Politics and religion make strange bedfellows. Reading or hearing that worn-out saying makes me always think of an unlikely pair in the sack.
Not wanting to date myself too badly, I’ll go as far back to picturing Margaret Thatcher between the sheets with Jim Bakker, or Mother Teresa with Ronald Reagan, Bill Clinton and sopranos of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, Pope Francis and Angela Merkel; and lately, the Dalai Lama with Nancy Pelosi. Shame on me! It’s blasphemy, yet that’s my twisted sense of humor.
Want to enrage the most people at once? Post something on Social Media or the Internet, be it positive or negative about a popular or controversial politician, and watch their minions come out of the woodwork to make a response to the contrary.
Read any article or posting on the Net that allows general comments. One doesn’t even have to be about anything political to have these responding fanatics steer the conversation vitriolically to politics and their leanings left or right.
A definition of the word “politic,” according to Merriam-Webster, is: shrewdly tactful. Bwwwaaaaahahahaha! Oh, pardon me for that outburst. Looking at today’s political landscape, I’d say the term’s antonyms apply: gauche, impolitic, tactless, undiplomatic, untactful, et cetera; but enough about that. Too much of it is spewed on a daily basis.
So, for the remainder of this week’s tirade, I decided to pick on religion instead. Oh, boy, how many readers am I going to offend this time? I’ll never know, however. No one ever leaves comments at the bottom of my diatribes anyway, except on very rare occasions.
Don’t panic yet. It’s just an old joke:
Upon feeling it important to own an equally fundamental, Christian pet, a religiously pious, married couple went shopping at a kennel that specialized in this particular breed. They found a dog they liked quite a lot.
When the husband asked for it to fetch the Bible, the canine did it in a flash. The wife instructed the pooch to look up Psalm 23, whereupon the German shepherd complied just as quickly, using his dexterous paws. The pair were totally impressed, purchased the animal, and returned home (piously, of course).
That night the couple had company over. Being so proud of the new,
fundamentalist dog and his major skills, Ralph, the husband, called the pet and showed off a little, having Solomon open up the Bible to various scriptures. The friends were enthralled, and asked whether the animal was able to do any of the usual dog tricks as well.
This stopped the couple cold, as they hadn’t thought about ‘normal’ tricks. “Well, let’s try this out,” Ethyl the wife said. “Heel!”
Quick as a wink, Solomon jumped up, put his paw on the Ethyl’s forehead, closed his eyes in concentration, and bowed his head. Ralph said, “Amen.”
Not quite to my 500-word quota, allow me to fill the space with one more old joke. Now you can panic:
A guy arrives at the Pearly Gates, waiting to be admitted. St. Peter is reading through the Big Book to see if the fellow’s name is written in it. After several minutes, St. Peter closes the tome, furrows his brow, and says, “I’m sorry, but I don’t see your name written in here.”
“How current is your copy?” the new arrival said.
“I get a download every ten minutes. Why do you inquire?”
“I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I was always the agnostic type. It wasn’t until my death was imminent that I cried out to God, so my name probably hasn’t arrived to your copy yet.”
“I’m glad to hear that, but while we’re waiting for the update to come through, can tell me about a really good deed that you did in your life?”
The man thinks for a moment and says:
Hmm, well there was this one time when I was driving down a road and saw a group of motorcycle-gang members harassing a poor girl. I slowed down and sure enough, there they were, about 20 of them, abusing this frantic young woman.
Infuriated, I got out my car, grabbed a tire iron out of my trunk, and walked up to the leader of the gang. He was a huge guy: 6’4″, 260 pounds, with a studded-leather jacket and a chain running from his nose to his ears.
As I walked up to the big kahuna, the rest of his gang formed a circle around me, telling me to get lost or I’d be next.
So I ripped the leader’s chain out of his face and smashed him over the head with the tire iron. Then I turned around and yelled to the rest of them, ‘Leave this poor, innocent girl alone. You’re all a bunch of sick, deranged animals. Go home before I really teach you a lesson in pain!’
St. Peter, duly impressed, said, “Wow! When did this happen?”
“Oh, about three minutes ago.” (Insert rim-shot)
Well, that wraps up tonight’s bit of nonsense and then some. Hope you took it in the spirit of my harmless, sick humor. Thanks for stopping by and for your continued support.