Being Catholic (while my beliefs could in no way, shape, or form be construed as remotely Catholic), I can’t say I’m offended by much.
Though, being Ash Wednesday, I had a sausage biscuit for breakfast, which means I’m going directly to hell (Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200). I feel badly about it. I mean, my mom did go out of her way to make tuna fish for lunch. Ah well.
I do have to go to church today though. Parental requirement. And of course, this means one of my friends will be completely idiotic and say “Dude, you’ve got like, um, some dirt on your forehead.” Heathen spawn.
Because remember: Jesus saves…….money. Tax exemption and all. Which is a good thing. I mean, we really really needed a bunch of bronze statues from Italy for a courtyard no one wanted.
And the baptismal foot bath! Whoo hoo! Now that thing is sweet. I want one. Badly. We dont’t have a regular old baptismal font. We have like the holy jacuzzi. Which is really neat. No word on when they’re installing the water jets.
It’s ok though. Really. Because any faith that insists I drink alcohol first thing Sunday morning can’t be too shabby. The wafer isn’t much of a washer down, though. Always gets stuck on the roof of my mouth. It’s like eating a gauze pad.
Was anyone else frightened of Jesus hanging on the cross as a kid? It is kinda morbid. But I appreciate the hypocrisy of Catholic criticism of nudity in art, while there is a big old marble man in a speedo splayed out over the altar. But, I think the priests dig that in their own, uncanny, nutty way. It’s like a fashion show. (Swaddling cloth is in this season). Though, I can do without the thorny accesories. Baseball caps are good like that.
Of course Mardi Gras is a Catholic thing. And nothing screams Catholicism more than urinating in public. Though, if you’re feeling interpretive in a Geneva, Calvinistic sort of way, you can just call it a baptism by natural means (that brick wall in the alley needed to repent its sinful ways).
Virgins are big in Catholicism. Ok, well one of them is. Which makes the whole Mardi Gras nudity motif something of an odd thing. Then again, none of my Catholic friends have been virgins ever since someone slipped the tequila in the kool aid at Jason Gilles’s 15th birthday party.
Though, I can say, in one instance, we had to whip out the frankencense and mhyrr 9 months later.
But, no. Today’s Ash Wednesday, and I ate meat. And on Good Friday, I’ll probably have a corn dog. It’s the way of things. As long as the ressurection of Jesus results in my getting a chocolate and peanut butter easter egg on Easter Sunday, I’m downright fanatical. That sugary goodness truly is an enlightening experience.
Not to say I’m prophetical, and that I know I’ll be getting said Egg on Easter.
But, I want one.