God is useless.
My wife Jina wants us to attend a so-called “Christian camp” this weekend. Can you imagine anything more horrifying? And the kicker is that I’ve actually agreed to go, not because I’m an emasculated schmuck (?), but because I like some of the people in her church, and I need to get out of the city of Seoul for awhile. I’m burning up. Melting like an overgrown piece of Kraft American processed cheese-food on a monolithic compact disc of USDA-prime fast food beef consisting of the carcasses of a thousand different cattle. As Walt Whitman said, “I contain multitudes.”
Anyway, I’m keeping this entry short because I’ve been unable to post a few of my last most recent blatherings due to technical difficulties, and need to take a shower anyway to get rid of that cheesy feeling before going back to bed, awakened by routine insomnia, caffeine’s nocturnal drill sergeant that always wrenches me out of bed in the middle of the night.
Regarding the first line of this rant, I have nothing against God per se, since I highly doubt “He” even exists, and it’s hard to abominate a non-entity. What I do despise is “His” effect on some of his more feverish followers, including my ever-so-far-gone wife, who wants me to re-schedule a private English lesson I’m supposed to teach after we get back from all the excitement late Sunday afternoon, since God demands our utmost respect on that day, insecure nebbish that he is.
Listen, if God is that lame, He needs serious help–either from a guru or a shrink, and He’d better learn soon that respect is always a two-way street.