En route to the butt-headedly re-named San Diego Zoo’s Safari Park (know to every human in San Diego as the Wild Animal Park), I almost slammed on the breaks, nearly driving my family off of State Route 78 into a gully, Dukes-of-Hazard-style.
With a furtive glance to my right, my lilting career ambitions had been answered! There, in bright and shining letters were the magic words, which read: Church For Sale.
Oh heavens to Mergatroyd, how does something that fantastic just fall into my lap? How does something so wonderful and forehead-slappingly resplendent just appear on the side of the road?
Well, as it turns out, I don’t really care which cosmic fate brought that heaping house of Jehovah my way, but only that I do intend on finally starting my own religion.
I thought, as any prudent religious fanatic — er, leader — is wont to do, is to have a pledge drive. A welcoming to the community as they say. This is known in most circles as mortgaging their future for the salvation of your eternal soul.
You know — a quid pro quo. This $800,000 facility isn’t going to buy itself. Since it’s a house of God, I can only assume he’s trying to short sell it, so I might be able to haggle a bit and get a bit of a deal from the bearded One. But then again, most of his current real estate holdings tend to gravitate towards rocky, sandy and war torn, so in this case, I’m not going to negotiate quite as aggressively as I should.
Wow, OK. Here I am. Jim Jones, David Koresh — Marshall Applewhite. Yikes, that is a frighteningly spooky crew of cult — er, religious — leaders, especially that Heaven’s Gate goon with his purple Nike’s. With this year’s Del Mar Fair (I’m not calling it the San Diego Fair — never will. Deal with it), providing deep fried Kool-Aid, I think that there might be an eerie coincidence.
So, I might as well start telling people what to do, and how to live their lives according to how I see fit. Here are a few of the more notable commandments with my updated amendments:
1. The original says something about Him being the big cheese, Egypt and bondage. Kinky. Revised: I like cheese, you should walk like an Egyptian daily, and I’ll pass on the bondage thing. Breathing through a zippered mouth hole just screams unsanitary.
2. Something about being jealous, and hating to look at any carved images of Himself. Even under water. No pruney Gods. Revised: Sure, I don’t care. Take pictures, carve stuff and dip it in Ranch dressing for all I care.
3. Don’t use His name in vain. But isn’t capitalizing the word “him” the epitome of vanity? Revised: Curse — at all times and whenever you’d like. I rather enjoy salty language.
4. Don’t work on Sundays — simple, silly and to the point. Revised: I still don’t understand why an all-powerful deity has to rest. Kinda lessens his “all-powerful” moniker a bit if he needs a catnap on Sundays.
6. Don’t kill people. Revised: Unless of course you mean that eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth thing. Vengeance is OK, wanton murder is a no-no. This just means that killing is crappy unless the courts say it’s OK to juice him.
For me, the last three kind of all link together. Don’t lie, talk crap about your neighbor, or wish you had all his stuff. Including his ox or donkey.
But those three things keep California’s blood moving! How can you take all that away from us? Haven’t you seen reality TV? Does Jeebus need a new cable package?
Here’s my own addition. Use common sense. How’s that for old school? No fire or brimstone, just use your head.
Anyway, feel free to send all those overflowing donations to The Coast News, and I’ll bring the bomb sniffing dogs and make the interns open the ticking boxes.
We have interns, right?
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