Baptized In The Funk

Okay:

There are several reasons why religious people disturb me. No disrespect to any deity or divine prophet, but it's just all so goddamn creepy. This may surprise you, but I was raised Pentecostal and I went to Catholic school for a year. That means I know more about the Bible than the average person. More than I want to know, actually.

Perhaps I should clarify. It's religious people, not religion, to which I have an aversion. And not all religious people, mind you. My homeboy Joe, for example, is a very religious man but you wouldn't know unless you asked him. But those Bible-thumpers who look down their noses at the unsaved masses really burn my butter. My family is like this.

I went to church this past weekend to see my family and hang out with my father. Some poor kid volunteered to get baptised so they started filling up "the pool".

This pool of theirs is a real piece of work. I wouldn't clean my murder weapons in that thing. It looks like a pit for waterboarding suspected communists and terrorists. This poor kid has volunteered to go down there and let someone submerge him in two feet of ice-cold water run in through a long black hose connected to the outdoor spout.

But before he can do so, one of my cousins has to go get one of those green goldfish scoopers to wrangle up the large commune of mosquitoes and other tiny insects flying and swimming around in there. See what I mean? Who knows what kind of infection this kid could get? He might as swell slam his face into a public toilet.

He comes out of the back dressed in the rags they keep in stock for these impromptu baptisms. Another one of my cousins, who is one of the junior deacons, comes out behind him with those big rubber swamp pants on. He looks like he's about to catch some marlin, not perform a Christian rite of passage. But he's got the right idea. I wouldn't go down into that pit with anything less than an inch of rubber separating me from what amounts to a pitridish for growing malaria.

My cousin says the special baptism words and dunks this poor kid backwards into the pool of death. Only the kid is at least six feet tall, so my cousin accidentally drops him! He comes back up, coughing and spitting up toilet water. I almost fell off the pew.

The kid goes into the back and changes into his regular clothes. When he returns he is invited to say some words to the congregation. He claims that he already feels different. And I think to myself, "That's just the West Nile kicking in."

I am also struck with an epiphany of sorts. My family is a cult. These people really believe that this is how you get into "heaven". They believe that God's special orders are for you to repent for your sins, accept Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior and then submerge yourself in water. If you don't do this, you go to hell when you die. Really.

Needless to say, I'll be taking my chances "in the world" and the only time I'm sticking my head underwater is if there is plenty of chlorine and a lifeguard present.

He's handed his baptism certificate and then it's off to Red Lobster for an intellectually stimulating conversation about the abomination of homosexuality and the unrelenting shittiness of the Redskins, over cheese bread and fried scallops.

Thanks for reading.

Tip of the day: Apparently, you should never keep a pair of underwear longer than a year. Over a significant period of time urine and fecal matter build up in the seat and cannot be washed out.

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