Sid Vicious

(My apologies if this is horribly written. I don't have much time to devote to it today, but I felt that this was a topic that I needed to write on now or else I never would.)

Ernest Hemingway said "Happiness amongst intelligent people is the rarest thing I know."

They've done all sorts of studies to prove or disprove this longstanding idea that intelligent people are more unhappy than stupid people.

The conclusion, generally, is the most brilliant of minds shrugging their shoulders. How do you quantify happiness? How can you be sure that anyone is being accurate or even truthful about how happy they are. On top of that, isn't studying happiness possibly the most depressing thing a person can do?

Love, for example, has a definition. To love something, in the American sense, is to want it. When you tell your boyfriend or your girlfriend or husband or wife that you love them, what you mean is, "I want you." It doesn't necessarily mean sexual wanting, but it most definitely means objectification. We lust for something or another...whether it's sex or companionship or a good laugh. Perhaps you'd like to yell at me at the top of your lungs, explaining that love is something different -- sacrificial, magical. And I envy you. Because ignorance IS bliss. And I suppose I'll stop myself from explaining in haunting detail why to love means to lust

every

single

time.

And there's this Christian notion that love is self-sacrifice. That Jesus did not want us as much as he wanted FOR us. And I do not believe that this has occurred one single time since. Not toward me and not from me. There is no magic in love. As much as Hollywood would like for me to believe that love is something fantastic -- made of equal parts sunshine, unicorns and Braveheart the CareBear...I know too much. I wondered, and I explored, and I have found that the world is not flat. I don't think I'm alone in this, I don't think my de-mystifying of love is anything novel...except to the stupid people of the world. I do think, however, that there is one mystery left -- Happiness.

And so we've got scientists scrambling as fast as they can to quantify happiness. To figure out it's root causes and understand why some are happier than others. Why do some people have the joy, joy, joy, joy down in their hearts, and some people join the Sex Pistols? I couldn't tell you (thank God.) Because if I could...I'd probably start pounding nails into the floor with my forehead.

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I feel like it was elementary school when I first heard the phrase "knowledge is power."

I guess it could have been earlier.

And boy...we learn from a young age that being powerful is a fantastic idea.

It's not like your third grade teacher sits you down to watch Reading Rainbow, and that guy who plays Geordie LaForge says, "Remember kids, knowledge is power! And also, power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely!"

My senior year of high school, I dated a girl who was a genius. She was gorgeous and fun and perhaps the most free person I've ever met. She also manipulated every single person around her. After we broke up, it occurred to me that I could not trust anyone smarter than me because chances were, they too were a manipulator. So far, it's proven true. People smart enough to understand the way people work are also smart enough to work people.

I keep going back to Perelandra lately, and C.S. Lewis's brilliant line about the root of all evil being the desire to have tomorrow what one had yesterday or the day before. What is intelligence more than the knowledge of how EXACTLY to get what one wants? What is the purpose of learning beyond becoming more able to get what you want AND KEEP IT (in some way or another).

My own personal theory is that absolute power does not corrupt absolutely. Power is a drug like no other. For gods, there is absolute power...and if you believe that a god exists, chances are you believe that He or She is not absolutely corrupted. Men, however, are incapable of absolute power -- but the closer we get, the more perilously we scramble for just a bit more.

And yet, the more unhappy it makes us.

The root of all evil, says C.S. Lewis -- is the desire to hoard. To keep what you do not need just in case you need it tomorrow, or to fear losing something you believe you cannot live without. Jesus said to observe the birds of the air -- they don't sow or reap or gather in barns, but your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they?

I don't know about you, but I like to live slightly more comfortably than birds. I'm trying to rid myself of that, but it's not going so well.

If knowledge is power, and the quest for power is always a bad idea...then isn't the pursuit of knowledge a phenomenally bad idea?

My friend Canada says he doesn't like going to churches because "Why would I want to waste my time listening to some guy who is hell-bent on de-mystifying the only magical thing left in the world."

It's starting to get annoying how often you're right, you jerk.

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Apparently, there's no study that has PROVEN that smart people are more unhappy than stupid people, but I'm starting to get the impression it's true.

"Ignorance is bliss," they say. I don't really know who 'they' are in this case. So, I looked it up. Thomas Gray:

Thought would destroy their paradise.

No more; where ignorance is bliss,

'Tis folly to be wise.

where ignorance is bliss sounds an awful lot like Charlotte, North Carolina.

And if it's folly to be wise, does that mean it's stupid to go out and learn about the world I live in? I don't have the answer to that one. And, for Santa Clause's sake...if you know the answer to that one, please don't tell me.

I think I'll go cry now.

Either that or have a cigarette.

A cigarette seems like the stupider choice.

I am an adulterer.

I am not a great man. But if by telling you that I am not a great man, that makes me a great man...well...then, I guess I must be a great man.

My friend Canada threw that quote out at me.

And so humility becomes just another tactic...to prove how great I am.

But at what point is the line crossed?

I can tell you that I am a wretch, and you place your hand between my shoulder blades and look into my innocent pale blue eyes and tell me that I am not.

I can tell you that I have lied, stolen, hurt people -- deeply and on purpose, stepped on others in order to get ahead, looked down on nearly everyone around me. For this, you would applaud me for my bravery and willingness to expose my naked soul for all to see.

But my soul is not naked. I am too smart for that. I am humble because I am cunning. It is a tactic, like every other human action. Stanislavski taught me that.

But at what point can I cross that line?

How can I convince you that I suck? When can I describe my actions in such vulgar, profane detail that you might agree with me?

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There is a bit of a dilemma within the modern Church. Somewhere along the line, we adopted the term “Christian.” If you are unfamiliar with the etymology, the word means “Little Christ.” I recently read an article by a man who swore off the title. He suggested that it is arrogant and offensive for a person to call him or herself a “little Christ.” He vowed never to use the term to describe himself ever again.

I agree. I agreed with him on every single point. But then what shall we call ourselves?

I raised this question to my aunt. She is a wonderful woman and quite passionate about Jesus herself. She suggested perhaps we should start calling ourselves Christ followers. It has all the benefits of stating that we are trying to be like Christ without pridefully suggesting that we ARE like Christ.

AWESOME.

Only, I don’t think many people are actually trying to be like Christ. I’m pretty sure we’re all just looking for new and exciting ways to prove that we’re better than everybody else.

So maybe a handful of people can accurately label themselves “Christ-followers.” But I don’t really think I’m trying hard enough to be a part of that crowd. Sometimes, maybe, but most of the time...when I am trying hard to be Christ-like...I’m just doing it so that I can look down on all the people who aren’t trying as hard as I am.

So, what the hell do I call myself?!?!?!

I’m not a Christian. I’m not even a Christ follower! But I don’t believe in the Flying Spaghetti Monster either! I believe the whole Jesus story, I’m just not willing to give him a bad name by suggesting that I’m anything even remotely like him.

What the hell do I call myself! I need a goddamn name!

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Once, I interviewed my friend Phil about this thoughts on Christianity. Phil is a great man, whom I deeply respect and admire. He is flawed just like the rest of us -- but he knows quite a few things that I don’t, and he does a slightly better job at pretending like he’s Jesus than I do. During this interview, one little gem stood out to me.

Now bear with me, because this is probably a tired, old metaphor...but it was new to me.

It’s like my house is heaven. Now it’s all nice and clean and beautiful and wonderful. I tell my kids they can go outside and play, but don’t play in the mud. So they’re kids. What do they do? They play in the mud. Does this mean I’ll never let them back inside my house? Of course not! But it does mean that I’m gonna hose them down, first.

He then backspaced a few times on that and decided it was more like a virus with a cure than mud and a hose...and he was right. It’s the more accurate metaphor, because really...what does it matter if your house gets dirty. BUT, if there is a deadly disease running around, it makes sense for heaven to remain quarantined.

But, I like the mud metaphor better. It’s more visceral. I’m a filmmaker...viruses aren’t primal...mud and water...those resonate.

So I imagine it like this. God has a clean house. He wants everybody to have a super sweet awesome party in there, but we’re all covered in shit...literally, shit. We hate our miserable lives because every second of every day, we are covered in shit. It’s all around us. People are throwing it, but even faster than they can throw it -- we are rolling around in it, smearing it into every pore and orifice. I imagine Jesus as the the big fat guy standing at the entrance of the house, smoking a cigar, covered in tattoos and looking like a line cook at Waffle House. He is holding a hose and is more than happy to hose off anybody who comes inside.

The Christians are the ones who are out in the shit storm telling everybody about the fat guy with the hose. Only nobody’s buying what they’re selling. And I’ll tell you exactly why. Because the Christians all pretend like they’re not covered in shit; all you have to do is look at them to know it’s a big fat lie.

I walk up to you, all three of you who read this blog...I, personally walk up to you. There is a mixture of shit covering my entire body. I’m talking dog shit, horse shit, cow shit, rabbit shit, llama shit, cat shit, human shit...everything shit. It’s in my hair, all in my hair -- lathered in like shampoo. It’s caked down my face like makeup on a prom queen. When I grin, you can see it between my teeth. It’s in my ears, under my fingernails, it’s so heavy it weighs down my clothes and causes them to stick to my body.

And I’m not talking old shit, like all crusty and dried out after a few days. I’m talking new, recent, wet, stinky shit.

So...I walk up to you. And I say, “Hey, you’re covered in shit. Wouldn’t you like to be clean, like me? And totally NOT covered in shit?”

I can’t imagine you would take my solution very seriously.

See, the problem with Christianity is that it’s just one more tactic in our never-ending quest to prove that we are better that everybody else.

Hobbes said, “I put for the general inclination of all mankind, a perpetual and restless desire of power after power, that ceaseth only in death.” And he was pretty much the smartest stuffed tiger I can think of.

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Christianity is a fairy tale. It’s stupid. Only stupid people could possibly believe in it. Stupid or else naive. It is imaginary, a religion of wishing upon stars.

But if I learned anything from Pinocchio, it’s that wishing upon stars is never a bad idea.

We “Christians” spoil that illusion. If I tell you a beautiful fairy tale about a selfless and elegant man who loves you despite the fact that he knows exactly how unlovable you are...you might just be inclined to believe that He exists somewhere out there -- because you so greatly yearn to be loved, and especially by someone who knows just how unlovable you are.

But if I tell you that I am even remotely like this man, the illusion is broken. Because you smell the bullshit that I am covered in. And if this man is anything like me, he can’t possibly be as great as all the fairy tales say he is. Because I don’t love you. (I’m pretty sure that nobody really loves anyone, to be honest. Not in the way the Bible talks about. In fact, I’d be willing to bet my life on that.)

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I was reading through the Old Testament -- specifically the prophets. To be more specific, it was Amos, I think. I’m not certain. There was a verse in there where God likened the Israelites behavior to adultery. The prophets are DENSE with this terminology. I have a feeling, actually, that adultery may have been Jeremiah’s favorite word. Over and over and over, the prophets call the Judites and the Israelites “adulterers.” And yet, they never call anybody else adulterers. The Philestines are awful and wicked, but they’re not adulterers. The Babylonians, the Assyrians, the Egyptians -- the term is never used on them.

Why? Well, obviously, they never entered into a covenant with God. If we’re using the same metaphor, these people groups are merely fornicators. People who get into bed with idols and false gods, but have every right to do so...they never entered into a relationship with God. They never committed their lives to him. They never admitted His existence.

Which led me to the realization that I had found a new term for Christians. We are the adulterers. If we truly realize that praying that silly prayer in which we state that we believe in a fairy tale does not make us into some kind of sinless perfect person, then we are forced to admit that we are still sinners. We are still covered in shit. And if we believe in our silly little fairy tale, and we continue to sin...then we are adulterers.

You can argue semantics if you like. Or, you can ask ten people on the street which is worse: sleeping with 100 people before you married or having 1 affair. I think all ten would agree.

We “Christians” look down on those horrible fornicators, forgetting that we have committed a far more serious transgression.

Perhaps instead of wearing crosses, we should wear Scarlet letters. Only, the Scarlet letter would quickly become a symbol of pride. What we Christians need is a symbol of shame.

I am ashamed to call myself a Christian. And for the first time in my life, it is not because I don’t want to be associated with “those people.” This time, I’m pretty sure I’m the one bringing down the rest of the group.

So I’ll call myself an adulterer, for at least as long as it’s trendy for me to do so. I may even have a scarlet A tattooed across my chest just to remind myself what a massive effup I am.

Would someone please kill me already?

Let’s say somebody disagrees with you. Let’s say it’s a fairly important issue. You have a few options:

1. Kill the infidel.
2. Shake your head about how silly they are.
3. Tell them you love them. If necessary prove this by dying in their place.

Now, maybe I’m exaggerating the options...but I’m fairly sure these three represent the three distinct possibilities. They also represent, in my never-humble opinion, the worldview expressed by three major world religions.

1. Islam
2. Eastern Religions (especially Buddhism)
3. Christianity

I’d like to take this moment to say two things.

First -- I am fairly sure that the majority of “Christians” take the first worldview. Therefore, for the sake of removing ambiguity (and also for the sake of pissing them off) I will henceforth refer to them as Muslims...actually, scratch that. Henceforth I will refer to them as assholes. The rest of the Christians I know...and to be honest...the better ones, fall into the second category. I will call these people Weirdos...as that seems more accurate than calling them Easterners. Finally, there are the actual Christians, who’s outlook matches the one they claim to have. For the sake of simplicity, I will call these people nonexistent.

Second -- I recently read up a bit on a concept called fatwa. And BOY DO I WANT ONE. Let me back up and explain for those of you who didn’t grow up speaking Arabic. A fatwa (or fatawa, depends on where you find it) is a declaration of some sort by a major leader in the Islamic community. The popular misconception is that the term is only used to describe a death sentence placed on a person. The term, in fact, is far broader than that, and describes many many other types of declarations. Personally, though, I want the popular misconception type.

You see, I’ve always wanted to be assassinated. For one thing, you just leave a more lasting impression on the world after your dead if you’re a martyr and not some old guy who died peacefully in his sleep. But also, as a supposed Christian...if nobody wants me dead, am I really shaking things up to the degree that Jesus would want me to? So, there’s that. But now that I’ve heard about this fatwa thing...I now know WHO I want to kill me -- the Muslims. Now...I know what you’re thinking: “beggars can’t be choosers, Reed.” And yeah, you’re right...they can’t. But they CAN do everything possible to piss off the Islamic community until they declare a fatwa. And really...it’s not like that’s especially hard to do.

This guy named Salman Rushdie writes books. He’s wasn’t even particularly famous before he wrote a book called “The Satanic Verses.” To simplify it a bit (actually, to OVERsimplify a whole hell of a lot) -- “The Satanic Verses” is basically the “The DaVinci Code” of Islam. It’s a fiction book with a fictional plot and fictional characters. And actually, “The Satanic Verses” is a bit tamer than “The DaVinci Code” in terms of the sorts of allegations it’s FICTIONAL characters bring up. So, Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, the spiritual leader of Iran at the time, announced a fatwa requiring all good Muslims to kill Salman Rushdie. That’s...ALL...good Muslims. The guy was put in the witness protection program for a while, but eventually left because he felt like hiding would be allowing them to win.

Another story: There’s this chick who was raised in an Islamic society -- complete with the arranged marriage and everything. So, she ran away and sought political asylum in Holland. So then, she decides to write this movie about the rape, abuse, and other mistreatments of women that are not only permitted but encouraged in the Koran.

If you are a married man, and at some point, you’ve thought to yourself... “Gosh, I hate it when she says she has a headache when I’m totally wanting to get it on! I wish I could just beat her a little and then rape my own wife,” fear not...just convert to Islam...that’s totally what you’re supposed to do.

So, yeah, this chick, who (for the sake of convenience) we’ll now refer to as Ayaan Hirsi Ali wrote a screenplay exposing the treatment of women in Muslim countries. The film was directed by Theo van Gogh (who is totally related to that guy who cut off his ear). Now, I gotta say this, because it’s important information. It was a 10 minute film. When was the last time you actually watched a 10 minute film? That’s what I thought...it’s pretty much the same for everybody. It wasn’t even especially well reviewed. So, we’ve essentially got a critically mixed box office flop that lasts a whopping 10 minutes.

Theo van Gogh was stabbed to death two months after the film was released and Ayaan Hirsi Ali is in the witness protection program.

Now, before you get up on your big ole high horse and start thinking how much better we Christians are -- what with our peace, love and freedom of speech...oh wait...I’m pretty sure Christians tried to get Harry motherfucking Potter banned from the library. Last night, my friend Ben Jack told me that a picket line screamed at him and told him that he was a bad person when he went into the movie theatre to see The DaVinci Code. Also, I’m pretty sure there’s this pastor in Arizona that’s been telling people to kill President Obama.

Does this sound like something Jesus would do or something Mohammed would do?

(Honestly, I really don’t care if that is what Mohammed would do, but if you’re offended by the statement, please declare a fatwa against me)

Now, perhaps you are like most Americans and all you know about Mohammed is that he was some Arabic guy who went to Mecca once. Allow me to enlighten you. Mohammed raped, killed, lied, cheated, stole, and owned slaves. Oh...and he was also a pedophile, I almost forgot that part. Furthermore, he condoned all of these things and told her followers to do all of these things, if necessary, to convert all of the world to Islam.

Sweet. Sounds like a man with a plan. Sign me up.

So, if I start calling you and your “Christian” friends Muslims...understand, that what I ACTUALLY mean is that you are modeling your life after Mohammed and not Christ, you asshole. The Muslim way of doing things is this: If I believe something that you do not believe, I must MAKE you agree with me.

Maybe I should make up a series of Jeff Foxworthy-esque Muslim jokes...maybe that’d get me a fatwa.

If you’ve ever led a revolution, killing hundreds of people just to remove a dictator, you might be a Muslim. (Che Guevara, Leon Trotsky, George W. Bush, Vladamir Lenin, William Wallace)

If you’ve ever burned a book because you found it offensive, you might be a Muslim.

If you’ve ever claimed that your God hates ANYONE, you might be a Muslim.

If you’ve ever physically or emotionally hurt someone because you feel like they deserved it, you might be a Muslim (ouch...I think that one makes me a Muslim)

If you’ve ever hurt someone to make your own life a bit more comfortable you might be a Muslim. (again...this is me)

Although, I guess, to be fair...I should be calling them Mohammedians rather than Muslims...the term Muslim means one who is submitted. It’s not really an insult to call some asshole “one who is submitted.” But to suggest that you’re kinda like this asshole who called himself a prophet so that he could do whatever the hell he wanted...yeah...I feel like that’s kind of an insult.

(Is this offensive enough to Muslims yet? Or am I gonna have to adapt the Satanic Verses into a screenplay and find somebody ballsy enough to produce it. Side note: several of Salman Rushdie’s publishers were murdered.)

Now, let’s move on to the weirdos, aka the Buddhists, Hindus (some of them), Sikhs, Taoists, Confucianists, Baha’i, and actually Scientologists, believe it or not. (I bet that “weirdo” label is making a little more sense, now). When we have a disagreement about something important, weirdos take the Eric Cartman stance: “Screw you guys, I’m going home.”

Most Eastern religions teach peace, love and harmony, same as the hippies. And, for the most part, they practice it. While the Christians and the Muslims were busy killing the crap out of each other in the crusades...the Buddhists were busy meditating on the flower and learning to walk on hot coals and stuff like that. In fact, when we Christians (cough Muslims cough) went over to the Chinese and Koreans to “open trade routes” they politely declined...citing the fact that they trusted us about as much as they trusted that guy in the hockey mask from the Friday the 13th movies.

We quickly pointed out that the Chinese and Koreans were dickbags who should totally trust us. We had already opened trade routes with Africans and Native Americans and they weren’t complaining.

So the Chinese and Koreans just did they’re own thing for a few hundred years.

You see, the key to understanding Eastern religion is the idea that happiness is found within. Islam (and Western Civilization) says that happiness comes from having cool stuff. Those guys and gals with the funny eyes have a bit better grasp on things than we do. They’re pretty sure that if you really want a bicycle and you think that a bicycle will make you happy...you’re wrong. You’ll be the same amount of happy with the bicycle as you will be without the bicycle...it has more to do with whether or not you’re content with what you have, if you’re happy with who you are. What weirdos! And when you think about it, a lot of pastors teach this kind of mumbo jumbo, and even a lot of atheists, who don’t even have the funny eyes, believe this kind of stuff! Also, there was this middle eastern carpenter who taught this kind of stuff...but what the heck did he know?

Only, fact of the matter is, this is a pretty difficult way of life to accomplish. It’s SOOOOO much easier to say, “No, no...I WOULD actually be happier if I had a bike (or a girlfriend, or a baby, or a bigger house, or a video game...etc)” than it is to say, “I am happy...regardless. And you know what...if I’m not happy...it’s not anybody else’s fault.” This is the genius of Eastern religions. This is where they are beating the crap out of us Christians at our own game. However, there is (in my never-humble opinion) a big flaw with this kind of thing.

Both Mohammed’s way and the Buddha’s way -- Assholism and Weirdoism -- are, at their core, philosophies on how to get what you want. The asshole way to get what you want is to find the best tactic that will allow you to get it. The weirdo way to get what you want is to say, “eh, I didn’t really need it all that much anyway.”

Christianity, or at least my personal take on it, exists outside of those rules.

If the question is, “How do I find happiness?”

In my imaginary world where people respond the way I want them to, the following three people would respond to this question as follows:

Mohammed: “You will find happiness by seeking it, and doing everything within your power to obtain it.”

Lao Tzu: “You will find happiness by realizing that happiness is already all around you.”

Jesus: “What?”

Me: “Hey, guys. How do I get what I want?”

Mohammed: “I don’t know. It depends on the situation.”

Confucius: “No, no, no. You’re thinking about it all wrong! The key isn’t getting what you want! It’s realizing that you don’t need it!”

Jesus: “Wait, I’m sorry. What was the question? I wasn’t paying attention.”

I’m pretty sure that at it’s root, Christianity is a religion that has absolution nothing to do with getting what you want or with being happy. Granted, I’m biased, because I’m a Christian. But my understanding of Jesus is that he was a guy who was focused on other people and making their lives better.

And I truly don’t think that anybody else who has ever lived has ever been so unselfish. Gandhi came close, but I’m pretty sure he was still a pretty crappy guy, just ask Penn and Teller. In fact, as I’ve mentioned before, I don’t believe there’s such a think as an unselfish act.

So maybe being Christ-like is impossible. Maybe there is no such thing as a “Christian.” I’m pretty sure everybody I’ve ever met in my entire life is floating somewhere in between being an asshole and a weirdo -- this even includes the Muslims and the Easterners -- we all prescribe to one of the three major world religions, regardless of what we call it...I know a lot of really awesome Muslims, who are TOTALLY not assholes. I know a lot of Taoists who are complete assholes. And I know a lot of Christians who have a lot more in common with Buddhists than with Joel Osteen.

So call me an asshole. It’s true.

Call me a weirdo. That’s true too.

But don’t call me a Christian, cause I’m not really living by his principals.

(but if calling myself a Christian helps to get me a fatwa, then holy shit, I’m a super-huge awesome Christian, and Mohammed sucks donkey dicks.)