ConstantCommentary® Vol. VI, No. 150, July 11, 2002
by Mike Jasper
I think I finally snapped when Jason Giambi won the Century 21 home run contest the night before baseball's All-Star game. Giambi and seven other major-league sluggers each competed on behalf of fan contestants who were entered to win $250,000 toward a house not likely to be bought in California -- where $250,000 will buy you a back porch and a swing set.
Giambi's lucky winner was a blonde woman from Bumfuck, Idaho (I think) and when she stepped to the microphone to express her gratitude she announced, "First, I want to thank God."
Give me a break, I thought. Giambi's a good hitter and all, but that's laying it on thick. Of course, she meant that other god. You know. The one who can beat up your god.
It's not the first time I've heard god mentioned in relation to a sports victory, but I do believe it's the first time I've heard it from a fan. Usually, god doesn't enter the game until well after it's finished (he's so like a Dodger fan that way) when his name is invoked by a star player instrumental in the win. Average players, those godless-sons-of-bitches, don't seem to mention the G word at all.
Take St Louis Rams quarterback Kurt Warner, for example. He wins Super Bowl XXXIV and the first thing out of his mouth is, "I just want to thank God for this win." This year, he loses the Super Bowl and doesn't say jack shit about god. It's pretty clear to me. God wanted Warner to lose. God might even have wanted Warner to go back to arena football, possibly back to being a grocery clerk.
"God spoke to me last night," Warner says. "He said, 'Clean-up on aisle three.' It's a sign."
It's not just sports. God is everywhere, like some cosmic insurance salesman. In California, a parent of a grade-school student noticed god had wormed his way into the pledge of allegiance. He sued to have the phrase "under God" removed from the pledge on the grounds that it violated the Constitutional provision for separation of church and state. Moreover, the addition of "under god" vaguely validates the Eisenhower administration.
My friends back in California are completely torn over this issue. Half of them agree with this lawsuit and want "under God" removed from the pledge. The other half want the pledge dumped entirely. (There's also a small, insignificant percentage who want me to stop ripping off Bill Hicks.)
I don't have anything against god personally, just the people who hang out with him. They scare the fuck out of me. Comedian George Carlin said, "Under religion, murder is negotiable." I'd have to take that a step further and say that under religion, murder is inevitable -- whether it's a bunch of Holy Crusaders off to kill Muslims or a handful of Muslims off to kill day traders. Eventually, every man of god will think, "It's so hard to keep my faith in such a godless world. Hmmm. Maybe we should get rid of the godless. Hmmm. I'm hungry."
Should it come to a religious war between god and godless, I don't think my confession that god is real and is, in fact, a rubber chicken on the far side of Mars is going to save me.
I don't know why my rubber chicken won't fly, since god can obviously assume many shapes. For some, it's a hippie in a loin cloth. For others, it's a fat guy who sits on his ass all day (I kind of like that one).
But the god squabble doesn't end with different versions of the supreme being. Those who believe in the hippie god disagree on the proper way to believe in him, so the 149 different Christian religions refuse to commune with each other -- which is why the godless have a chance. What we really need are 437 more religions to take the spotlight off the godless. After all, if you wiped out all of the Mormons, you'd still have 49 states left. To survive, we must diversify. (Note to Johnnie Cochran: You can use that last line if you want.)
Survival is the key issue for me. Every day I pray, "Please, god, don't let your followers kill me." I've pretty much given up on any quixotic notions of separation of church and state. For example, state law prohibits murder. And the Ten Commandments decree, "Thou shalt not kill." The key word is "thou." God himself can kill whoever he deems fit whenever. If he's in a playful mood, he might turn you into a pillar of salt. So how in the hell is that substantially different from the state of Texas?
Rodney King said, "Can't we all just get along?" Obviously, the answer is no, we can't. We can only hope to get along just a little bit better than before. The path to peace is in baby steps. (Note to Rodney King: You can use that last line if you want.)
Here's a baby step I'd like to see taken. If we can't have separation of church and state, can we at least have separation of church and sports?
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| Mike
Jasper is a writer and musician living in Austin, Texas. Originally
from the San Francisco Bay Area, he has strong ties to Seattle, St.
Petersburg, Florida and North Platte, Nebraska. He can be reached at
column@mikejasper.com or PO Box 91174, Austin TX, 78709 or 24-hour
voice mail at 512-916-3727. Accessible? I think so.
© 2002 by Mike Jasper, All Rights Reserved. ConstantCommentary® is published whenever Mike Jasper feels like it. All material is the responsibility of the author. Special thanks to those who helped along the way: Jeff Cox, Susan Maxey, Catherine Clay, Cathleen Cole, Valerie Sprague, Ian Wolff, Laura Martin and Karin Stephenson. (You may download this article, print it out for personal use and e-mail it to your friends. But you must never, ever give Kurt Vonnegut the credit.) |