Behold: the serpent! |
Posted by
Tiglath
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- Monday, April 16 2007, 8:40:59 (CEST) from 203.15.249.28 - 203.15.249.28 - Windows XP - Internet Explorer Website: Website title: |
Print Normal font Large font I have spent the morning working on a post about terrorism, but that will have to wait until tomorrow. For something just occurred at my front door that I believe to be far more relevant to Australians than terrorism: religion. Now, I know that many who regularly read this blog are sick and tired of me banging on about my feelings on religion, but the fact is I'd stop talking about it if the constant threat of The Invisible Man would just go away, but it will not, the farting of its stupid trumpets never shutting up, and there is no escape, not even behind the doors of one's own home. Australia can thank its lucky Southern Cross that I did not embark on a career in politics years ago, for if I were Prime Minister, right at this very moment, I'd legislate to have all of God's doorknockers executed without trial, and I'd rig every ballot, engineer any gerrymander and exterminate any opposition to see it through the senate, the wages of my sins happily paid to the Devil that exists no more than the Loch Ness Monster. The trouble began - as it always does with these morons - with me being so fucking polite. Last Friday, a confederacy of the insane appeared at my door, bibles in hand and nothing else planned for the rest of the day (because they're insane, you see). Because I don't like to be needlessly rude to people - a guilt complex fashioned by a childhood among fellow delusional idiots in the educational asylums that regularly adjoin those big barns that feature revolting depictions of people being tortured on the walls - I allowed these people the "five minutes" they assured me would be the extent of their active lunacy on my doorstep. One could argue, I suppose, that I got my money's worth, for a good 20 minutes later they were still there, babbling absolute nonsense from earmarked pages of that violent bestseller written back when the world thought it was flat, my little boy being visibly troubled by such grotesque utterances as "eat his flesh" and "drink his blood" and "eternal agony in the fires of hell". I don't know what made me wait so long - I suppose I was curious to see how far they could go without boring themselves - but it was around the fourth reference to cannibalism that I thought I'd better put a stop to this suburban voodoo and get on with my day. After waiting for a break in the "story" until I was sure one was never going to happen unprompted, I interrupted the ringleader, thanked her and her friends for coming, announced that I now had some work to attend to and bade them farewell. "Can I just come in and bless your house with a prayer?" said the sufferer. "No, thank you," I replied, with a courteous smile. "I'm very busy today and I do not have the time." "It will only take a few minutes..." "Well, with respect, that's what you said 27 minutes ago, so I'm happy to cut my losses right now, thank you." "OK. Well, what other day would be suitable..." "No, listen," I said, a little more exasperated now. "As I told you at the start, I don't believe in God, so there's little point to all of this." "It doesn't matter," said the dickhead. "The bible says that you are still welcome in God's house, for he who strays from..." "No, you don't get it. It is not that I accidentally don't believe in God. I actively, purposefully, merrily do not believe in God." "But it is not too late. If you start now..." It is at this point that I believe most people would have forgiven me if I'd slammed the door in her face, or told her to go away in the most extreme possible terms, or pulled my penis out of my pants and blatantly masturbated until they all decided my doorstep was no place for them. But, alas, in a decision I now regret, I remained polite till the end, because I've always had sympathy for the delusional and the mentally handicapped. It's not her fault that she believes in this shit - for all I know, the poor fool had been accosted at her door by some lunatic and brainwashed in a determined and invasive ceremony much the same as that which she was trying to perpetrate here. So I kept my cool and, eventually, she agreed to leave, with a parting word that troubled me only slightly, as I was certain she'd absorbed the message: "God bless you, and I hope to see you again soon." That was last Friday and, today, the very next working day, her hopes appeared to have been rewarded, the appearance of she and her zany associates again at my doorstep surely an act of God. I am proud to say that everything I should have done on Friday, but did not, was brought to bear in an exorcism that, judging by how swiftly these ghouls departed, could be considered most successful indeed. I do not mind if others want to believe in God - or the Loch Ness Monster, for that matter - but I can see no responsible reason for why anyone who does can't just shut up about it. In the future, I will be treating those who mistake my doorstep for a pulpit as no different to house invaders or drunks making noise, for that is basically what they are. And they will be swiftly educated on that which is worshipped in my house. Posted by Jack Marx April 16, 2007 12:33 PM --------------------- |
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