Gone are the days when we can look out at our culture and say, "Okay, if we just fix this and that we'll all be all right and Jesus and his daddy-o will be pleased and we'll be swell for-fuckin'-EVER," or at least those days should be gone. How many more examples of faith belief and magical thinking transmogrifying into dog shit on the heels of our jogging shoes will it take? Dunno Donno, but more, for sure –– more.
The Anti-Vaxxer Deal-breaker, Is the Purest Deal-breaker Yet
This is an absolute line in the blood-soaked sand
I can still love/like/respect (somehow, difficult as it is) GOP’s, even Trumpster-Morons, even stupid/ignorant Insurrectionist ass-hats who believe that the second-coming of fuckin’ Jesus H. is Trump. All of these are difficult to manage, but ultimately do-able.
But you Anti-vaxxers, you disease-spreading pieces of Q-anon Laura/Tucker/SeanH hypocritical fuck-nuts, NO, not you — For you, there is no room at the Inn and there NEVER will be.
I can be in the world at the same time as you but you’ll never, ever be able to beg, borrow, steal much less earn my respect. You are too fucked-up to deal with at all. Indeed, if there is any way by which I can avoid you, I will.
Regardless of the blank expression on my face, if I’m trapped in some space with you — ignore my look, my comatose affect, I’m tellin’ you, here and now and this will never change, You’re an immoral, selfish, fucked-up, disease-spreading sub-loser, loser. Like a serial child-raping malignant narcissistic evangelical psychopathic killer (only probably stupider). So, yeah, your anti-vax thing is a deal breaker — no more bowling league team memberships, pal.
No more backyard barbecues getting together over a couple dozen PBR’s.
Just, Fuck off b/c NO.
Anti-vaxxer hospitalized with COVID-19 after claiming vaccine would ‘wipe out a lot of stupid people’
It gets better This guy is a “Far right Christian Talk Show Host.” Finally, definitive proof of god’s existence and his/her sense of humor.
Prosperity Gospel & Thou
Let’s get down to bidnez
“It Sunday, bitches; where's my money?”
Not All the Gods of History Can Change Fates of Men
EVANGELICAL’S, TRUMP IS NOT YOUR PAL!
Fate treats us in destiny to what we most often deserve. But a good kick into a deep pit sometimes helps. Have a swell, righteous day, evangelical hypocrites, all.
Tell kids the truth!
Or they get this pic in their baskets! They can handle it!
Just kidding (kind of), it’s the “cruelest month of all” holiday. We’re having a “bone in” spiral-cut ham, with all the trimmings.
A Pithy Argument for LSD over Jesus H. Christ
The two are not necessarily co-restrictive, but pretty fuckin’ close!
We (the artist’s husband and I) were drinking Scotch, expensive stuff —
And smoking cigars, also pricey — a bit of manly success and masculine, not bravado exactly, but call it the opposite of shyness — the antithesis of modesty. And to be honest, probably more than “a bit.”
We had a hint of appreciation/self-satisfaction, some sliver of humble pride (emphasis on sliver) at work in us, but well-disguised, especially from ourselves.
My friend was a doctor, myself, sometimes a poet — we were happy, laughing, visiting, as I barbequed the steaks —
And from somewhere...The scotch? The smoke? The coolness of the desert evening? I heard words come out of my mouth,
“Does yer wife believe in god?”
His wife, the artist, was sitting with mine inside our house; they were having their own conversation. Her paintings had grabbed me by my balls, heart and whatever minimal vapor of invisible/nothingness one might call a soul...
He said, “I envy people’s faith’. I wish I had it, but
He went on and his explanation made sense; experience and intelligence informed his views, modern, reasonable, and smart.
He asked, “Do you believe?”
I felt the scotch warming my brain and the cigar charging my confidence, so I launched into my standard hodge-podge that had always been, has always been, and still is, my view:
“I think the words we possess to try and consider the mysteries, fail us. ‘God’, ‘life’, ‘the soul’ what do all these things really mean? Operational definitions are impossible, therefore the parameters for understanding are bigger, broader than our words can accommodate...”
And right at this moment, this Nano-second, as I was preparing to launch into my Buddhist leanings, my deep attraction to its tenants and practices, as I minimally understood them —
Suddenly, the world blew up!!
It turned into an expanse of color and shapes, wildly out of control —
Nothing of the little patio where I’d been standing, next to my tiny barbeque, tongs for turning steaks in hand, not the cigar smoke, not the ice in my glass, nor the jo-jo-ba hedge against the stucco wall, none of it remained.
I was swept up, sucked into the sky, as if lifted by a huge hand — and the colors were amazing: reds so bright that the flames of a perfect sunset couldn’t match them —
Blues so deep that I wept in their grip —
Landscapes far beyond mere Earth, far beyond other planets —
And mountains, deserts, rivers of color, skies of light unlike any light ever seen before —
There was no sound,
Maybe a wind unheard, maybe the silent crawling of an unseen creature moving through this impossible . . .what? World? Planet? Heaven?
Hell? And I had no body, none that I could see, none I could feel —
I was simply consciousness without ego, without ‘self’ but still me, still perceiving, knowing, feeling all until...
My wife opened the screen door and asked, “Are the steaks almost ready?”
And I knew this was not god’s voice, nor an angel checking-in — and the cigar smoke was back, indeed, I puffed and the doctor asked,
“You need a light?”
But smoke ebbed out from the corners of my lips and he answered his own question, “No, you’re still good.”
And I said, “Yes, I’m fine.”
Then, I said to my wife, “The steaks look okay, Give us 3 or 4 more minutes.”
She smiled and stepped back into our warm house.
I watched her through the glass window in the door, sit back down with the doctor’s wife, the artist who’d painted the mystical Kingdom I’d just visited —
A place created not by god, but by a human being, with eye and ear and something beyond senses, something perhaps, beyond simplistic, childish beliefs in a big daddy who loves or hates. who rewards and punishes us —
Not god, not God, but a human spirit, a human talent, more miraculous, or at least more interesting than superstitious belief.
And with a talent beyond and outside words —
‘Do you believe in god?’ I thought again about this, silently this time — remembering that a wiser man than I once answered with only an expression “Who’s asking the question?”
Yes, God/Words — god/words
If any answer exists it’ll come from inside us: from feelings outside of words, from thoughts apart from language, it’ll come from someplace other than conversations or explanations.
Like a visit to great art, while stoned on acid.
Sounds like a problem? Yeah, b/c it IS
Two great wisdom lines:
“There is no God, and he is always with us,” said a brilliant Buddhist writer and thinker and practitioner whose name I can’t recall.
“God didn’t make us in his image; we made him in ours. And from this arrogant idiocy has come most all of our problems with religion.” A quote from me, (whose name I can recall) but words that matter not a bit.
Although I will admit that I like “Arrogant idiocy.”
I’m quite proud of this phrasing. It reminds me of “foolish wisdom,” a biblical wording that makes more and more sense the longer I live and the less I understand.
As a newly added editor on Christian Pollution, here’s the deal.
I like what I understand of Jesus H. Christ’s ethics, and I find his metaphysical and epistemological views, sketchy at best...
I snapped this image from my living room a few years back and have hundreds of equally moving sunset pics from all kinds of places. (If you wanna play soaring Christian Muzak, while flashing this pic of mine, feel free).
You can explain this pic via meteorology, physics, photo-blah blah blah, or “God’s glorious creation.”
I don’t give a fuck what you say about it.
But the whole “Jesus painted it with his fingertip” is pure idiocy and anyone over the age of 3, knows this.
My/our goal at Christian Pollution is to set the record straight and stop the harm being done by really stupid, lazy people — the same fools who continue to spread a life-threatening disease around the world in the name of their “faith.”
Fuckin’ STOP IT...your faith beliefs have no right to trump my desire to stay alive and enjoy lots more sunrises and sunsets.
Have a nice day...No, really, have one if you can and best of luck if you’re trying.
According to numerous eye-witness testimonies, Jesus wanted us to love one another and that was a major part of his ethical direction. Settle on that. Work on that and stop polluting the world with your desire for personal immortality and magic tricks ( you know, growing limbs back on lepers' and such).
Stop polluting the world.
Just fuckin’ stop it!
Dear Baby Buddha in yer Manger
A prayer for atheists & others at the age of reason and above
We all wanna live, for the most part, for as long as our various parts have not reached or exceeded either their “Sell by” or “Expiration dates.” We are not all like the Anti-vaxxers and their ilk who actually think/believe/posture as though they believe, that they are going somewhere after they, you know, kinda die — to spend all eternity playing harps and shit at the right hand of Big Daddy and Laddio. And who, even though they profess to believe this horseshit, nonetheless, grab every available hospital bed, including ones that could be used for injured children and such, to stay alive. And from these beds these Christian anti-vaxxers continue spouting anti-vax-rants unto their final rasping, gasping, gravelly hoarse moans about their freedom and shit.
So baby Buddha in the manger, we know there is no room at the Inn, but any chance you could spring loose a couple of ER beds for peeps who aren’t total sociopathic ass hats? Thanks for listening, have a nice day A — fuckn’ — men.
“And the waters of the load, flowed onto & unto the wicked and the righteous in equal wetness (and stuff).” — St. Terry, blessed son of nobody in particular.
Trump Bullying and Anti-Christian Ethics
People calling themselves Christian and MAGA/Anti-Vaxxers are insane
A poem from before the election of 2016. As true and truer today than it was then.
I got tricked, or I should say I tricked myself into believing that my fellow citizens had changed from the idiocy and cynicism of Ronald Reagan to some kind of decency and goodness by the election of Barack Obama.
But now Donald Trump with his blatant, overt, in your face racism, misogyny, mocking of the disabled, grotesque bullying, demagoguery, not a single thing about him suggesting that he has a single fucking clue about how to govern, (not to even mention his con man fraudulence), has stepped into Reagan’s shoes as the nominee of the Republican Party (they love to call themselves The “Party of Lincoln,” absent even the slightest sense/recognition of how ridiculous, inaccurate, and ironic that misrepresentation is). I got tricked or I tricked myself into believing our country could function. But I get it now: whether Trump wins or loses, my capacity for deluding myself is over. We Americans are, and likely always will be, as capable of willful ignorance as we are of finding the better angels of our natures.
No Matter How Shitty Things Seem
Remember in your very own, quite recent lifetime, shit’s been even worse.
I swear to fuckin’ Christ — look!
Just fuckin’ LOOK!!!!!
Let us pray to Trump!
And remember, sewer rats are the ones who make it all the way to the sewers, after swimming away from a sinking ship!