Holy Crap...and Other Religious Artifacts

I have been contemplating the creation of my own religion. I believe that I would center it around irony (which, despite popular belief, is not the Medieval process of making iron) and would be comprised of all the necessary components like guilt, shame, and disillusionment. Now all I need is a catchy name…

The name of a religion is usually much more important than the actual doctrine. Gone are the days when a religion’s name actually indicated what the religion involved: Christianity followed the teachings of Jesus Christ, Buddhism followed the teachings of Siddhartha “Buddha” Gautama, and Confucianism followed the teachings of K'ung-fu-tzu (Confucius). Now the names of “Christian”churches are picked because of their appeal to the masses using length to signify their importance. Here are some of the names of churches that I have seen lately and what their name might signify if we were going by the old system.

Church of the Living God (we worship a zombie)

Church of the True Living God of Holiness (those other zombies are fakes)

Church of God of Prophecy (we know the future)

Open Doors Community Church (we take the people no one else wants)

Community Church of the Living God of Prophecy (our zombie tells the future)

Church of the God of Rocks and Plants and Birds and Junk and Stuff (just covering all the bases)

McLafferty’s Pub (Irish Catholic)

Starting a religion is not as hard as it used to be. Once upon a time someone had to have ideas that other people thought were good, thus creating a following. Now to start a religion you just take an idea that already exists (Christianity seems the most malleable) and change small things to suit your needs (see: Calvinism, Methodism, Baptism, Episcopalians, Lutherans, and Mormons). It seems like starting a religion is much like starting a band these days. Here are the steps that have to be followed for both:

1) You begin with one person who wants to be really important and popular (religious leader/band leader).

2) You take already popular idea (religion/music style) and change one small aspect (“We’re like Methodists, except we ‘speak in tongues’”/“We sound like every other emo band, except we wear these matching ties with no shirt”).

3) You get a name (Church of Risen Dead Guy/Sunday Night Drinking Party)

4) You get some kind of icon or relic to symbolize the religion/band (guy with a halo eating a brain/black eyeliner, black nail polish, no musical talent).

5) You gather a following by giving people what they think they want (“We know people are different and love and accept you even if you rape koalas”/“We sing about teen angst and how parents don’t understand how hard life is at the age of 14”).

One of the popular trends is Individualized Religions. These religions do not rely on a heavy amount of followers for validation (the congregation usually consists of one person), but still provides the comfort of “rightness” that having a religion brings. A good example of Individual Religion is my friend John. He started his own religion which helps him to deal with slings and arrows of daily life. The religion is called Johnsbonedism (John’s-boned-ism). Here’s how he explained it to me…

Instead of the normal chants like The Lord’s Prayer, Johnsbonedism chants all center around the fact that no matter what happens…John is boned. Another thing that sets his religion apart is the constant proof and disproof of God’s existence.

Example 1

John: I can prove that there is no God.

Me: How?

John: If God exists, then a beautiful woman will walk through the door any minute and marry me.

We both look in the direction of the door…

Five minutes pass…

John: There is no God.

Example 2

John: If there’s a God then this traffic light will change soon.

Traffic light changes

John: Sometimes you get lucky Yahweh.

It’s a give and take system.

The reason that I have searched the possibilities of a starting a religion is because yesterday I received a sign from a higher power. Yesterday was one of the worst days that I have had yet in my entire working experience. Nothing went right yesterday while I was at work. First, I woke up late and had to rush to work. Next, I had a guy yell at me and call me a stuck-up prick because I wouldn’t shake his hand due to the fact that I watched him emerge from the bathroom zipping up his fly and I knew that he had not washed his hands. The next has to be told delicately so that the full impact on my day can be appreciated.

A man weighing in at about four hundred pounds walks into my cubicle and plops down on the chair opposite me like a whale sitting down to afternoon tea. He is carrying a very large mug of, what I assume is, coffee and a folder with papers threatening to throw themselves in every direction. He is out of breath from the thirty-two steps it took to get to my office from the lobby and is now sitting across from me with a sound coming from his throat like someone is strangling a baby seal. I wait for him to either gather his senses or pass out. Finally he gives me his paper and I begin to type, keeping my eyes on the computer screen so that I won’t have to look at the milky whiteness of his belly that is hanging out of his Van Halen t-shirt. As I am pretending to type something important I hear a bubbling sound from his stomach like he swallowed a live duck with scuba gear on. I pretend not to notice as it continues because it happens to all of us now and then and I didn't want him to be embarrassed. Then I hear a tiny squeak from his direction that lasts for a couple of seconds, like he is trying to hold the air in a balloon by stretching it. This, I also pretend I didn’t hear so that he might be able to save some dignity. Then, I hear the scuba duck and the balloon in unison and the smell of a thousand dead raccoons hits me. I can’t ignore this fart, due in part to my now watering eyes and the look of anguish that is on my face, and I turn to him. He has a look of surprise and embarrassment on his face which I quickly realize is not from a mere fart. The only words that were exchanged since he had been in the office were now traded.

Bio-Toxic Waste Factory: I have to go.

Me: I understand.

He had shit his pants right there in my office.

The bad thing was that this coffee-fueled sludge had leaked just enough out of his massive plumber’s crack to stain the chair in my office. Even after he had gone the smell of dead animal carcasses and, for some odd reason, bananas remained behind in my office. I removed the chair to the loading dock behind our building and grabbed an identical chair and a can of Lysol from our store room and tried to eradicate his lingering presence from my cubicle.

What really got me thinking about starting my own religion was being accosted by Mormons in the parking lot on my way to the mailbox later that day. They followed me all the way from the front door to the street asking me about whether they could come over to my house and talk to me about Joseph Smith. I politely yelled at the them that I had read the Book of Mormon and asked them if they would enjoy me coming to their house to talk to them about Cthulhu. After this incident I went out to the loading dock to calm my nerves and smoke a cigarette.

Across the loading dock the Crap Chair stared at me through a haze of smoke. As I started walking across the dock toward it the sun came out of the clouds and shot through a hole in the tin roof to illuminate the chair in an ethereal light.

That’s when it hit me (the smell and an idea). What if Mr. Load in My Pants had really been the second incarnation of Jesus? That would mean that the black streak now eating away the fabric of the chair was really “holy crap.” The irony was astounding. This could be my icon…my religious symbol. Now all I have to do is come up with a name for my religion and I am a step closer to getting federal tax credits. I’m leaning toward Christ’s Community Church of the Living God of Prophecy, Rocks, Plants, and Stinky Chairs. Not long enough? I’ll work on it.

And, truth be told, what better symbol for a new religion than a load of crap?