When Will They. . .

. . .understand that I am not a joiner?

I hope you all believe in something higher than yourself. I don’t care if it’s a gawd or a tree or a six foot French-Canadian mallard named Griff who lives under your bed.

But, please, don’t ask me to join in with your flock.

It’s not that I may not get a kick out of attending it’s just that I barely have time enough to fit in my higher power (drinking). But, some people never learn.

This gentleperson is allowing me unfettered access to the beauty and light that is their chosen spiritual focus. Which ends up annoying me.

Not that I won’t give them the time of day but I’m not much of a joiner (even though Griff sounds like a hell of a trip) of many things organized.

Again, I don’t snipe at them right away. It takes a few passes before I hit the fed up button and eject all illusions of politeness.

“So this Jesus guy,” I begin my end game. “He was Jewish, right?”


“And he was a carpenter, right?”


“So what synagogue did he attend? Shalom Depot?”

People should learn to leave after two declines. They really should.

If only so there would be fewer people in the world bugging their gawd with all that praying for me. No wonder so much in the world is fucked up. He’s spending a huge chunk of his time talking calls about me.


5 responses to “When Will They. . .

  1. I thought French Canadians lived under rocks? Oh wait…they just hide behind them…my fault.

  2. I really like Shalom Depot. And I hate when certain holier than thou born-again people say they’re praying for me. I want to say, “Hey it’s your hell, you burn in it and leave me alone.”

  3. Yeah, shalom depot! HFC that’s funny!

    It was the JWs coming to our door in their 3 piece suits in high summer with like-suited child-slaves in the back seat of their station wagon that finally pushed my fed-up button some years back. Basically I told them Satan was my BFF and they’d better get the HELL out of my dooryard. Pretty much as Wendy says …

    But then, I’ve always had this fantasy about mallards. Something about their enormous green heads … and one does need something, or someone, higher than oneself, after all, doesn’t one? If one is not able to get high enough on one’s own …

  4. “I’ve always had this fantasy about mallards”

    It is just Mallard Fillmore’s subliminal encroachment on your will.

  5. One time when I worked at home I used to write with a lizard on my shoulder. He’d sit there all day and I’d forget about him.

    The doorbell rang and the JW’s were there. They didn’t even get ten seconds into their speech when they excused themselves. At first I didn’t know why.

    Ah, live lizard pin. I recommend it to everyone.

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