There is a fireworks store down the road from our condo in Myrtle Beach called "Big Daddy Boom Boom". I think that would make a great name for a swing band, and is the name I use for the old school God of the Yah-boobs. First a bit of background on our beloved home away from home in South Carolina. My wife and I were there for Christmas, and I noted that the only things open for business on Christmas day were: Pancake Joints, The Sex Toy & DVD shop, and Ammunition stores. I don't know about you friend, but nothing helps me celebrate our dear saviors birth like trying out a brand new pocket pussy while watching 'Super Shiny Butts Volume 12", eating a double stack with blueberry syrup, and firing my AK-47 at all the 'good parts' of the movie. Hoo wee buddy... hell yes... Bam Bam ! "Honey pass me some more lube and another pancake please..."(*) (**).
Anyway. here is my point: we live in country where at least a third of the people think we should base our common destiny on the 'information' they 'receive' from their imaginary invisible friend who seems to spend most of his time making lists and checking them twice. Years ago I read a book called "Your God Is Too Small" which talked about how most people have a childish conception of the divine that varies between a cosmic Santa ( he sees you when you're sleeping so get your hand out of your jammies!) and a Big Daddy Boom Boom who gets his rocks off smiting people. To believe in a 'God" who would punish folks who won't say the 'right' magic words, or get squiggly in the 'right' Jesus panties(***), or wear the 'right' special hat while facing in the 'right' direction..... to believe in such a 'God" is to reduce the almighty to the level of a cosmic Eichman: forever busy figuring train schedules for the damned. Any theology that says: "I'm in and you're out" by definition makes a Nazi out of the divine. A Big Daddy who spends eternity making people go 'boom' just because they fell in love with the wrong person(****), or had the poor taste not to be born in America.... isn't worthy of belief, let alone worship, or serving as the basis for a public agenda. The sad reality is that millions of Americans are in thrall to this ersatz version of 'Christianity' , are somehow convinced that God only speaks to Republicans.
It's easy enough to take shots at other peoples beliefs, so perhaps the time has come to put my money down and make my confession, Here is my credo:
I believe in a God who loves like a good father, who makes all that is seen and unseen.. the mother holding her sick child, the old man dying alone, the lonely and forgotten, all unseen, all dressed in 'rags of light', all his children gathered from east to west and age to age ... offering song in the morning, and blood on a Memphis balcony at evening time... I believe in a poor mans son who brings justice to workers, and eyesight to the blind. I believe in bread and wine like Melchizedek did, I believe in friends for the long road. and mercy in the small hours of the night...I believe in a Lord who is our brother and meets us in the cool of the garden at dawn.
And I believe that it will be a cold day at the beach when Jimmy Dobson, or any of those oily white boy George Wallace wanna-be's understand a word of the preceding paragraph. Perhaps one day they will, and then we can all go down to the river with sparklers and fireworks to sing a chorus of Boom Boom Hallelujah. I'm not holding my breath waiting for that day. Now if you'll excuse me.. I'm getting low on ammo and pancakes.
(*) Boom Boom: Why do all these porno movies have multiple volumes, i.e. " Big Swedish Titties Volume 16" Are there that many plot lines to explore? Does anybody ever say: " Yeah volumes 1-15 were crap, but Holy Jumpin' Jizz Rag Batman. volume 16 is the bomb!"
(**) Bang Bang: I used to hang out with a jeweler named Bobby who liked to lay around his big old house outside Detroit and snort smack while shooting a 357 into the ceiling. Take away lesson: never live upstairs from a junkie jeweler who packs heat.
(***) Wham Bam: Some Mormons wear 'special garments' as underwear, colloquially referred to as "Jesus Jamies". When I was in Salt Lake I heard the story of how some of the 'upstanding' men of the Church would wear their garments to certain types of 'entertainment venues', resulting in 'special stains".
(***) Poof!Poof!
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