Every Sunday, I crawl up from my crypt and venture out into the world of the living to see what the big deal is. I do this both to get groceries and run errands and to remind myself why I hate the human race so much. And boy, after the day I had being out and about with some of the best representatives of humanity, I am reminded why I'm such a social recluse.
I went out to lunch with a friend (the only time we see each other, Sundays) and the restaurant we chose was packed to the brim with people. Now keep in mind there is that whole "egg crisis" thing going on right now, and that we're going to a Mexican food restaurant for tacos. So when we discover that we can't have soft tacos, I order what I assume to be a small plate while he orders two soft tacos. While listening to him opine over how much his tooth hurts and needs to be pulled while he chows down on chips and salsa, I see a nun enter the establishment.
Now she wasn't dressed in all black, but the giant crucifix on her neck combined with her blue and white outfit and hat made me realize she was a representative of the Catholic faith. I go back to my drink and make idle chatter while eyeing the nun as she sits down across from my table, where she is chatting with a couple of older people, a man, and a woman.
This is what I hear...
"...and I guess we'll just have to not go to the wedding," Mom said to the Nun, who chewed on her salad thoughtfully.
"Have you discussed this with her? Had her speak with one of the priests?" The Nun asked, looking between the two parents.
"She says she's an atheist, so what point would there be?" Dad says, leaning on his cane.
Nun puts her fork down and clasps her hands in front of her. "Let's bow our heads in prayer and see if we can convince your daughter not to go through with this sham that she's calling a wedding."
... I then listened to them pray for the soul of their daughter and two grandchildren, who are about to suffer "a homosexual relationship." Now, before you go pointing fingers at me for listening in on a private discussion, let it be known I could hear this exchange from over eight feet away, in a crowded restaurant, while my friend was in full dialogue with me, that I was also keeping pace with.
After being disgusted by man's various ways of learning to hate each other, my plate of food arrives, and I see the quesadilla I ordered is apparently two and a half pounds of cheese and chicken. I was not prepared to eat this much, nor did I want to eat the much. But I'd ordered it, and I was raised that you eat what's put in front of you whether you like it or not, so I dug in.
Now, sitting deep beneath the graveyard as I type this, I feel my distended stomach gurgling and protesting my dedication. The wife is telling me to just relax and take some Pepto Bismol, but we don't have any and I'd rather just sleep this off.
The reason I'm posting about my Sunday adventure is to once again remind the world that religion does not make the world a better place. There were two parents/grandparents that were judging their flesh and blood for doing something as simple as a civil union, and they were consulting with a religious figure about whether or not they should attend. If the quesadilla hadn't made me sick, the sheer bitterness in their tones would have.
I went out to lunch with a friend (the only time we see each other, Sundays) and the restaurant we chose was packed to the brim with people. Now keep in mind there is that whole "egg crisis" thing going on right now, and that we're going to a Mexican food restaurant for tacos. So when we discover that we can't have soft tacos, I order what I assume to be a small plate while he orders two soft tacos. While listening to him opine over how much his tooth hurts and needs to be pulled while he chows down on chips and salsa, I see a nun enter the establishment.
Now she wasn't dressed in all black, but the giant crucifix on her neck combined with her blue and white outfit and hat made me realize she was a representative of the Catholic faith. I go back to my drink and make idle chatter while eyeing the nun as she sits down across from my table, where she is chatting with a couple of older people, a man, and a woman.
This is what I hear...
"...and I guess we'll just have to not go to the wedding," Mom said to the Nun, who chewed on her salad thoughtfully.
"Have you discussed this with her? Had her speak with one of the priests?" The Nun asked, looking between the two parents.
"She says she's an atheist, so what point would there be?" Dad says, leaning on his cane.
Nun puts her fork down and clasps her hands in front of her. "Let's bow our heads in prayer and see if we can convince your daughter not to go through with this sham that she's calling a wedding."
... I then listened to them pray for the soul of their daughter and two grandchildren, who are about to suffer "a homosexual relationship." Now, before you go pointing fingers at me for listening in on a private discussion, let it be known I could hear this exchange from over eight feet away, in a crowded restaurant, while my friend was in full dialogue with me, that I was also keeping pace with.
After being disgusted by man's various ways of learning to hate each other, my plate of food arrives, and I see the quesadilla I ordered is apparently two and a half pounds of cheese and chicken. I was not prepared to eat this much, nor did I want to eat the much. But I'd ordered it, and I was raised that you eat what's put in front of you whether you like it or not, so I dug in.
Now, sitting deep beneath the graveyard as I type this, I feel my distended stomach gurgling and protesting my dedication. The wife is telling me to just relax and take some Pepto Bismol, but we don't have any and I'd rather just sleep this off.
The reason I'm posting about my Sunday adventure is to once again remind the world that religion does not make the world a better place. There were two parents/grandparents that were judging their flesh and blood for doing something as simple as a civil union, and they were consulting with a religious figure about whether or not they should attend. If the quesadilla hadn't made me sick, the sheer bitterness in their tones would have.
Fantastic Sunday afternoon. I love you comment on the ever telling falsity of Christian zealots. Good job
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