The first piece from our newest constributor, Chris Zapatier. You can read his musings regularly at literarylaughs.com.
I've decided to start my own religion. Not some fly-by-night cult, but my very own religion. Although my own cult - complete with psychotropic drugs and a harem of teenage wives - sounds incredibly cool, I'm hoping to establish something more long term, something that could still be around 2000 years from now. I‘ve even come up with a nifty name for my faith: Christianity, after yours truly.
Just between you and me, what I really want is power, and lots of it. I realize that the quickest way to come to power is to conquer my fellow Americans and rule them with an iron hand, but I do not currently have an army at my disposal. Besides, I don't want to build my empire on conquered subjects thirsting for revolution; I want the kind of fanatical devotion that only religion can garner.
Right about now you're probably wondering, "Who the heck is gonna subscribe to your religion and why?" I'll tell you who, the lost, lonely and down-on-their-luck, simple folk with simple minds, and those whose lives have been unexpectedly touched by the Grim Reaper in some way. And I'll tell you why, ‘cause I'm going to prey on the fear of death, mankind's Achilles' heel. Consider that throughout the ages, the "meaning of life" has been pondered and debated more than any other subject and is still no closer to being known than the first time it was discussed. If I profess to have the answer to this mystery, I will become more than a king among men, I'll become a king of kings among men. And that is exactly what I am going to do. I am going to convince people that they need not question the meaning of life any longer, for life is but a journey to an eternal paradise. If I make people believe that there is a sanctuary from pain and suffering where residents are reunited with long dead loved ones they will gladly devote themselves to lifelong servitude to secure lodging. The best part about this empty paradise promise is that I never have to worry about my dissatisfied customers exposing me as a fraud, by the time they find out they've been had, it's too late! But for this free will extortion scheme to work there has to be commensurate repercussions for failure to practice my faith. There has to be a place equally as bad as my Utopian hereafter is good where those who choose not to embrace Christian dogma will be condemned to spend infinity. I asked five people what they would consider the worst way to spend eternity, and four of them said perpetual burning, so burning it is.
Now let me tell you about Christianity's supplemental literature. Since I dislike writing anything besides humor I slapped together a few Aesop-style fables, plagiarized a handful of stories from ancient religious texts, then wrote myself into some actual historical events to make it read like I was responsible for their occurrence. This book is gonna sell like hotcakes, I won't be happy ‘til there is one copy collecting dust on every Christian's bookshelf. Then I'm gonna turn it into a TV show on Sunday morning - mo' money, mo' money, mo' money'!
Now I must address some of the negatives of spiritual imperialism. My deistic status will no doubt come with a substantial measure of accountability. When puppies get run over, babies are born hare lipped and grannies succumb to cancer, my people will come crying to me wondering why I didn't protect them from Mother Nature's Darwinian standard operating procedures. I've come up with two preemptive, foolproof solutions for this inevitable problem: 1) I'm toying with the idea of a nemesis, an archenemy that exists only to thwart my benevolent agenda, someone or something who revels in perpetuating sorrow, evil, etc. And whenever my followers find themselves waist high in shit luck, they'll know who to blame. 2) Faith. Like the proverbial carrot always dangling a few feet in front of the mule, faith will keep my people working towards their goal of a ceaselessly sublime afterlife. Any questions I cannot answer I'll answer "Have faith." When a member of my congregation wonders why I watch bombs drop on children in the Middle East, or why I don't simply wave my omnipotent hand and feed the multitudes of starving people on this planet, my followers will assure them that there is some divine purpose to my apathy and their suffering. "Have faith," my flock of sheep will baa, "Chris works in mysterious ways." And when I am long gone and my followers begin to fear they've been abandoned, my book will ease their fears with assurances that my return to absolute power is just around the corner, just have "faith."
Undoubtedly, there are going to be certain brainy types who will insist on using science, archaeology, paleontology, and just plain common sense to point out inconsistencies in my book and conundrums in my doctrines. I'm not too worried about them though; I'm going to make them out to be "lost souls" rather than smart skeptics. Besides, I intend to make my people so obdurate to reason that if there is a real God, even he won't be able to undo their brainwashing.
I have big plans for Christianity. If things work as well in practice as they do on paper, my divine brainchild will be global by this time next year. I know how farfetched the idea sounds, but something tells me it just might work.
-Chris Zapatier
I've decided to start my own religion. Not some fly-by-night cult, but my very own religion. Although my own cult - complete with psychotropic drugs and a harem of teenage wives - sounds incredibly cool, I'm hoping to establish something more long term, something that could still be around 2000 years from now. I‘ve even come up with a nifty name for my faith: Christianity, after yours truly.
Just between you and me, what I really want is power, and lots of it. I realize that the quickest way to come to power is to conquer my fellow Americans and rule them with an iron hand, but I do not currently have an army at my disposal. Besides, I don't want to build my empire on conquered subjects thirsting for revolution; I want the kind of fanatical devotion that only religion can garner.
Right about now you're probably wondering, "Who the heck is gonna subscribe to your religion and why?" I'll tell you who, the lost, lonely and down-on-their-luck, simple folk with simple minds, and those whose lives have been unexpectedly touched by the Grim Reaper in some way. And I'll tell you why, ‘cause I'm going to prey on the fear of death, mankind's Achilles' heel. Consider that throughout the ages, the "meaning of life" has been pondered and debated more than any other subject and is still no closer to being known than the first time it was discussed. If I profess to have the answer to this mystery, I will become more than a king among men, I'll become a king of kings among men. And that is exactly what I am going to do. I am going to convince people that they need not question the meaning of life any longer, for life is but a journey to an eternal paradise. If I make people believe that there is a sanctuary from pain and suffering where residents are reunited with long dead loved ones they will gladly devote themselves to lifelong servitude to secure lodging. The best part about this empty paradise promise is that I never have to worry about my dissatisfied customers exposing me as a fraud, by the time they find out they've been had, it's too late! But for this free will extortion scheme to work there has to be commensurate repercussions for failure to practice my faith. There has to be a place equally as bad as my Utopian hereafter is good where those who choose not to embrace Christian dogma will be condemned to spend infinity. I asked five people what they would consider the worst way to spend eternity, and four of them said perpetual burning, so burning it is.
Now let me tell you about Christianity's supplemental literature. Since I dislike writing anything besides humor I slapped together a few Aesop-style fables, plagiarized a handful of stories from ancient religious texts, then wrote myself into some actual historical events to make it read like I was responsible for their occurrence. This book is gonna sell like hotcakes, I won't be happy ‘til there is one copy collecting dust on every Christian's bookshelf. Then I'm gonna turn it into a TV show on Sunday morning - mo' money, mo' money, mo' money'!
Now I must address some of the negatives of spiritual imperialism. My deistic status will no doubt come with a substantial measure of accountability. When puppies get run over, babies are born hare lipped and grannies succumb to cancer, my people will come crying to me wondering why I didn't protect them from Mother Nature's Darwinian standard operating procedures. I've come up with two preemptive, foolproof solutions for this inevitable problem: 1) I'm toying with the idea of a nemesis, an archenemy that exists only to thwart my benevolent agenda, someone or something who revels in perpetuating sorrow, evil, etc. And whenever my followers find themselves waist high in shit luck, they'll know who to blame. 2) Faith. Like the proverbial carrot always dangling a few feet in front of the mule, faith will keep my people working towards their goal of a ceaselessly sublime afterlife. Any questions I cannot answer I'll answer "Have faith." When a member of my congregation wonders why I watch bombs drop on children in the Middle East, or why I don't simply wave my omnipotent hand and feed the multitudes of starving people on this planet, my followers will assure them that there is some divine purpose to my apathy and their suffering. "Have faith," my flock of sheep will baa, "Chris works in mysterious ways." And when I am long gone and my followers begin to fear they've been abandoned, my book will ease their fears with assurances that my return to absolute power is just around the corner, just have "faith."
Undoubtedly, there are going to be certain brainy types who will insist on using science, archaeology, paleontology, and just plain common sense to point out inconsistencies in my book and conundrums in my doctrines. I'm not too worried about them though; I'm going to make them out to be "lost souls" rather than smart skeptics. Besides, I intend to make my people so obdurate to reason that if there is a real God, even he won't be able to undo their brainwashing.
I have big plans for Christianity. If things work as well in practice as they do on paper, my divine brainchild will be global by this time next year. I know how farfetched the idea sounds, but something tells me it just might work.
-Chris Zapatier
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