Saturday, April 19, 2014

Jesus Day

Well, this is almost it. Only one more day to go.

That would be tomorrow, Easter Sunday, after which things return to what passes for normal here.

Although perhaps that ain't quite right.

It seems that if there is no religious holiday or celebration of independence from this or that, or the founding of whatever, then it isn't a true Day in Paradise (which is what they call this place, despite the whale-sized clouds of diesel smoke, tons of liberally-scattered dog droppings, and skull-fracturing noise that goes on day and night).

But who am I to fuss? Just another old fart. Semi-old fart — aging but still able to climb stairs two at a time. And I have hair. And it's not gray.

Anyway, just another random dingdong gringo here for the weather and enjoying the cheap eats.

Unlike Jesus, who is now gay. And, as you may have noticed, has been for quite some time. My grandmother had a picture of him, arms stretched out beseechingly, hands folded in prayer, eyes cast heavenward, hoping for his big break in that upcoming musical. More old-fashioned than the picture included here, but it's definitely the same guy.

I'm being stereotypical. In case you hadn't noticed that either.

Just because a man is handsome and well-groomed, or even beautiful in whatever way it is that men can be said to be beautiful, has nothing to do with homosexuality, and probably around 99.98% of Catholics and Christians in general would go straight for my throat if I said that Jesus was gay, which is, I guess, what I just did. But I'm not, really. Saying that. Exactly.

It's the image of Jesus that is gay. And in the worst sense — gay and not simply gay.

The whole story is mucked. Jesus was an illiterate Palestinian Jew who poked the government one too many times, the way nationalistic political rebels do, and the government whupped him. Sometime later, through the public relations efforts of his followers, combined with accidents of history, we got a new god.

Now he's a poster. No longer a sweating, swearing, strong-armed fighter. No longer someone you'd probably swear back at and maybe take a swing at for always being in your face and giving you problems, and mostly being a dick, but who now is a soft-sell symbol of kind of being nice to people and combing your hair and waiting.

Waiting is the key.

It is an idea that infests all bureaucracies, all monarchies, all oligarchies, all empires, even the empire of religion and the more secular world of business-as-usual.

Want something? Wait.

Keep quiet, don't rock the boat. Be nice. Keep playing on the team you've been assigned to, and wait.

Eventually, you know, it'll come along. What it is doesn't matter. Who you are doesn't matter — just get out of our faces, and go talk to Jesus, that nice guy over there on the poster, and try to be like him and wait. Or go to church and pray.

Something will probably happen eventually.

And if it doesn't, then pray some more.


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