Dogma Condemned

It's been a few weeks folks, and lately some things have got me roilin' and broilin', so it's time for me to write a little bit on here. This time I am taking the gloves off so to speak. Time to have the inevitable discussion on organized religion. Now before you groan and take to commenting and start fussin' on me, hear me out. I don't have a problem with folks who follow god's teachings or live by the code of the bible. What I do have a problem with, is when you try applying these teachings to other people's rights and make judgements on their lives and way of living. And plus, this is my fucking blog, and I made it clear from the get go that you won't like a lot of this stuff. So if you think you are going to be offended, you might as well just close the tab now. Because like I said, the gloves are coming off tonight and we're gonna have a little bare knuckle street brawl

When I was just a kid, my Mom raised my brother and I as little button up shirt wearing Christians. I don't know the exact age that I first started going to church, but I do know that I was baptized and my brother as well. I assume my mother just thought it was the right thing to do. Dad never attended church with us. I will get to him later. It was always my mom, brother and grandma and I. At a young age I thought I had a pretty good idea of how things worked. You went to church, listened to the pastor preach from behind his pulpit and tell tales of miracles and this super rad dude named Jesus. It all seemed legit back then. Completely harmless, and obviously the stuff this guy was saying made sense at the time. I was young. Squishy underdeveloped brain and all. He said if you did good things, behaved like a decent human, didn't steal from your neighbor, fuck other dude's wives, or murder anyone, you had a pretty good shot of getting into heaven. But there was always a catch. You couldn't worship any other gods. Only that god. If you did, you would piss off the one "true" god and that motherfucker wouldn't let you in heaven then. Shit like that would get you a VIP pass to hell, to hang out with god's old homey Satan. Fire, brimstone, eternal torment, all that fun shit that Morbid Angel was always blathering on about in their lyric booklets. Long story short, when I was a kid, I didn't want to go to hell and get prodded by demons with pointy garden tools for all of eternity, so I did as I was told, went to church, bowed my head in prayer, and didn't question a damn thing about it. There was no other alternative. You were either going to church and praying and living by god's code, or you were going to hell. Simple as that.

A lot of things happen to a person's brain as they get older. You begin to question things. When you hit about 16 or so, you start questioning a LOT of things. I wish I could tell you how old I was when I started sort of questioning the Judeo Christian doctrine, but I want to say I was probably 18 or 19. As cliche as it probably sounds, a lot of it stems from my burgeoning obsession with heavy metal music, and the lyrical fodder and images it paints. I remember the very first time I listened to Morbid Angel. I was 19. I was smoking a lot of weed, sitting in my room with my headphones, reading the lyrics. These dudes were some blasphemous motherfuckers. Devil worship and christ bashing was a big topic for them. I remember the first time reading the lyrics and I was quite honestly, aghast. My whole world was turned upside down. I remember thinking, man, is listening to this shit gonna get me a straight ticket to hell? Nowadays even reading what I just typed makes me want to puke and shit all over myself, just because it sounds that stupid. It was at that point that I sort of realized it was ok to question religion and it's hypocrisy and shortcomings.  I started inhaling and consuming any and all sorts of blasphemous christ bashing metal bands I could find. Listening to bands like this, who had two outstretched middle fingers toward religion and the church with unabashed defiance was what sort of led me to start questioning any and all religion. I started reading anything I could find on Atheism, Agnosticism, and anything else that cast skepticism on the subject. I was hooked. Obviously I had heard of these things before, but I never sought them out, because from a young age, it was bored and drilled into my skull that all of this was wrong, and Jesus was the light and the way. Heavy music, and it's "taboo" subject matter, opened my eyes to life outside of theism. It really didn't take me long to realize that I didn't want to consider myself a good ole christian boy anymore. I could go on and ramble about it some more, but I think you get the general idea. To sum it up, young disenfranchised misfit kid starts listening to death metal, starts questioning religion, does some research, abandons religion. Simple as that

In early November 2008, I was at work one day, when I got a call to come to the front desk. This seemed odd to me, as I never got called to the front desk for anything. I dismounted my machine and made my way up there. My mom was there, and she had a look on her face I will never forget. She looked morose, and filled with despair. She told me that my dad was sick, and I had to go now. A bit of a back story, my dad at this point was a full blown career alcoholic, and he was in and out of the hospital all the time with liver problems. I had always known that alcoholism was going to kill my dad. He knew it too. He just didn't care. He felt he had nothing to live for, and nothing to look forward to, so he got drunk 24/7 to make life liveable. So I went and told my supervisor I had to go, and I proceeded to the hospital in Iowa City. Dad was at the veterans hospital. He had a brief stint in the army back in the 70's, so he got free healthcare through the vet clinic. Which is a good thing, because the bills he would have racked up would have been astronomical. Once I got to the hospital the doctor was very blunt. Dad was scheduled to leave that day, but as he was getting ready to go, he began to have some sort of seizure or withdrawl symptoms. They ran some tests, and discovered that his liver, or his kidneys were failing. I don't exactly know what was failing, all I DID know was whatever it was, was something he needed to survive. Doc laid it on thick. He told me dad was dying, and they wanted to know what we wanted to do with him.

Dad was ineligible for a liver transplant. Getting a liver transplant isn't easy if you are a career drunk with no money. Bottom line was, he needed a new liver and he wasn't going to get one. All they could do was keep him there and make him comfortable until we decided what we wanted to do. By we I mean my brother and I. Over a 2 week period we drove back and forth to Iowa City every day in my crappy little Chrysler Lebaron to see dad in the hospital. He had various IV's and cords and wires hooked into him, pumping fluids in, giving him essential things he needed to survive. Eventually, the doctor told us that dad couldn't stay there anymore, he wasn't going to come out of this, and he was taking up bed space for someone who actually could get help and needed it. Let me be clear on this. Dad knew he was dying. For the most part he was pretty coherent during the ordeal. This hospital had a lot of attractive young college age nurses running about tending to patients, and he had more than a few he was fond of. Even on his death bed he found time to mingle and flirt, and crack witty jokes. It was just who he was. He was 48 years old, laying there dying, and he was cracking jokes flirting with girls 25 years younger than him. He was a rascal, a scamp, a coot, and a motherfucker all rolled into one. He was my dad. Anyway, he was well aware of his precarious state, and eventually we had to make the heavy decision to take him off of the life support and he was sent to a different part of the hospital where he could be more comfortable. No more IV's no more machines hooked into him. I had a few heady talks with him. Told him I loved him. Told him no matter what he did in his past, he was my dad and I forgave him. He didn't say a whole lot when things got heavy like that, but I could tell he understood what I was trying to get across.

My favorite and most lasting memory of Jeffry Lynn Tjaden came on one of the last days I ever saw him alive. My brother, grandma, and mother and I were all at the hospital, and the hospital staff sent a lady to talk to us. She was some sort of hospital chaplain,, or something. I am not exactly sure of her title. She sat us down in a room adjacent to the room my father was staying in. She wanted to ask us if we thought that dad wanted to see a priest, as he was on his deathbed. On an important note, I must make it clear that my father was never a religious man. I remember as a child him mocking and ridiculing any and all sorts of religion. He was a sarcastic, bastard of a man. I recall being confused by this, and just dismissed it as dad being, well dad. Anyway, my mom thought it might be imperative that dad see a priest, because after all, she was somewhat religious, and she wanted dad to be at "peace" and all that. Immediately I scoffed at this notion. I wasn't certain, but I assumed dad wouldn't want any part of that at all. I did my best to keep a straight face, and went in to ask him:

"Dad, hey there is a lady in here that wants to know if you want to see a priest. Do you want to see a priest?"

*Dad looks at me hard. Then he glances up at the ceiling in the room, for what seems like an eternity. Finally he looks back at me, and I will never forget it, deadpan fucking serious look on his face and he says "No. Send in a whore"

"Ok dad I will go tell them that". I snickered to myself, walked back into the room and said, "No, he doesn't want to see a priest"

This scene I just described to you, had an enormous impact on my life. I will never forget that. On his deathbed, fully aware that any time he was going to expire, my dad refused to acknowledge religion, or entertain any thought of the afterlife. That was huge for me. Even now, as I am, a full blown atheist, I am not so sure even I could do that. I was 22 then, and I had more or less considered myself an atheist, but that cemented it in stone for me. To stare death in the face and not beg for forgiveness. No repentance. No confessional. Straight up defiance in the face of mortality. Jeff Tjaden passed away on November 26th 2008. He was cremated, and his ashes spread to the mighty Maquoketa river. No religious ceremony was performed at his funeral.

So, why am I attacking religion tonight? Why am I telling this long, drawn out, rambling personal tale for any and all to see, opening myself up to scrutiny, and ridicule? The other day the Supreme Court began a hearing on whether or not they would strike down the Defense of Marriage Act. It was a law passed that proclaimed that, in essence, it's only cool for a man and a woman to marry. There is a whole shit ton of other legal mumbo jumbo involved, and quite frankly this post is long enough. Bottom line is a lot of people, (99% of them on the conservative right wing spectrum) don't want gays to get married because apparently THE BIBLE SAYS IT AINT RIGHT. In my opinion, one person's religious ideals should never infringe on the rights of others. Not everyone in the world is a christian. You can't tell other folks what they can and can't do because your belief system says what is or isn't right according to their morals. Let people be free to love who they want to love.  I think that as a whole, human beings are so self absorbed, so selfish, they think they are entitled to an eternal life in heaven, right after they just lived their life on earth. If you really think about it, isn't that the most fucked up selfish thing you can imagine? You get to live, then you die, but then you go to heaven and live forever? Fuck that. You live one life. You get one. You live it the best you can. You don't need a strict code or the rules of an ancient book to know what is right or wrong. Don't steal shit. Don't fuck other dude's wives. Don't kill people. Don't molest little kids. Oh wait a minute. Didn't some Catholic pries.... You get the idea. You don't need religion to figure out how not to be a fucking cretin. If anyone reads this long meandering tale, I know I will catch some flak from religious folks. That's fine. Don't bother wasting your time posting angry comments. That is energy you can be devoting to bible worship and self righteousness.

Love,

Blasphemous Atheist dickhead