On Religion Posted Wednesday night, November 30th, 2016

You cannot behave like a militant atheist all the time. The idea of God/Gods/the supernatural is important to most of us, because you can find strength, relief, resolution, even joy in it. In the most intense times of your life, it helps you cope with the magnitude of reality. So don't be an asshole to people who believe in some God. They need the idea. You might need it, only you haven't been unfortunate enough to ending up there (or fortunate enough, some might say).

As Regina Spektor puts it:

No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one's laughing at God when they're starving or freezing or so very poor
No one laughs at God when the doctor calls after some routine tests
No one's laughing at God
When it's gotten real late and their kid's not back from the party yet
No one laughs at God when their airplane start to uncontrollably shake
No one's laughing at God
When they see the one they love, hand in hand with someone else
And they hope that they're mistaken
No one laughs at God
When the cops knock on their door and they say we got some bad news, sir
No one's laughing at God when there's a famine or fire or flood
But God can be funny
At a cocktail party when listening to a good God-themed joke, or
Or when the crazies say He hates us
And they get so red in the head you think they're 'bout to choke
God can be funny
When told he'll give you money if you just pray the right way
And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus
God can be so hilarious, ha ha
Ha ha
No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one's laughing at God
When they've lost all they've got and they don't know what for
No one laughs at God on the day they realize
That the last sight they'll ever see is a pair of hateful eyes
No one's laughing at God when they're saying their goodbyes
But God can be funny
At a cocktail party when listening to a good God-themed joke, or
Or when the crazies say He hates us
And they get so red in the head you think they're 'bout to choke
God can be funny
When told he'll give you money if you just pray the right way
And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus
God can be so hilarious
No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one laughing at God in hospital
No one's laughing at God in a war
No one's laughing at God when they're starving or freezing or so very poor
No one's laughing at God
No one's laughing at God
No one's laughing at God, we're all laughing with God

Religion might be valuable as a personal thing. As a social/public institution, it must be destroyed. We are long past due realizing that we don't need it to define our ethics/moral, that the state is now (must be) capable of providing all the social services associated to its institutions in the past, and that we are better off without those potential (and many times actual) nurseries of fascism.

We need to be done with those creepy groups of people that already know what's good and proper for everybody and will ram their ideas of the world down all of our throats.

As Regina Spektor puts it:

you know that statue
that statue of baby jesus
in the window
in the window of the 99 cent store
last night I saw the owner kiss it
and whisper in its ear
I was walking home from walgreen's
and he did not hear me see him
and on the
very very next morning
all the subway cars were hallelu-leluing
welcome back the baby king, the baby king
all the believers they were smiling
and winking at each other
I could honestly say I was scared for my life
they said, all the non-believers they get to eat dirt
and the believers get to spit on their graves...
you know that statue
that statue of baby jesus
in the window
in the window of the 99 cent store
they've been showing it on the news
it was thirty times its size
with a megaphone and a heart-shaped bruise
it was hovering in the skies
and all the
subway cars were hallelu-lelu-leluing, hallejuah
welcome back the baby king, the baby king
all the believers they were smiling
and winking at each other
I could honestly say I was scared for my life
they said, all the non-believers they get to eat dirt
and the believers get to spit on their graves...
believe!...
you know that statue
that statue of baby jesus
in the window
in the window of the 99 cent store
when I woke up I ran and bought it
and locked it in my closet
with a little bread and water
and a flashlight and a first aid kit til he grows

(Comments? email me! jerojasro AT devnull.li)

Tags: eolofonia
Helado casero/colombianidad Posted mid-morning Sunday, October 6th, 2013

Ayer intenté hacer helado casero. Sin éxito, en realidad. El análisis post-mortem sugiere que:

  1. El agua salada se mezcló con la leche.
  2. No hubo suficiente hielo, y la leche no alcanzó a congelarse (que entrara sal tampoco ayudó, en realidad.)

La sopa resultante ... no fue mal almuerzo. (Hah)

Es un nuevo día, ataquemos el problema. Ahora usaré dos bolsas para aislar mejor la leche. También necesitaré más hielo, así que necesito más bandejas para hielo. Así que salgo a comprar un par de bandejas. Al colsubsidio, porque a dónde más.

Consigo las bandejas, voy a la caja. La fila es enorme. Día soleado, y con viento, que hace que la fila no importe.

Detrás de mí está la versión camionero colombiano católico analfabeta de Danny Trejo. Hasta acaba de salir de misa, y todo (me enteraría después). Tiene una cesta repleta de chucherías. Está de más decir que repleta >> 10, la cantidad de artículos máxima para esta caja. Su cesta pesa, por lo que la deja en el piso, y la hace avanzar con el pie.

Cuando llego al último pasillo (al que está perpendicular a las cajas), dejo que la fila avance un poco delante de mí. Tratando de respetar la zona antibloqueo/evitando que me empujen con los carros de mercado.

Por supuesto que Danny quiere avanzar, así que sigue pateando su mercado, e intenta sobrepasarme.

— Señor, no hace falta afanarse. Dejemos ese espacio.
— ¡¿Por qué no avanza?! ¡¿No ve la fila?!
— La idea es que dejemos ese espacio, para que otros puedan pasar. Su cesta estorba.
— (sube el tono de voz) ¡¿Por qué no ayuda?! ¡¿Sí ve?! ¡Por eso estamos como estamos!

(sí, dijo eso, literalmente)

A pesar de eso, pareció entender el mensaje. Cuando pasó alguien más, con su carro de compras, quitó su cesta del camino. Y se pegó a mi espalda. Porque ya había ocupado ese espacio, claro. Lo entendió, pero era demasiado pedir que actuara en consecuencia.

Sospecho que se sintió mal, porque trató de hacer charla, mientras esperábamos. O, trató de deshacerse de mí, mencionando varias veces que podía facturar una compra pequeña, como la mía, en la panadería (en el otro extremo del supermercado). Quién sabe. Hice lo posible por ignorarlo sin ofenderlo.

Llego a la caja. De la nada se materializa una señora delante de mí, que me pide la deje pagar sus cosas, apenas dos.

(Es un día soleado, y el viento sopla, y se escucha en las copas de los árboles. Como en las vacaciones de diciembre, con mi abuelita.)

Es una señora de unos sesenta años. Manos arrugadas, con manchas. Con gafas. Habla con pausas. «Pase.»

(Nota al margen: cada vez me convenzo más y más de que tengo una cara de buena papa inocultable. En lugares públicos, con gente/amigos alrededor, siempre me piden a mí ese tipo de favores. Cara de pichón, diría Bart Simpson.)

Le entrega sus artículos a la cajera, le entrega el dinero. La cajera factura.

— Ay. Señorita... y para, ... para, ... para los puntos ...
— No, señora, ya facturé.

La señora hizo mala cara, recibió el cambio, y se fue.

(No, no me enorgullece que me asocien con uds., compatriotas, y con su puta invalidez cultural.)

Tags: eolofonia

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