This is his suit on the mannequin. Ah, were he really in that suit, I probably wouldn’t be posting right now. My eyes would be elsewhere. (Unapologetic giggle.)
This is his “corpse” being dressed. If I cried, I would be wailing. (Uncontrollably.)
NOW…WHY I’M NOT A ‘”GOOD CHRISTIAN.”
One of my neighbors (I’ll call her Pam) saw me in the yard a few weeks ago and stopped as she was driving by. She said “I haven’t seen you out and about lately.”
I had been dealing with #4, so I indeed wasn’t out and about lately.
I don’t know how the conversation turned to my saying that I was originally from North Carolina but somehow, it did. She was aghast and said “oh, I don’t go there. There’s a city there that is FULL of homosexuals, and they have men who dress up like women and want to use the ladies’ room!”
I laughed and said “do you know how many times I have used the mens’ room because the line for the ladies’ room was so long?”
She asked me where I was from and I said “Asheville.” She said “THAT’S IT! THAT’S THE CITY!”
Everybody in the neighborhood knows that you don’t curse in front of Pam because she’s one of those “God people.” She lives and breathes for her church.
I said “you know, Pam. Asheville is a beautiful town, full of beautiful people.” She said “the Bible speaks against homosexuality.” I said “the Bible also says ‘judge not, lest ye be judged’.”
Fortunately, it started to rain and I made my exit back into my house.
She does not want to get into a scripture quoting contest with me. I may not go to church anymore but I would pit myself against a Bible scholar any day of the week.
A few days later, she saw me hauling the big box to the curb, that my mannequin came in. She stopped and asked me what in the world had come in that box. I went on to tell her about the mannequin and more importantly, the suit I had gotten and the beautiful man who had worn it.
She said “who is that man again?” I said “Wentworth Miller. Look him up. You’ll see what I mean.”
The next day, I was picking up tree limbs that had fallen down from the last nights’ wind and rain. Here comes Pam. She rolled down her window and said “I looked up that man and HE IS A HOMOSEXUAL!”
She went on to say “and did you know his mother is white and his father is BLACK?” I said “I did know that and look at what a beautiful child they made together.”
She looked at me and said “well, he’s going to Hell and so are you if you don’t pray for redemption. You are NOT a good Christian!” Then she rolled up her window and drove away.
WHAT? FOR FUCKS’ SAKE! I’m not a “good Christian” and Hell beckons because I’m not an ignorant, narrow-minded, hypocritical, pretentious, holier than thou, backwoods nitwit?
Fine. Guilty as charged.
I’ve never made it a secret that I believe in God nor have I ever made it a secret that I don’t like Him very much right now. Actually, I’m REALLY PISSED AT HIM right now but the God I believe in doesn’t hate people. If He was Southern and had been in her car, He would have been ashamed.
I have no illusions of ever entering the “pearly gates” and not because I absolutely adore Wentworth Miller (“a half white, half black homosexual”) but because I am honest about things like my hatred for certain people and my complete and utter disdain for any kind of prejudice or injustice. I won’t play the ostentatious “good Christian” game. What you see is what you fucking get and if you don’t like it, you can bite me.
“Bless her heart” (fellow Southerners know exactly what that means.) Hell, I’ve got a good mind to visit her church, dressed like a man and ask “where’s the ladies’ room?”
She is a perfect example of why Southerners are perceived to be…well, exactly what she is.