A wise man once said, “discussing religion or politics in public is like getting your asshole fingered by your cousin”, it’s inexplicable, and eventually all involved parties are gonna feel uncomfortable. Actually, I just made that up right now.
But this isn’t about asshole fingering incest. This is about a train ride.
It so happened that on the 515pm to Penn, at the Merrick station an old friend of mine stepped into the car. He sat down by me and we began catching up, chugging down some train beers along the way. Eventually, somehow the conversation went from a news story, to religion, to me blurting out, “I can’t understand how ‘black’ people can stand to be a part of judeo-christian faith”. Bear in mind, my friend is ‘black’, so I left out hispanic, but the same opinion applies.
What I did not notice was the small group of black people sitting right to the side of us.
Right away, “Hey, now what is THAT supposed to mean??”
I didn’t flinch.
“It’s sad, that’s all” I replied.
My friend gave me the, ‘uhhh, dude?’ look, but I brushed it off. I was determined to make a point. My reply was not helping matters however.
“Oh, cause you white, it’s okay for you?” He was getting more belligerent by the second.
I calmly explained that is was not okay for me, or anyone for that matter. That led to a discussion involving the entire group. I won’t bother to transcribe it, the gist was, jesus loves my heathen cracker ass anyway. However, at one point the lone female of the group asked, “wait, so why’s it sad we christian?” I pounced like a kitten on a grasshopper.
“Well, let me see, you guys believe in aliens? like E.T. kinda aliens, not Pedro the gardener” I asked.
There was another brief discussion, which was followed by an overall affirmative answer.
“Alright, let’s say one day, these creatures arrive on Earth. and man, they are some badass mofos, like, they make those Independence Day aliens look like Mork and fucking Mindy. But get this, they’re smart. Not only that, they have a belief system of their own. So they come here, and pretty much start kicking our primitive asses back into caves. Let me ask you, would you fight them?”
They all stated that they absolutely would.
“Now bear in mind, fatality is almost certain. Their technology far outstrips ours. And those they don’t kill, turn into their slaves. Still gonna fight?”
Again, strong agreement.
“Now these fuckers worship the prophet Zarquash, who created the universe from a string of his boogers. But in order to assist in getting humans to cooperate, they incorporate some Judeo-Christian-Islamic holidays that have the most similarity to holy days for them. But you, being a Christian, and unwilling, fight them with all of your might, but you lose.”
“However, your body is preserved despite your injuries and time passes.”
At this point, most of the passengers seated nearby in the car had moved closer, I was weaving a hell of a yarn.
“So a few hundred years later, when the war is over, and humans have adjusted somewhat to living under the heel of these alien invaders, you are revived. The first thing you notice is that humans outnumber the invaders 10 to 1, and the second thing you notice, is enslaved humans humming hymns to Zarquash, who will set them free, and comfort them. How would you react to that?”
Not very well was the universal sentiment.
“Every belief, every cultural treasure, everything that made humans what they are, gone. Replaced or altered irrevocably by invader beliefs and culture. Nightmare, right?”
“Now think about your great-great-great grandfathers, who perhaps were conquered and taken, and maybe killed by invading Europeans. Were there some way to wake one of these men up, and he were walked into a Baptist church down south, and he saw singing, and dancing, and prayer to jesus, how do you think that would make him feel?”
A slow understanding dawned upon them, however, it did not last long. It is as if this bit of logic crashed against the wall of ignorance in their minds.
“Yes but Jesus loves everybody….The Lord said….The bible says…etc…etc…”
I noticed I was almost at Jamaica, where my transfer awaited. So I asked one last question before the train ground to a halt.
“But what about what the great prophet Zarquash says?”
The girl replied, “Who care what Zarquash said, Zarquash is made up.”
With that, I walked out with my friend, leaving them to shore up any damage sense may have caused.