Sunday, December 26, 2010

The day a helpful bird pooped on my head

On my graphics blog, this post is accompanied by a photo of me as a child in a silly white communion outfit. You can see it here.

This photo shows me on the day of my "first Holy Communion". Bad day. I forgot to avoid breakfast, told a nun and then she wouldn't let me go up to get my magic wafer. I had to sit there in this foolish outfit, the only child left in the pews as the others went up. For all the world, I looked like a sinner unworthy of this "sacrament."

Don't you think the nun could have said to a seven year old child, "Well, we don't want to ruin this day for you, so it's okay but just this one time. Next time, don't eat." But as we know, the Catholic church doesn't act kindly toward children. We've had ample evidence of this fact in recent years. So nice try, church. Perhaps that event colored my whole perception of religion. If so, I truly thank you.

A short time later I was on my way to church one sunny Sunday morning when a bird pooped on my head. I couldn't believe it. I was on my way to church! Didn't the bird know this? Wasn't this a perfect universe?

The full force of cognitive dissonance descended upon me that morning. I immediately knew what this meant: there is no god. After all, He would never let a thing like this happen. I went home, ripped off my clothes and took a shower -- and with that shower washed both religion and poop away forever. I never went to church again.

And I became a nightmare for the teachers in my Catholic elementary school. When the brother (it was always a brother in our sex-segregated classes) asked what Jesus said to the apostles three days after he died, I answered, "Nothing. People don't talk after they're dead."

My parents forced me to go to Catholic schools so this continued into high school. I went to a braindead Catholic school and it was one of the worst, most homophobic experiences of my life. My only joy at school was disrupting any and all religious discussions in class. The religion teachers finally became frightened to call on me, which provided a lovely armor but cut down on my opportunities to knife religion in front of believers. Darn!

Finally, they took me out of religion class and let me talk to a cool brother instead. We even smoked during religion period. See? Blasphemy pays off. He was a great guy and I heard he left the brotherhood in later life. Good for him! There ain't no god, people. There just ain't. 

If you have a fun end-of-religious-innocence story, tell us about it in the comments. G'wan.