My first experience with fundamentalists was with my uncle. He was a born-again Christian, and while I didn’t really know what that meant, I knew that he was much more fanatical in his faith. But it would come out in weird ways, like the way he said grace before a meal. We always said grace before the meal, and I was never comfortable around those who said weird grace like reciting Johnny Appleseed, but his was different. His was so much more toady-like, constantly reassuring God that he was really neat and great and fantastic and wise, and we were just really so lucky to have all that God had provided for us. And I agreed, but he always struck me as an ass-kisser.

And then there was the little things that would set my teeth to grating. He was my dentist, and would use the time he had with his fingers in my mouth to prosthelytize to me. I remember shortly after my 13th birthday going in for a checkup. I had with me the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles role-playing game, a gift from my friend Ian that I was enjoying reading up on and plotting out my first campaigns, and he took the opportunity to explain to me that this was a book written by the devil. All role-playing games would result in insanity, drug use, and criminal behavior. I could never get my head around the fact that he would be harsh on me for a role-playing game, but he bought his children all manner of guns and war toys at Christmas, which were haraam in my house. It seemed hypocritical. Things like that used to annoy me, but he was definitely a good person, so I looked past it.

I was never able to understand how anyone could believe so strongly in the books of their faith that they would leave reason to the wolves. The more fundamentalists I met, no matter their particular brand of fundamentalism, the more they struck me as people who lived a life of fear. If they were fundamentalist in their faith, then it was out of sheer terror that any misstep would result in their eternal damnation. If they were fundamentalist in their politics, it was out of fear that the other side should bring everything crumbling down around them. And it was ludicrous. I would hear people talking about how the god damned whatever-we-fear were destroying our country, and then when I looked around I noticed that the country was in the same shape it had always been, it was healthy, happy, and prosperous.

But what annoyed me about the fundamentalists most was the smug, mean spirit they all seemed to possess. Comments like “Love the sinner, not the sin” seemed sweet on the surface, but when you saw the way the statement manifested itself, it was no better than saying, “My God commands me to see you as a person even if you’re a disgusting faggot”. The idea that any “we” were the chosen people, loved best by God and better than all the others just struck me as vanity, which also happened to be a sin. Christians made up some of the most judgemental people I knew, and yet their God commanded them to not be judgemental.

Ultimately, I don’t care if you feel good about yourself and the fact that you’re absolutely certain of your place in the afterlife. We disagree. I’m bloody allowed to. If you are right and your God is the kind of asshole who would command you to blow up buildings or stone thieves or murder your enemies, then surely this God has plans for me when I die, and I’ll gladly face them. But your sick fundamentalism has no place in this world. Live your life, not mine.

I think I’ll convert to the Church of the Great Giant Ghost Puppy. It’s a hell of a lot nicer than dealing with shmucks like this.

Jim