Marching to the finish line

A ponderable for you this morning: If an atheist and a politician both march to Washington, which one will get to hell first?

Conservative talk radio couldn’t control itself this morning. Word of a Godless Americans March (what great GAMs they have!) sent our local right-winger into a tizzy. His co-host spent a good amount of time expressing disbelief that 30 million Americans classify themselves as atheist, agnostic, humanist, of free-thinkers. Egad. Apparently, the vocal atheist set has decided that if Martin Luther King can march, if a million men can march, if a million moms can march…by God–er, by something–they can march, too. I have it on good authority that the chant “Hell no, we won’t go!” has already been stricken from the agenda.

I’ve never been much of a marcher. I spent four hours marching in a Christmas parade once. I really had to pee, so I don’t remember much of the marching. Everytime I heard “Sleep in heavenly peace,” I couldn’t help but think, “Sleep after heavenly pee.” Does that make me a heathen?

Discussions of religion always make me uncomfortable. Don’t ask why, because I don’t know. That could be the reason that most of my really good discussions about religion have come when I was a tad on the inebriated side. I recall two very clearly. One was bellied up to a bar with a friend of mine who recently found a church to his liking. The other conversation took place over a bottle of Southern Comfort and a 12 pack of Natural Lite beer in room 616 of Laws Hall in Columbia, MO. That one lasted for hours and I recall a lot of loud voices. So much for hitting the town and looking for chicks. Five guys in a room, getting drunk on cheap beer and peach whiskey, talking about the ups and downs of conventional religion. Now that is a Saturday night.

(continued below…damned Blogger)