God Bless America

Contrary to the bleatings of card-carrying members of American Atheists, religion provides a valuable service to civilization.
Those of us blessed with inate common sense and logic are protected from those who can remain civil only under the threat of eternal damnation from a power-tripping boogeyman.
Religion controls the weak, stupid and criminal-minded in ways that threat of jail or community service cannot. If a vision of endless fire and brimstone or torture at the clutches of horny dragon-beast with a 12-inch spiked cock keeps even one person from putting a bullet in my head, religion can't be all bad.

And that's what religion is: crowd control. Deep down, we know there's no greater force controlling our destinies, but that what-if is strong enough to compel a number of people to behave (at least in public) in accordance with the beliefs they think will get them past God's bouncer.

If it keeps you happy and off my property, I've no objections to it. But bring it to my front door, and I'll invite you in for some strychnine-laced tea. (Just ask the last Oxford-clad nerd who accosted me and asked if I wanted to hear more about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.)

Keeping religion separate from the culture is paramount. Islam is viewed as a threat because it's so pervasive. You can't swing a biss by its tail in the Middle East without hitting someone who can recite the entire Koran. Ask an American Christian to name a verse in Leviticus that deals with something other than God hating fags, and you get a blank stare.

That's one of America's strong points. Enough religion is used to control the masses without turning them into fundamentalist zombies. It's that delicate balance that makes America a decent place to live regardless of one's religious beliefs.

We can overlook the occasional shallow embrace of godliness because we know it'll abruptly end once the next season of The Sopranos debuts, and those who believe outside the mainstream don't face widespread persecution.

Bill O'Reilly might devote a segment of his show to mocking those who profess a devout interest in witchcraft and the power of nature, but your high priestess isn't going to have a wall toppled on her because she enjoys dancing naked around a bonfire. She could be featured on Wiccans Gone Wild, however, but after the invasion of privacy lawsuit, that's just more money to build a sweet community at this year's Burning Man.

Americans practice the muzak version of religion. Innocuous, barely noticeable and kept in the background, but when someone ups the decibels, blood gushes from your ears and all you want is for your mommy to take away the pain. Because there are few things worse than the cacophony of superficiality.

The recent decision about the questionable constitutionality of a certain part of the Pledge of Allegiance created all kinds of noise. And when a ruling such as this is made, we're reminded that no matter how many old ladies we help across the street or kittens we rescue from fires, we're still viewed as less moral than the coke-snorting baby beater who loves Jesus. And you know they got much love for their Lord.

The court didn't rule that the theory behind the Pledge of Allegiance is unconstitutional -- although it's hard not to argue that it's outdated -- but that the inclusion of the words "under God" violates the quaint notion that religion and government shouldn't mix.

Take out those words, and the Pledge doesn't lose its heart. It retains the same meaning -- pledging blind, unquestioning loyalty to one's nation via the symbolism of a flag -- and it manages to include all of the hedonistic non-believers and polytheists running this country into the ground.

Americans, for some reason, are hung up on symbolism. Watching the various freedoms that the flag and Pledge represent being eroded barely causes a ripple, but threaten the symbolism of God or country, and armchair pundits come crawling out of the trailer parks and subdivisions.

I tried explaining to my company's 24-year-old German intern why Americans have such a hard-on for a strip of red, white and blue cloth, but it was too foreign of a concept for him to grasp it. True, that Jew-kiling blip in history might hinder his understanding of patriotism and nationalism, but outside of the World Cup and dictatorships using national pride to control its citizens, few countries get so frenzied when symbols are challenged.

Two minutes into a discussion with a co-worker, in which I mentioned my exchange with the Kraut, she invoked the talk radio law -- "All discussions cease to be relevant when someone sputters, Fine, then go to (insert name of country with universal health care or functioning public transporation system)" -- because she couldn't think of a rational argument for keeping those two holy words.

She didn't know why, but damned if it didn't anger her that those words might be excised.

If those three syllables are cut from the Pledge, the country won't turn into a cesspool of violent devil worshippers feasting upon the delicious marrow of the faithful. It likely will happen as the natural course of things, but pledging one's allegiance to a secular nation based on liberty and justice for all isn't going to speed up the process.

I don't believe in a supreme being, but my lack of faith isn't a driving force in my life. When I wake up in the morning, my first thought isn't, Ah, what another lovely godless day this will be.

Of course, it will be, and I'll have more fun than anyone who strictly adheres to a religion, but I don't need to remind myself of what a carefree life I lead. I'm not that insecure.

As such, fighting the Pledge wouldn't be high on my list of American idiosyncracies that need elimination, but since it's been brought to the forefront, rock on, you limp-wristed, bleeding heart, politically correct justices.

But you can't take Americanized religion seriously, particularly in light of the often absurd hand-wringing sparked by this ruling. Just look at Free Republic. Reading that forum shouldn't spark more than a wicked eye-rolling, but there are quite a few non-Christians who think it's definitive proof that all religious people are nuts.

They're not nuts. They're just incapable of forming moral and ethical codes that exist outside of the pre-fab beliefs offered by religion, and they're not even capable of truly following those beliefs handed to them. They're simply hedging their bets against the possibility of an eternity controlled by a supreme being or several supreme beings.

Shortly after the court's decision, a poll found that 60 percent of Americans think that government leaders making public expressions of faith in God is good for the nation.

Somewhere, perhaps in your neighborhood, there are people -- actual human beings with semi-functioning brains -- who genuinely think that corrupt leaders paying lip service to a belief in God boosts the nation's spirit and fortitude.

And the leaders are listening. The House of Representatives recited the pledge, sang "God Bless America" and voted overwhelmingly infavor of a nonbinding resolution urging reversal of the court ruling. Watching our representatives try to out-God each other -- "I start every morning with a prayer" vs. "I start every morning with a healthy dose of self-flagellation and stigmata" -- proved more entertaining than the WWE.

And even faker.

So, at the end of the day, when I'm swigging Jack Daniels as I bathe in the rejuvenating blood drained from innocent newborns, I view religion in much the same way I view my teenaged cousin's bizarre obsession with Michael Jackson: smugly amusing if seen from afar, extremely frightening if the vortex somehow sucks you in.

Do what you want, particularly if it allows me to feel superior, but when you expect me to spend four hours at your graduation party as you (badly) play every song off Greatest Hits: History, Vols. I and II on your violin -- well, you've crossed the line.

I have my limits.