The Peasants' Gods are More Fun

At least, that's what we learn from the ancient Jews, the Greeks, the Romans, and other early civilizations.  And yet, that's also true to some point today.  Try walking into an Evangelical church in the South on a Sunday morning, and then compare that to First Presbyterian in NYC or Chicago.  As the rich folks walk in to church, you can literally hear the sphincters slamming shut.

Of course, for someone like me who has spent his entire life scorning ritual and worship, convinced that the dogma and the rest would slowly cruch the life out of my soul and the fight out of my spirit, I feel somewhat at a loss.  If I find myself on a Sunday morning sleeping in, and then waking up and playing with the cat, am I celebrating God in the form of a small, joyful creature, one who shares with me the miracle of life?  Or is she just one of the little toys they use to distract you in the waiting room at Hell?

I like to listen to the radio when I actually get up early on Sunday mornings.  I like "Breakfast with the Beatles" on WXRT-FM in Chicago (they also strream on the net, for you who live in less fortunate locations).  Either way, I feel closer to God than I would in some stuffy chapel in a coat and tie, tryiong to stay awake for brunch.