Monthly Archives: April 2018

Precepts of Moderate Religiosity

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Praying too little means you’re probably only praying when you need something.

Praying too much is disrespectful. You should pray more than you need to but less than you “have to.”

Make it special for Godsake!

Religion and edifying spirituality is the salt of the earth, not the dirt; it should not be everywhere all the time.

Turn the other cheek so the second punch misses.

It’s better to shop for churches than to go to just one.

All of the world’s Holy Books have many edifying qualities, and many, many stupid parts as well. See, ya gotta keep shopping.

It’s possible Jesus and others have been apotheosized into someone super-supernatural. But it’s a certainty that none of the Advanced Aliens believe in him. They might have their own. Point is, if any earthly entity has become godlike, its only in these parts. Not Andromeda. Those Crab Nebulans aren’t preaching our gospels, and why should they? ‘You gonna send a whole nebula to Hell?

The concept of hell need not be abandoned, just radically downsized. Hell is surgery not needless suffering. It makes things better or else God wouldn’t have made it. But its probably surgery without anaesthesia, so watch out.

The parts where Jesus sounds like a hippie are the best parts. But that still doesn’t make being a hippie the right way to go.

“This church is the only true one” is virus code.

Be fruitful and multiply has become virus code. It used to be good and therefore holy. But that was then.

The fruit by which ye shall know them is when they forbid you to look at the rest of the garden and they talk shit about it. That’s when you know your fruit has gone bad. And all fruit go bad.

That’s why you gotta keep shopping.

I Remember Jokes

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But most people don’t. They should. Then they’d be more like me. Strike that–I don’t want a bunch of me’s out there.

Remembering jokes is like remembering dreams for most people; it just slips through. Because they’re slimy. Jokes slither where few else dare to tread, leaving no tracks in the memory.

I was looking at this pack of incense sticks in the hippie heath food store when I noticed one with a very strange name. “Virgin of Guadalupe?!” I asked aloud. “What would the Virgin of Guadalupe smell like?”

“Fresh,” answered the passing hippie store clerk.

See, I remember that. It’s a good memory. Jokes make for good memories if you just take the time to grab ’em by the tail before they slither off. You should always be able to make yourself laugh just by recollecting funny shit.

Because if you can do that then–then–then you’d be more like me… Strike that, keep yourself laugh-deprived.

People who make jokes need to start a tradition of occasional allusions to other jokes. All the other art forms do it. They keep each other relevant that way, like academics who quote other academics who quote them. It’s part of the inherent circle-jerk nature of culture.

Here, let me show you–look into this microscope:`Microscope1See?

Now that was a Python joke, from the Scottish UFO skit. Relevant once again thanks to me. And you were going to let that joke die!

Great jokes shouldn’t die. Not right away. They should last as long as great poems, which is like what, 100 years? Something like that.

When great jokes live on within you then you live on within their greatness. And you become more…more…more like me.

Strike that, let ’em die. You don’t want to be like me and laugh out loud by yourself in the supermarket. You can get hauled off for that. And for good reason too–out of context laughter is a threat to any decent social order.

Here, let me show you:`Microscope2

They say that if our memories were too distinct we’d die from all the recollected pain. So if we could remember all the laughs all at once we’d get hauled off.

And then you’d really be like me. And that’s no good.