Showing posts with label Religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Religion. Show all posts

Sunday, March 9, 2014

The Lemonade Stand

Okay, normally I avoid politics because I don't like the divisive effect that the issue has, but a recent law pushed a button because of all the assumptions it made. Here's your warning sign. This is not safe for work, church, or any other circumstances where where it could get you into trouble, and it is graphic as hell. If you go past this point, I am not responsible for hurt feelings. We're all adults here.

A man and some of his friends open a lemonade stand on a street corner downtown. They sell cups of lemonade and soft drinks for fifty cents. They do a brisk business, until a certain law goes into effect.
That morning, a lady walks up. “Let me have one cup of lemonade.”
“Um, are you gay?”
“What?”
“Are you gay?”
She looks at him, shocked, as if he had just asked her if she was gay.
“Are you serious? No! I am not gay!”
“Okay, sorry. I can't serve you. Let me find someone who can. Rick, do you have a problem with straights?”
“Not as long as they're kinky.”
The first man turns back to the woman. “He wants to know if you're into BDSM. You know, spanking, dominance, stuff like that.”
The second man leans over to say, “Dom or sub, doesn't matter. I don't even care if you switch. I believe in equal opportunity.”
She screams, “I don't do any of that!”
The first man, the owner, holds up his hand. “Ma'am, I need you to lower your voice. I'm not going to ask any of my employees to serve someone if it would violate what they believe in. If you can't accept that, you can take your business elsewhere.”
“My boss wants a cup of lemonade, from this stand! Do you have any idea of the hell I'll catch if I come back without it?”
“No, but it sounds like he's using this errand to find out something that you'd be able to sue the hell out of him if he asked for himself. I'll bet he plans some way of getting you to tell him which one of us sells it to you.”
They start going down the line, asking all the employees if they're willing to sell the woman a cup of lemonade.
The woman who runs the register says, “I'll serve you if you're polyamorous, but only poly. I don't agree with swinging. Oh, and don't even ask me to serve you if you cheat, ever.”
The boy who stocks the water and ice says, “Ma'am, I'll be happy to serve you, just as long as you're celibate.”
The grumpy old man mixing the lemonade says, “Forget it. If you're the sort to leave the house without your husband, I don't even want to talk to you.”
A man down at the end smiles and yells out, “I'll serve anyone, as long as they practice bestiality!”
“Jesus, Clive, keep your voice down! Sorry, he went to school with my mom. Let's see who else we have.”
A woman who has been counting the cases of soft drinks waves them both over.
“So you're straight.”
“Yes.”
“Monogamous, not perverted, and not into animals.”
“Definitely not.”
“Married?”
“Yes.”
“I mean, this is your first marriage?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You said you don't cheat,either? By cheating I mean sex with anyone but your husband. I don't care what you call it.”
“No, I have never cheated.”
“You're not a furry, are you?”
When the other woman just looked at her with a blank expression, the employee said, “Never mind, never mind. You don't look like one, anyway. Let me see your neck.”
“My neck? What for?”
“Some people, mostly women, do something I think is absolutely abhorrent. They choke themselves. They think it helps get them off, but it's just sick.”
“My god, I've never even heard of that.”
“I'm sorry you had to. One cup of lemonade?”
“Yes! Finally!”
“Fifty cents please.”
“There's no tax?”
“We eat the tax. The way business has dropped off, we have to.”
The woman puts two quarters in the employee's hand, and just before she hands the cup over, the employee asks, “Wait, you don't masturbate, do you?”
When the woman just stands there in embarrassed silence, the employee shrieks, ”Oh my god, you touched me with your hand! Get out of my sight!”
Near tears, the woman starts to walk away. But the man on the end, grinning, draws another cup and runs up to her.
“Look, I know you don't like animals, but just say you do.”
“No!”
“What'll it hurt? You don't have to mean it, just say it. Then we'll both be happy. Hey, just tell your boss that some new kid served you, and he didn't ask a damn thing.”
The woman looked at the cup in the man's hand, and thought of the casual way her boss had asked her to pick it up on her way back from lunch.
“Okay, I like animals. I absolutely love them. I do them morning, noon, and night. Satisfied?”
“Here you go. Don't worry about paying, I'll take care of it.”
She walks away, but before she gets to the street she turns around and comes back.
“Let me ask you something. You really have sex with animals?”
The man chuckles.
“Lady, I ended up with cancer four years ago. They had to take both the family jewels, and I haven't gotten it up since. Messing with people like you is one of the few joys I still have.”

Monday, October 14, 2013

Mister Chick, what the hell are you doing here?

It is October. I'm sure this month means different things to different people, but to me it means Halloween. Halloween. This entire thirty-one day period is given to us so that we can revel in horror movies, scary books, and dress up like we secretly wish we could all year long. This is what it meant to me as a kid, and it's what it means to me now.
For the past couple of years I have been reasonably successful in my efforts to come up with costumes and themes that send small children and grown adults running away from my yard as fast as they can while still screaming at the top of their lungs. I take great satisfaction in this. So this weekend I took my wife shopping for tools and props to achieve those noble ends. I love those huge Halloween megastores that pop up this time of year that are a cross between a haunted house attraction and a Walmart. I have the same amount of fun wandering around in them that I did sorting through the comic book rack when I was a kid.
So we're looking around, and as I check out a nice collection of little skulls that sit on a shelf, I see something that slams the breaks on in my head. It's a little booklet a couple of inches tall and about five wide with a black and orange picture of a jack o' lantern on its cover, sitting there doing an excellent job of blending in with all the Halloween decorations.
I read some Chick Tracts when I was little, and ended up disliking them. The comic-book style format got me to read them, but I always came away with negative feelings. The first few times they were effective in getting me scared that I was headed to hell for little things like reading House of Mystery and not basing every decision I made on what someone's version of God might think of it, and inducing that kind of fear in a child is the kind of mean act that creates mean adults. Also, the first time I read one I could tell whoever wrote the stories only saw the world in black and white. When you claim a TV show (Bewitched) has lead people to worship Satan, you're not living in the same zip code as the rest of us.
As far as the person who left it there, I'm of two minds. I've read the literature, which suggests leaving them where people can find them, and I've seen them laying out at bookstores and different kinds of conventions. If that person genuinely believes that their faith is the absolute truth, and that a person might be saved from hell by dropping off a little book, then I can't find fault there. But to believe in the kind of world that Chick shows you, you have to believe in a world where nothing is ordinary, and nothing comes from man. It's either God's, or Old Scratch's. That attitude forbids any expression of doubt, and you can't have honest soul-searching to ponder whether you're doing the right thing or not because anything other than their version of truth sends you to hell. There's no room for you to contribute anything because God's already provided everything you'll need, and there's no room to grow. Just stay exactly as you are, and don't think for yourself.
Funny how I grew up loathing that mindset, isn't it?
My wife and I saw 'Machete Kills' today. That movie is pure silly, bloody, over-the-top-and-then-over-the-hill fun. Watch it.
Still writing.