Die Already.

So the Pope is back in the hospital. The Pope represents the last major symbol of a religion I was surrounded by in my youth. He was a figure that was larger than life, spectacular and Godly. Now he just seems like a feeble old man and I'm aching to get him out of here. Take some of my remaining groundless guilt with you my friend. I hope you feel peace as you take your last Pope-mobile trip up to meet the Big Guy. Maybe that bullet-proof material will make the atmosphere changes more bearable. Let's hope you get in buddy. Think maybe God is a little pissed about this whole "Abortion = Holocaust" thing? Suppose the Catholics got it wrong, and you’ve been propagating this shit as your life’s purpose…? Risky man. Risky. I respect risk-takers though, oh Pontiff, so I hope it works out for you. It’s just, you know, I realize you’re old and practically walking around dead already, but you sure have been sick a lot in the face of publishing your new book… Just sayin…

Everyone on my father's side of the family is Catholic. They live in a really small Midwestern town, go to church regularly, shop at Wal-Mart and seemingly believe that wasting a few hours a week at a mass earns them a license to not care about what happens in the rest of the world. Major life events always involved the church and loony Father Ted. If you needed to be born, baptized, confessing, married or dead - Father Ted was your man. In hindsight of the molestation controversies, I wonder if he was anyone else’s man… He always was a little off, but the whole parish just assumed he was an alcoholic.

After my father's body was blessed by Father Ted and buried when I was 13, I largely abandoned religion. I will never forget the day I sat on the edge of the ocean and begged God to strike me down at that very instant. I screamed that I would rather have a moment of belief and knowledge of something bigger, than to live a long life of skepticism and lack of faith. Nothing happened. Nothing at all. I mean, when you challenge God to strike you down, he really should. At least every once in awhile, in a well-publicized way, just for good, keep-em-in-line measure. Didn’t he used to show up all the time? Man, what were the people doing that century that made them so worthy of God visits…? Anyhow, I stood up and walked away, feeling a lightness quite unlike any I had known prior. When I retell this story to others, the response is always “Of course God wouldn’t strike you down… faith and blah blah blah.” The point was that I had finally gathered the courage to confront God, and could tell him to take his non-existence to some other planet and ruin their ability to have a reasonable, peaceful society.

Since then, the freedom from the schizophrenic notion of an overseeing wrathful God has been great. My victimless sins are some of the best times of my life. But, at times, I still randomly feel guilty about stuff I am in no way responsible for, like running over the tail of an already dead road-kill squirrel. I always tell myself "come on, he's already dead," but no avail. Hi - My name is Lex, and I'm a Recovering Catholic. Like Hunter Thompson (r.i.p.) had The Fear, I suffer from The Guilt. So, die already, Pope, and take it all with you.