I would like to hear about your final service....

I recall my last mass. I was absent for many years and felt like "something was missing". I didn't even realize I had become an atheist. As I stepped through the threshold, dipped my hand in the holy water and signed the cross, the familiar scent of incense, the soft droning organ music and the loud echo of the occasional cough brought back a flood of memories from being raised as a catholic school boy.

I sat there, my biggest concern that I had forgotten the apostles' creed, and would be "caught". Or that I would stand instead of kneel. The lady next to me smiled at me and was a great singer. Sometimes I think people who sing well really enjoy church more.

However, suddenly I started thinking "this is such bullshit". With each phrase from the priest and sheep-borg response I started to be repulsed. I no longer belonged. I felt like a fake, about to gag. At some point the priest mentioned how the parking lot needed repair and then the basket came around again, and I was like "really? why do you assholes send the fucking basket around twice". Oh yeah. I had changed. I started looking at the deceived flock around me. I had become a contemptuous observer instead of a willing participant. I looked at the twenty foot blonde-haired jesus nailed to his cross and thought, big fucking deal, my own grandmother suffered way more than you.

As I got in my car, I knew that was the last time.

Tags: church, going, to

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Only if you own a really big blender.

You ain't alone, arch (that's the ez-spell version).

I'm eightydamntwo and not looking for a gf but Xian Mingle emails me at least weekly. I see it only when I check my spam locker for the occasional non-spam message Yahoo sends there.

RE: "I'm eightydamntwo" - well, congratufuckin'lations!

Still, don't you think maybe WE need something like that too?

Something like what?

Atheist Mingle

"Gives You That Tingle,
For Those Who Are Single,
Without Costing Much Jingle!"

I LIKE it!

Wonderful!  I loved it all, but the last sentence rocked!

Yay, you, George - that middle-of-the-service thing definitely sends a message.

Sounds like a setup to a bad joke arch :)

Me? Bad joke? How can you say those in the same breath?

I don't remember my last time but I do remember when it occurred to me something wasn't quit right in the Holy Spirit Church. 

The priest got up to give the sermon and said; "How many of you are ready to go the Heaven and be with Jesus right now?"

Well being a loving member of the space doG and heavily brainwashed I raised my hand straight away, who wouldn't want to be with the baby jessy and his Mom, and the holy bird thingy, you betcha I was ready right then, Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker here we come...all 7 of us...out of a full Catholic Chruch???

Just me a kid and 6 old coots on deaths door, WTF something was definitely not right, if the stuff I was being told was true then every hand in that church should have been raised toward the sky daddy, they weren't.

It occurred to me at that moment something wasn't quit right in the Emerald City and I think I may have even see a pair of shoes sticking out below the curtain...a young boys life shattered by the truth...oh well there were still girls to occupy my thoughts. 

The last time I went to church it was a Catholic mass for my grandmother's funeral. I was a pall-bearer (at her request) so there was no getting out of it. I had to get there early. I even had to sit right up front.

I ended up right beside this weird statue of Jesus at about age 5. He was wearing a huge golden crown and a bathrobe, and had thrown up this kooky hand signal that looked like a gang sign. He looked pretty uppity about it too.

They lit up this incense at one point. Then the priest walked around with it in a little hookah on a chain. He held it up and swung it back and forth. Every time it swung the hookah made a loud clink against the chain and let out a puff of white smoke.

So the priest walked around and gave my grandmother's coffin three puffs of white smoke: clink, clink, clink. Then he gave the altar a few hits: clink, clink, clink. He even came over and gave the smug gangland Jesus statute a little toke; clink, clink, clink. It smelled great. I almost raised my hand and asked where he got that sweet stuff.

Everything about it was just so odd. The standing. The kneeling. The group chanting. The singing. The sitting. The priest does some solo chanting. More kneeling. Then more sitting while the priest gets up on a ladder and bitches at you about something. More standing. Now everybody shake hands. More singing. More group changing. Empty your wallets into the basket. (I skipped that one.) The kneeling again. More group chanting. The kneeling again. Now everybody line up: you all get a little cracker. (I skipped that part too.) Blah blah blah, okay you can go. Grab the coffin and carry it out. Sunshine. Freedom. Sanity.

It was all so alien and strange. So fucked up. So sad and sickening. Everything in that Church was a monument to the malfunctioning brain.

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