If You Would Like To Tell Me About Your Religion, I’ll Tell You About Mine

There is a proportional relationship between craziness and beard length.

There is a proportional relationship between craziness and beard length.

I visited Toronto this past Memorial Day weekend and had a lovely conversation with a beautiful woman. (Aren’t good conversations just a little bit better when the other party is easy on the eyes?) We covered numerous topics, but perhaps the most important was a brief exchange of information about her religion and mine. And as I gazed into her cavernous eyes, the color of which my mind has, sadly, already forgotten, my mind danced with the promise of that which would not be.

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Praise to the Lord, the Almighty

The Gold, the Glitz
the all empowering artifice.
The Devils, the Angels,
the Great Cross.

The Blood, the Body
the Pain, the Torment, the Punishment

Massive, encompassing, everlasting, overwhelming
and painted in two simple colors:
Black and White
Right and Wrong
Yes and No

Believe in the Power of the Lord
and you will be saved, my Son.

Believe in the Power of the gold,
of the domed roof stretching to the infinitus heavens.

Believe in the Cross that can see all of your
debased thoughts before they ever
pop into your consciousness.

You are a carrier of Evil,
and there is only one way
through to Salvation and Peace: My Way
The Way of God

Can you see them with their heads bowed,
mumbling my incantations in foreign tongue?

Can you feel their lustful desire of hope and
happiness and security billowing out
and expanding the room with inflated self-worth?

Can you see their pious movements-
the kneeling, the forming of the cross upon the chest, the bowed head-
and know they have given themselves to a life of servitude?

Hear the organ play, my Son.
Hear my call.

Fear me for I am All
and you are but a lost speck of dust searching for a bin to call home.