I won’t lie to you. Last Christmas Eve, I set out on a mission to break up a happy couple for my own selfish reasons. Took me until Valentine’s Day, but goshdarnit! I succeeded. (Only to then break up with the guy in less than two weeks and secure my place in hell. Bygones). So it seemed fitting to be sitting at midnight mass in jeans this year trying to make my mom happy, instead of in an overpriced champagne bar in clothes I couldn’t afford trying to impress some guy.
While I should probably have been praying for the redemption of my damned soul (if it’s not too late), I instead resorted to other means of amusing myself, like listening to my adorable, deaf grandpa sing three beats ahead of everyone else in the church. Or actually listening to the story of Adam and Eve and coming up with ways to highlight its logical constraints (so, wait. God lied to Adam and Eve and the serpent told the truth, yet God’s the good guy… If you say so!). Or watching the colony of moths that infested our church, seemingly drawn to the flame of the Christ Candle and swooping dangerously low to the Sacraments. By the way, if drinking “the blood of Jesus” is a religious celebration of his life, is it too much to ask that the next Messiah hail from eastern Tennessee and shots of Jack Daniels replace the watered-down red wine? I’d convert.
While these delightful distractions took my mind off the birth of the sweet 8 lb 6 oz baby Jesus for a short while, mainly I just sat and felt simultaneously pissed at and sorry for poor Mary. I don’t think you can be a woman without thinking one of two things:
1) That [insert swear word that even my athiest outlook on life won't allow me to write about the blessed "virgin"] took the best excuse ever for getting knocked up and now no one can ever use it again without being smoked out of a hole in Waco.
2) Let’s say she really was a virgin and the angel appeared to her and was all, “Hey, Mary. You’re knocked up with God’s baby. Science, schmience! Good luck explaining that one to the fiance!” I mean, really? How would that conversation have gone? “Hey, Joseph. Listen, I know I haven’t really been putting out even though we are betrothed, but you’re just not gonna believe what happened! You’re gonna be the stepdad to the son of God! Pretty special, eh? And as soon as I pop this baby out, lose my baby weight and my punani bounces back to its normal shape and size, I swear we’ll get it on like two high-schoolers on prom night!” While you gotta respect the Bible for being the best-selling book of all time (by the way, does anyone else wonder where those profits go? Same for the 9/11 Commission), I do feel like it’s missing some vital information that the curious and blasphemous feel would really flesh out the story of Jesus. Do you think King James would mind if we added a couple books to his version of the Bible?
The word of Jamie. Praise be to sin.
3 Comments
December 26, 2008 at 2:00 am
I love you, Jamie. lol
December 26, 2008 at 6:46 pm
Saddlebitch Ranch Church?
December 27, 2008 at 12:40 am
Jamie,
Well, I never……….Then you come home for Christmas (not a word from you or your Mom) and I send you a check, in Maggie’s card, since I thought you were still in China. Well it is the thought (and check) that counts.
Well enjoy your time home and maybe you will continue to write your blog since it appears that you are back to your old-self…….musing the ‘ways of the world’, sarchastic but with charm!
Love you,
Mart