My Brother: happy Mother's Day Mom.
Mom: We'll see.
My Brother: ok....
Mom: You smell like Pot. You been smokin pot in my house? You drug addict! Get the fuck out of my house!
My Brother: Fuck You Mom! If you call me a drug addict again, I'm gonna cut out your cunt and string you up by your ovaries, you castrating witch!
Mom: GET OUT!!!!! I don't ever want to see you again!
-------------------------------------------------------------
My brother didn't come home for Mother's Day this year.
I, on the other hand, had a more enjoyable Mother's Day experience.
Such is the drama of Suburban America.
I envy my Mid-Western relatives' ability to get the hell along with each other. They're mind-bogglingly conservative Catholics. But at least they eat dinner together in peace.
They live their lives by the bible. They believe in God, which doesn't bother me as much as the fact that they believe more in the people who pontificate and propogate war, nonsense, doom and risky fiscal opportunity all in the name of "Our Holy Lord Jesus Christ."
I'd like to believe in God, in fact i used to. But around the age of 5 when I saw my father putting out the Christmas presents; I figured that if Santa Claus didn't exist; there was no way that "God" (in the Catholic sense my Mother and her family taught me about at church) could exist.
I can't believe in an illogical possibility when it concerns my personal fate and concept of free will. And most theologians will tell you that FREE WILL is 'God's greatest gift to man.' If that was true, there wouldn't be so much pressure and guilt to follow some old book's teachings lest you be banished upon death to the fiery depths of Hell.
__________________________________
Have you ever seen that Simpsons episode where Homer becomes a genius and mathematically disproves the existence of God?
It's a good one.
_____________________
It's just about time to drift off in to that dark old cavern of my skull. I'll lie down in a dank, wet corner and curl up with my dog Roflcopter. My dog never judges me.
From the corner of my mind - to the spam pile in your inbox - good night.
Mom: We'll see.
My Brother: ok....
Mom: You smell like Pot. You been smokin pot in my house? You drug addict! Get the fuck out of my house!
My Brother: Fuck You Mom! If you call me a drug addict again, I'm gonna cut out your cunt and string you up by your ovaries, you castrating witch!
Mom: GET OUT!!!!! I don't ever want to see you again!
-------------------------------------------------------------
My brother didn't come home for Mother's Day this year.
I, on the other hand, had a more enjoyable Mother's Day experience.
Such is the drama of Suburban America.
I envy my Mid-Western relatives' ability to get the hell along with each other. They're mind-bogglingly conservative Catholics. But at least they eat dinner together in peace.
They live their lives by the bible. They believe in God, which doesn't bother me as much as the fact that they believe more in the people who pontificate and propogate war, nonsense, doom and risky fiscal opportunity all in the name of "Our Holy Lord Jesus Christ."
I'd like to believe in God, in fact i used to. But around the age of 5 when I saw my father putting out the Christmas presents; I figured that if Santa Claus didn't exist; there was no way that "God" (in the Catholic sense my Mother and her family taught me about at church) could exist.
I can't believe in an illogical possibility when it concerns my personal fate and concept of free will. And most theologians will tell you that FREE WILL is 'God's greatest gift to man.' If that was true, there wouldn't be so much pressure and guilt to follow some old book's teachings lest you be banished upon death to the fiery depths of Hell.
__________________________________
Have you ever seen that Simpsons episode where Homer becomes a genius and mathematically disproves the existence of God?
It's a good one.
_____________________
It's just about time to drift off in to that dark old cavern of my skull. I'll lie down in a dank, wet corner and curl up with my dog Roflcopter. My dog never judges me.
From the corner of my mind - to the spam pile in your inbox - good night.
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