him for it. I explained this to my buddy, who seemed a little confused, but mostly unruffled. At least he listened.

"But you don't believe in...ah nevermind, dude. You might be crazy but you're right. Even if you do lie to your grandmother."

I think my Bad Christian pals are better souls than they credit themselves for.

Respect My Disbelief

I didn't know it at the time, but in the months preceding my forced hospitalization I did make a few half-hearted and ultimately doomed attempts to "get help" for my drinking.

Jenny was one of those attempts. Jenny was a girl that I worked with during my on-again/off-again temp assignments at Bank of Generica. She was slender and bookish, keeping her long auburn hair in an unfashionable bun and wearing unflattering, baggy clothing with minimal cosmetics.

She looked like the kind of girl who would play Dungeons and Dragons with you- the sort of chick who would allocate more points for her character's Intelligence than for Strength or Charisma.

She wore librarian glasses and sensible shoes.

To me, she was hot. She was real, and it made her the most attractive woman in our department, so I was delighted when she approached me as we were leaving a meeting.

"Do I know you from somewhere? You look very familiar- have we met?", she asked.

For a drunk, this is a tough question to answer. Drunks have bad memories and worse behavior. If she 'knew me from somewhere', it was probably from me being drunk and hitting on her in some stinky-ass rock club.
Perhaps I had sold cocaine to her?
Hmmm...I like this woman. Did I know her?
I wanted to.

"I don't know...are you into the local music scene?"

Maybe she had seen me at a radio-sponsored event. Perhaps she'd even seen me play guitar or bass on-stage!
That would be cool...but the look she gave me indicated that she wasn't aware that there was such a thing as a 'music scene'.

"No...that wouldn't be it. Have I seen you at church?"

"Uh...no, I don't think so."

Church? When was the last time I went to church? I have never attended church in my adult life. I'm sure she hadn't seen me in church.

"Well, it's from somewhere...I feel like I know you..."

She likes me, I thought, but work intervened before I could follow up.

A few days later, we were working together and she picked up our truncated conversation.

"I think I did see you at church."

She named a church. Sure enough, I used to attend AA meetings there when I was on probation, but I didn't want to tell her that.

"Oh, yeah...I have, uh, been there before. It's been a long time, though."

Jenny smiled and said she was glad she figured that out- she'd been thinking about me for several days, it seems. That turned me on. She likes me, tra la la...

We worked together quite well, Jenny was smart and funny and our tedious tasks were not so bad when we did them together- over the course of our talks, I learned that she was into Jazz Dance and liked to write fiction. Cool.

She rarely drank and she didn't do drugs.

I did both daily, but I didn't tell her that.

I didn't want to keep doing those things, I just didn't have a reason to stop. I didn't even know that I wanted to quit- all I knew is that my head was full of really bad ideas and I was desperate for something...but what?

One of my really bad ideas involved Jenny.

I thought that if I could get Jenny to date me, I would find the strength to quit. I would get my courage from her, not from a bottle.
For a woman like Jenny, I believed, I could do anything- including quitting booze.
I hadn't had a significant relationship for years, and the women I did know were at least as drunk and fucked-up as me. Eightballs and benders...I didn't 'date', I binged.

One time, my girlfriend stole all my dope and then tried to sic her half-wolf/half-Shepherd hybrid on me when I demanded the return of my drugs, which she had already sold and shot.
I was the one who usually fed the poor dog-beast, it liked me a lot so it just sat and whined while we fought, but the whole scene was fairly indicative of my success in relationships.

Hey man, can I crash on your couch for awhile?

Why?

My girlfriend threw me out. She tried to attack me with a wolf.

What would happen if I dated a a girl who didn't have a coke dealer on speed dial or a wolf in the backyard?
Maybe if I dated a 'straight' woman, I'd get clean- that was my hope. At least in hindsight, I think that was part of what I was looking for- Jenny was much too bright to date a fuck-up, so I thought maybe she could magically "fix" me just by sleeping with me on a fairly regular interval and doing whatever else it is that people do when they aren't fucking or getting wasted.

That was a false and wholly unfair hope if there ever was one, not to mention a completely ass-backward approach...definitely not a moment of clarity or reason for me. I had completely bottomed-out and didn't even know it.

But the bad idea seemed like a good one at the time.

Of course, first I had to get her to go out with me.

This was really easy to do. A friend of mine was playing at a local Jazz club and I had free admission. When I asked Jenny if she'd like to go, she readily accepted.
She'd been waiting for me to ask. So we went.

We had dinner in the club's quiet dining room- when the waitress cleared our plates, I noticed that I had three empty beer bottles and two shot glasses on my side of the table.

Jenny had consumed about one-third of a glass of wine.
Jenny was aware of this disparity.

"Look, I need to ask you something and you might not like hearing it", she leaned towards me.

"OK."

"How can you be a Seeker if you drink so much? How can you find anything in that condition?"

A Seeker? What is that?

"Um...what's a 'Seeker'?"

"A Seeker of Christ. Of the Truth. I thought that's what you were."

"Uh...well...honestly, I'm not religious..."

Oh no. I can't have this talk right now, I thought. I have too much liquor in me to be tactful and I'm not drunk enough to tell lies. Why is it assumed that I am a Christian? We've never even discussed religion before.

I raised my arm- another beer and a shot over here, please.
I am not ready for this.

"You do believe in God, though. Right? Don't you?"

Make that shot a double!

"Ah...no. I don't."

"What? How can you not believe in God?"

"I just don't...I'm an atheist...or maybe an agnostic. I dunno. I haven't really thought about it much."

This was true and it still is- except for the thinking part. After that night, it occurred to me that I might stand to benefit from giving religion some thought. I figured I 'd better learn enough about it so that the next time a woman asked me if I was a 'Seeker', I'd be able to give the answer that got me laid.

That's how I saw religion. As a tool to be used to coerce others into doing something that they might not otherwise do. A means to power.
Sure, I'll pretend to be a Christian if it means getting laid. Or a raise. Or elected.
Or at least I used to think that way.

After sober reflection, I have no faith that any 'God' exists, but I do believe that using religion as a tool for manipulating people is inherently wrong. It's how wars get started and it's a pretty shoddy foundation for a healthy relationship.

The truth is, I don't really care if there is or isn't a 'God'. It doesn't much matter to me.
I can change myself , but I can't change God. Can I ? Would I even want to?

The beliefs of other's shouldn't be cause for killing.

Does this exchange make sense?:

"Why do we hate them?"

"They worship in an improper fashion."

"How do we know that?"

"Our Book About God tells us that."

"And that is worth killing for?"

"Yes."

"But our God tells us not to kill."

"Die, infidel, die."

It doesn't make sense to me, but it happens every day.

When I was dying, coughing up my shredded guts onto the cold white ER floor, I didn't pray.
I didn't think about God at all. I wanted to live. I was afraid of dying, but not of judgement.
I was bleeding to death and I needed surgery.
God wasn't a part of the decision to go to hospital instead of letting the darkness fall.
Pain was. Fear was. God was not.

Who will feed my cats? I remember thinking about that, but I don't recall saying any prayers .
I remember wanting an ice cube really, really, badly and suddenly feeling quite cold.
No praying.
Whomever said: "there are no atheists in foxholes " was wrong.
I've been in a foxhole of sorts and I didn't convert.

But that was to be in the future.

In the past, I am still talking to Jenny.

All I needed to do was to lie to her and say I believed- and I would have been in her bed, making her cry "Sweet Jesus and Amen, Hally -Yoo-Ha!" all-night long...all I had to do was lie...but I didn't. Looking back, I'm glad I didn't.

"How", she asked, "is it possible to not believe in God? How can you even live like that?"

"Jenny, I really just don't know. I guess I just muddle along. I never really give it much thought."

Jenny was a bit stunned by my revelation.

"You haven't thought about it much? That's not possible."

Maybe I should have lied. She didn't believe the truth. Maybe I should have asked what particular faith she was...not that I much cared. She wasn't a puritan or a tee-totaler, I knew that much.

"Uh...it just doesn't come up much."

This was true, but it wasn't well received by Jenny, who was Seeking Truth.

Jenny took a long sip of her wine and stared at me. She looked stricken. She glanced down at her wine. I thought she was going to gulp the rest of it but she set it down, pushed it aside.

I thought, she's ready to leave and the band hasn't even started yet.
I'm not getting any tonight.

"I respect your beliefs."

That's what she said.

"I respect your beliefs."

It was a concluding statement but I was too drunk to let it go. Mistakes were made.

"You can't respect my beliefs. I don't have any beliefs.
I know things or I don't.
Things are or they aren't.
Whether I believe or not doesn't change reality, so I choose not to believe in anything."

Of course, I was too much of an asshole to keep that belief to myself.

"Are you sober enough to drive me home or do I need to call a cab?"

"I believe that I can drive."

"Liar."