If that isn't enough to make me gnash my pearlies, eight years of olive oil and cat hair have finally choked my kitchen sink drain into paralysis, leaving a stinking pool of fetid water undrained. If my kitchen drain was my lungs, I'd be purple and dead on the floor.
Let me explain how I came to this realization. Yesterday I was paging through some random blogs (I am beginning to suspect they aren't actually random, Google, you scamp), I saw over and over the cutest-on-the-block blogs presented by proud wives and mothers (never husbands and fathers). These smiling women praised their husbands, bragged about their children, (posting umpteen photos of the insides of their homes—have they no care for home invaders and burglars?), professed undying devotion to their marriages, and thanked God for their gloriously contented lives.
Herein lies my beef, leading to the provocative and as yet unsubstantiated claim in my post title. I am positive that if I were to corner all of these women and ask them about their religious beliefs, they would to a woman say they were devout Republican Christians and proud of it. Moreover, if I were to tell them I am not, they would no doubt look at me in horrified pity and ask how could this be? I would have to shake my head in resignation. They have something I lack. Somehow they have the enviable ability to choose something and believe in it. They have commitment, to their relationships, to their families, to their religions, to their beliefs.
I can always tell when I am angry. My writing tone gets really snarky. (I love that word, snarky. I'm sure it is out of fashion to use it, sort of like bling, cool, and you go, girl, but I don't care.) Sometimes I don't know I am angry until I actually read what I've written.
Back to my rant. I missed out on the commitment gene, it appears. I don't know how else to explain it. There is something wrong with me. (Damn, my Internet connection is... no wait, now it's back on. Jeez.) This lack of commitment is what drives me to say things like organized religions are marketing machines run by hucksters seeking market share. If I had been raised a good Christian, or Buddhist, or Mormon, or whatever... no, I don't think it would make any difference. I would still say it. I just don't have the commitment gene.
I think organized religions are marketing machines bent on increasing market share in a bid for world domination. It seems obvious to me. They use every marketing tool in the book, plus the good old-fashioned tried-and-true you-are-going-to-hell messages to persuade customers to commit to their brand. Most people seem to be looking for some sparkling edifice to hide behind, some altar to kneel before, some set of rules to follow, so they can finally feel safe. Commitment is no problem for them. Just offer them the best deal and they will sign up for life. Like those happy blogger gals.
Not me. If I believed in hell, which I don't, I'd say to hell with all you religious believers. Except, I already know I'm in the handbasket, heading toward hell on earth (AKA increasing hatred and violence, destruction of the ecosystem, and unbridled self-centered obsession). Maybe those blogger moms don't realize it yet, but they are in here with me. Here we go, wheeeee.
