Orgasmic Religion And Morons

Its Sunday and I just got back from my dose of the good news and such.

It was good.

I don't know about you but I always thought of religion mainly as the cause of those hideously boring Sunday school sessions. It was only fun when chocolates and sweets were given around.

It is still boring now. Hideously boring most of the time. Today was good, though.

Back then when I was shorter, when I think of religion I think of people murmuring unintelligible sounds while trying to feel really bad about themselves so Big G wouldn't get pissed off and thunderbolt their fucking ass. Or if they actually knew what they were saying, it was basically an attempt to suck up to Big G to get what they wanted. But only on rare occasions when they were really screwed and had no other options. Most of the time it was just a strange social obligation. Go to church because other people will think badly of them if they didn't.

For me, going to church was mainly because of a certain very nice Christian girl I had the hardest of hard on's. Ohhhh, how I sinned every time I saw her in church. Yes and verily I say, I fucking sinned every minute of the two hours each Sundays.

For the life of me, I don't know where she is now but I wish her well. I don't think she knew but some day I will tell her. Of my hard on's on those Sunday mornings. That would be nice I think.

Anyway.

There were some value in the holiday rituals I participated in but slight, to say the least. And so religion for me when I was growing up was just an additional social responsibility. Like showering and not saying things or murmuring shit loads of radda-yabara-aaamaa-mama-gaya that made other people uncomfortable.

But just recently, I re-discovered religion. I re-experienced being born again. I found the white man's religion, Christianity again. And what it's all about.

I was at a friend's house yesterday, chilling out in his small garden and having a deep conversation while downing them big cats when suddenly after my 8th and 12th of his, he exclaimed, "Oh, wow! Look at the sun."

And I did. And it was gorgeous.

I felt such satisfaction. Taking in the beauty, I just felt a spontaneous urge to thank the creator of that sunset. It was as if that certain nice and very Christian girl unexpectedly kissed me on the cheek. I felt excited and happy and affectionate. Almost gay like. Or whatever.

I wanted to give Big G a hug or a smile or something.

And I think that's what real prayer is. Not kissing Big G's ass like he's a friggin boss you're trying to get a raise from. And just like that, it all made sense. Finally, I realise all those prayers praising Big G made fucking sense.

I'm still a little skeptical about all these institutionalized religion and I still go to chirch, yes. But now I'm beginning to get a sense of the impulse that originally created these religions. These traditions. It started with someone who had a personal relationship with Big G, like you might with a dog or your car or something.

Then them morons and weirdos saw that person and tried to emulate his actions rather than trying to understand him and his thoughts and feelings.

Here is an analogy.

Let's say knowing Big G is like having ooooh, I don't know. An orgasm, maybe. People see someone having an orgasm and they go like, "I want to get me some of that". And start copying the persons distorted face and grunting sounds. Meanwhile, the serious seekers start learning about sex. Often times the distorted face copiers get fucking pissed off, frightened, disgusted or jealous and try to kill the serious seekers or drive them out of town.

But that's all fucked up because if them morons would just stick around a little longer, they might just get fucking some.

Fucking morons!

Where was I? Errrr...