Why I Won’t Let A Stranger Stick An Octopus In My Ass (Or Other Weird Objects In Other Body Parts)
Yeah, I know how it sounds. I’m no fun. I should be open to all new experiences, I get it. But let me explain in the most long-winded way I know how:
Growing up, I was subject to living in what I refer to as an “Overly Christian” household. I don’t think “overly” is a word, maybe it is I am not googling that, but it’s the word I tend to use. What I mean is that my parents were unnecessarily over-the-top Christian. Church every Sunday. Extracurricular church-tactular Jesus events during the week. Bible readings nightly. Every family member having to pick their favorite Bible Verse (Mine was something that had to do with “being nice to your enemies for it will burn coals over their heads” which was basically an Old Testament way of saying “I <3 HATERS!”). Of course, as I assume to be true of most Overly Christian households, the majority of it was a scam and they were every bit as hateful and hurtful as you can imagine authoritarian parents to be. I won’t go into details, because they pray to Jesus and he has already forgiven them for their sins so what’s even the point.
Let’s fast forward to modern me. I’m going to pretend you don’t know me. You probably actually don’t. Or even if you think you do, via my Twitter, you really don’t. Or even if you think you don’t, you really even dont’er. That’s not a word. I realize that. I don’t need your judgement, you don’t know me. Only My Parents’ God can judge me. I digress.
Modern me does not necessarily believe in a God or a Heaven or a Jesus or a Bible that tells me Jesus loves me (though the thought is nice, I have make believe friends on Twitter now for that). And while I realize there are other world religions I could explore, I have a hard time believing one is less of a sham than the other. Religion isn’t smart, in my opinion. Religion is just so we can feel good. That’s why we do it. We do it so we can feel good. We do it so we can do bad things at night and still feel good in the morning. We do it in the kitchen, our bedroom, and in the bathroom. We do it privately. Sometimes we do it in public. On occasion, we might even do it on camera for posterity. I’ve done it loudly before, and I’ve also had to do it really quietly so as to not wake others. I’m talking about praising Jesus, obviously. Perverts. You need to pray about this.
Anyway, regardless of my current beliefs, some of the thought processes instilled in me as a youngster still come around. There’s one thought that I’ve toyed with (sex thoughts again, sorry, pray for me) that I am going to share with you. My mom always seemed to think that when we die, we have to wait in line to see if we’ll be lucky enough to be chosen to grace heaven with our presence. She then horrifically thinks that our entire lives will play out like a drive-in movie for everyone who has recently died to watch. Then God judges you in front of everybody. I realize this is a ridiculous thought, but imagine however-many-people-die-in-your-lifetime-so-like-hopefully-a-70- year-span-I’m-not- googling-that amount of people watching EVERY. THING. YOU. FUCKING. DID. IN. YOUR. LIFE.
Now remember, everything in life is about perception and perception is relative. Something could be seen as better or worse depending on what surrounds that thing. So I think death, then, should be about timing. As in, I feel like the most fool-proof way to get into heaven is to die RIGHT after a sex-murderer. Or somebody who beats puppies. JUST SOMETHING AWFUL. And they do it A LOT. And they never GET CAUGHT. Imagine the horror as you’d have to watch every little awful thing they do, since they’re right ahead of you in this Heaven Line. Yeah, this person’s going to hell. BOOM! THEY’RE FIRED! I couldn’t help it.
In this case, if I were to die right after this monster of a human being, then yeah. I’d feel pretty safe having my one bad/weird/why-is-this-happening thing be a stranger sticking a small octopus in my ass. Maybe repeatedly. Maybe just once for a short time. Maybe just once for a long time. I don’t know if I’ll like it. Again, you need to not be so judgmental.
But, here’s the lame part: you don’t choose when you die. You don’t know who else is dying in the world a split second before you. And again, may I remind you, I’m not religious anymore. I think religion is a joke and a lie. But you can’t be too careful…
You could die right after a Pope.