Bible Bashing Bergie Buddhas

I sometimes feel sorry for God.

When I’m having lunch at a Long Street restaurant and a guy carrying a loudhailer and a Bible walks down the road shouting about how “filthy with sin” we all are, I think two things.

1. Get a job.
2. If I was God would I want this crazy person as a representative?

If a bloke in a moth-eaten sports jacket, with greasy hair and yellow teeth, tried to sell you timeshare, you’d surely think it was some kind of a scam.

Ditto for the people on the train waving the Good Book, railing against the Devil, covering the captive and unimpressed audience in spittle. All I can say is thank God for the iPod.

The same way the everyday Muslim must hate the fundamentalist fuckers strapping crackers to their chest and blowing up in shopping malls, the quiet Christian surely feels foolish when witnessing these mental misfits with their streetside sermons.

Could you be blamed for getting to the Pearly Gates and, upon realisation that Atheism wasn’t the best choice, telling the Big Man it was because of the bad press he got from paedophile priests and bonkers bergies?

I’m sure He’s a reasonable dude. I’m sure He’d have a chuckle and understand.

I’d like to think He’d rather tally up all the good stuff against the mean shit you’ve done and judge you on that.

I once thought that agnostics were the worst kind of fence-sitters, even though I was one. I mean, I have a personal belief based on personal experience – that evolves the older I get – but I’m well aware that this belief is partly there to make me feel better.

And if it makes you feel better then isn’t it a good thing?

As long as you don’t force it up anyone’s arse or kill those who don’t agree with you, then what does it really matter if you believe in a magic Tellytubby riding a steamroller who’ll have you shovelling horse manure for eternity unless you grow a mullet?

But they’d have me locked up if I went around preaching about that, so I’ll just keep my views to myself.