1,000 Reasons I'm Going To Hell is a blog series that explores my life as a non-believer in a believer's world. I'll share stories of everyday interactions with eternal consequences. Whether it's making my mom cry, shocking an unsuspecting nun or staring down a power-hungry pastor, I'll share all my flawed moments for your judgment. You can laugh with me, set me straight or put me on your prayer list. Just, please, don't tell God where to find me.
Reason #14: That "no other gods" thing.
One of the reasons I write this blog is to remind myself, in my own twisted way, that I'm not actually a bad guy. Let's face it, creatives are not known for their self-confidence, and I live in a world that consistently tells me I'm evil. (Though, to be fair, you probably do, too. To say the least, the world is a very weird place right now.)
I was most recently reminded of what the supposed "good guys" think of me, when I was reading an article about an evangelical pastor that supports Donald Trump. Now, I'm not going to go all political on you here. There are many outlets for that, and I don't want this to be one of them. But, suffice to say, I already knew that my desire for every American to have equal access to healthcare makes me a socialist. Which, in turn, makes me a threat to all that is good in America. I already knew all that.
What I didn't know, and the good pastor had to tell me, was that I worship the pagan god Moloch. (To be fair, he said, I "might" worship Moloch.) Still, that was a new one. Here I thought I didn't believe in gods.
It got me thinking. Are there other gods that I worship?
I could wait for the good pastor to let me know, but, surely I should be able to identify my own deities.
Looking around my house, it became clear pretty quickly. Yes, I have gods.
The hockey gods granted me a Stanley Cup win last year. I prayed hard for that one. (The golf gods, despite copious amounts of attention from me, are largely silent.)
But, one god stands above the rest: the creator of the donut. Perfect in all its forms, the donut is my strongest evidence of a higher power. (Bacon is a close second. Melted cheese is third.) Whatever god created the donut (I'll call her Dunkin') deserves the highest levels of praise.
There's definitely an invisible force at play every time I walk through the baked goods section at the grocery store. Now I know, it's Dunkin', calling me to prayer. Adam gave a rib to get Eve. I'd give a lung for a long john. Just walking past the donut case puts me on a new spiritual plain.
Thankfully, I'm not alone in my service to Dunkin'. Every Sunday, masses of believers swarm their place of worship and order up dozens of praise-inducing chunks of fried holy food.
So, all hail Dunkin', creator of the cake donut! And, move over Moloch, I hardly knew ye'.
Reason #14: That "no other gods" thing.
One of the reasons I write this blog is to remind myself, in my own twisted way, that I'm not actually a bad guy. Let's face it, creatives are not known for their self-confidence, and I live in a world that consistently tells me I'm evil. (Though, to be fair, you probably do, too. To say the least, the world is a very weird place right now.)
I was most recently reminded of what the supposed "good guys" think of me, when I was reading an article about an evangelical pastor that supports Donald Trump. Now, I'm not going to go all political on you here. There are many outlets for that, and I don't want this to be one of them. But, suffice to say, I already knew that my desire for every American to have equal access to healthcare makes me a socialist. Which, in turn, makes me a threat to all that is good in America. I already knew all that.
What I didn't know, and the good pastor had to tell me, was that I worship the pagan god Moloch. (To be fair, he said, I "might" worship Moloch.) Still, that was a new one. Here I thought I didn't believe in gods.
It got me thinking. Are there other gods that I worship?
I could wait for the good pastor to let me know, but, surely I should be able to identify my own deities.
Looking around my house, it became clear pretty quickly. Yes, I have gods.
The hockey gods granted me a Stanley Cup win last year. I prayed hard for that one. (The golf gods, despite copious amounts of attention from me, are largely silent.)
But, one god stands above the rest: the creator of the donut. Perfect in all its forms, the donut is my strongest evidence of a higher power. (Bacon is a close second. Melted cheese is third.) Whatever god created the donut (I'll call her Dunkin') deserves the highest levels of praise.
There's definitely an invisible force at play every time I walk through the baked goods section at the grocery store. Now I know, it's Dunkin', calling me to prayer. Adam gave a rib to get Eve. I'd give a lung for a long john. Just walking past the donut case puts me on a new spiritual plain.
Thankfully, I'm not alone in my service to Dunkin'. Every Sunday, masses of believers swarm their place of worship and order up dozens of praise-inducing chunks of fried holy food.
So, all hail Dunkin', creator of the cake donut! And, move over Moloch, I hardly knew ye'.
RSS Feed