Personal

The stuff about me and my life. The “diary” side of blogging.

The Heirophant’s Proselytizer Questionnaire

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Ellenoir pointed out a fascinating page that I’d not seen before: The Heirophant’s Proselytizer Questionnaire, one person’s response to being constantly harassed by missionaries of one faith or another trying to “save” or “convert” him.

The Heirophant’s Proselytizer Questionnaire is a series of offensively phrased questions that explain my problems with and objections to the various Christian churches. I originally wrote it in 1997 as a tool that I handed out to the too-numerous proselytes who were crowding at my door, explaining that I would consider entering into a dialogue with them if and only if they could answer each and every question to my satisfaction. …Though I have received numerous responses to the Questionnaire since I wrote it, none has satisfied me enough to tempt me back to Christianity.

The questionnaire itself is a list of 153 questions for the proselytizer to answer before discussion can continue. The author admits in the FAQ that the questions are written in a very aggressive, possibly offensive style…

…It’s meant to be really offensive. If you look at the reasons why I composed it in the first place, you’ll see that my primary motivation was, quite simply, to get proselytes to fuck off when they wouldn’t do so any other way. By setting a condition for them to fulfill before I’d engage in a dialogue with them and by making the condition more trouble than it was worth to most of them, I wound up able to sleep later in the mornings than I’d been able to when I had a constant stream of preachers on my doorstep. Ensuring that the phrasing of the Questionnaire was confrontational and offensive was an integral part of the process of getting people who had essentially nothing to say to me to leave me alone.

As someone brought up in the Episcopal church who still bases many of my core beliefs in the Christian faith (though I’ve certainly had my fair share of questions, concerns, and doubts over the years), I thought the idea was wonderful — and have no problem at all admitting that I would be very hard pressed to answer many (if not most) of the questions posed.

On a personal level, I stand very much in the same camp as the author (along with Ellenoir, too, from what she said in her post): believe anything you want, just don’t try to force your beliefs on me, convince me that you’re “right” and I’m “wrong”, or attempt to frighten me into joining your religion through threats of hellfire and damnation.

This document is not meant as a personal challenge to you or to your beliefs. As far as I’m concerned, you can worship Jesus or be a Buddhist or a Muslim or have sex with Tinky Winky and call that a religion: It’s all the same to me. Really. The HPQ was meant to state my own reasons why I’m not a Christian; it’s not meant to imply that you shouldn’t be one. (There’s a big difference between the two, and many Christians would do well to learn it.) Be a member of whatever religion you want; just leave me alone and don’t push it on me. I’m not knocking on your door asking you to be a Wiccan or a Buddhist or a Satanist or an atheist or a Muslim or anything else that you’re not; all that I ask is that you extend me the same courtesy.

iTunes: “Blasphemous Rumours” by Depeche Mode from the album Blasphemous Rumours (1984, 6:23).

T minus one month and counting

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The first few days in May were usually busy days in my family. My birthday is May 3rd (I’ll be 31 this year), my little brother Kevin’s is the next day (we’re three years and one day apart — he’ll be 28), and my best friend from fourth grade on, Royce, has his birthday on the 5th (he’ll be 31 also).

While I’m sure there were some times when Kevin and I had separate parties, there were many, many years of joint parties also. Often my mom had the unenviable task of handling these more or less on her own, too — dad was flying in the Air National Guard, and his “one weekend a month” happened to fall on the first weekend, so he often had to leave mom to handle two excited little kids while he went off flying.

One year, on a whim, I entered a “guess the number of jellybeans in the jar” contest at the Anchorage Chuck-E-Cheese, and wonder of wonders, I actually won! The prize was a free birthday party, so that year Kevin and I had our parties officiated over by a giant rat. As Chuck-E-Cheese is a pizza parlor, mom and dad had an idea that “seemed like a good idea at the time”, and when the pizza arrived, they popped birthday cake candles into the pizza instead of into a cake. We laughed, blew them out, and started gobbling down slices of pizza.

Unfortunately, what parents hadn’t thought about was the heat of the pizza. While the candles were sitting in the pizza, not only were they melting from the top down due to the flame…but from the bottom up, too. I can’t really recommend a pepperoni-and-candle-wax pizza. It’s a bit more chewy than pizza is supposed to be.

iTunes: “Teclo” by Harvey, P.J. from the album To Bring You My Love (1994, 4:58).

Sick

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Well, I survived my three days of long hours helping out at one of the other stores in the area (up at 6am, out the door at 7am to catch a 7:15am bus to Redmond, work from 8am – 3:45pm, catch the 4pm bus back to downtown Seattle, then the 5pm bus out to Georgetown, work from 5:30pm – 9:15pm, catch the 9:30pm bus home, get home about 10pm and fall over soon thereafter). Unfortunately, pushing myself that hard seems to have resulted in my picking up a really nasty little bug (stuffed up head, bad cough, general full-body exhaustion, etc.). I’m not thrilled about this.

Ah, well…I’ll bulldoze my way though work tonight, then come home and do my best to enjoy a weekend with nothing planned except lots and lots of sleep. Not the most exciting plan in the world, but it sure sounds good to me right now.

iTunes: “Ono Soul” by Moore, Thurston from the album Buy-Product (1995, 3:29).

This is boring?

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I, along with many (most?) people, have a tendency to lament about how boring my life is. After all, my general day-to-day routine is usually just that: routine. I get up, dink around on the ‘net, go to work, come home, dink around on the ‘net, and go to bed.

Repeat, ad infinitum, ad naseum.

While talking to one of my regular customers tonight, though, we both started laughing.

Over the past six months, I’ve bought a top-of-the-line computer, been dismissed from my job for posting a photograph on my blog, caught some small amount of fame because of that event (which isn’t over yet — I’m not going to divulge too many details just yet, but I did spend a few hours over a couple nights being interviewed last week…), been able to watch two fires at the building next door, seen Howard Dean, had my website design appropriated twice, seen my little brother get married, been served a “cease and desist” letter for my participation in the Grey Day project, lost my camera, and now I’m working three 13-hour days in order to get a little more money to replace the lost camera.

Not bad for a “boring life”, is it?

iTunes: “My World (Visual Valley)” by van Dyk, Paul from the album Goa Rave (1994, 4:16).

A visit from the geek*muffin

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My friend Kirsten has been in town this weekend, stopping over here on her way out to a conference for her work. Had a wonderful time hanging out with her (and Prairie, who came in to visit for a while too), wandering around town, chatting, hitting the Vogue, and just generally visiting. She’s now off to the airport to continue her trip, and I’m back to my usual bleary morning routine.

The rest of this week is going to be really long. The company I work for is a chain, and there was a chance for me to pick up some extra hours at one of the other stores — and since a little extra money is a good thing in my world, I signed up for it.

This means that for the next three days, I’ll be getting up around 6am, catching a 7am bus to Redmond, working at a store out there from 8am to 3pm or so, bussing back into Seattle and then down to Georgetown, and working at my store ’til close at 9, then taking my usual bus home and getting home around 10pm or so.

Ugh.

It’s going to be a long three days…but the hours of OT should be very nice when the paycheck rolls around.

Things may be a bit quiet here for this week (not that they’ve been all that active lately, admittedly, but hey…everyone hits a “slow point” every so often).

iTunes: “Intro” by K.M.F.D.M. from the album WWIII (2003, 4:36).

Time for a little blatant self-promotion

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A few times in the past, I’ve come up with ideas that amuse me, and I’ve put a couple of them onto t-shirts (and other gear) through CafePress. Unfortunately, they only got a few days of exposure after they went up, as their announcement posts scrolled off the main page of my site and into my archives.

I’ve finally rectified that, though, by adding links to all of my existing CafePress items on my ‘Elsewhere’ page. If I’m really lucky, a few more people will find them, get a laugh, and I’ll get a few more sales.

Worth trying, right?

iTunes: “I Give to You” by Nitzer Ebb from the album Earphoria (1991, 5:07).

The Need for Speed

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My parents gave me my first car, in my family’s usual style. For my birthday that year, mom and dad handed me a wrapped present, about the size of a shoebox. I unwrapped it to discover the expected shoebox, took off the top — and found a stuffed bunny with its eyes X-ed out with yarn.

A little confused, I raised my eyebrows. “A dead bunny?”

“Close. A dead rabbit.” And dad handed me the keys to his 1981 VW Diesel Rabbit, currently parked out on the street awaiting brake repairs.

I loved that car. I’d learned to drive in my friend Rod’s VW Cabriolet — basically a convertible Rabbit — so I was quite comfortable behind the wheel of that little car. Bright yellow, five-speed manual transmission, a sunroof — and diesel powered, which at that point, was truly a beautiful thing. No emissions tests to worry about, no spark plugs to struggle with, and gasoline was under a dollar a gallon back then.

Now, being a diesel, speed was not high on the list of features on this car. I think the best I ever managed to coax it was around 85 mph, heading downhill (the big run down into Eagle River from Anchorage, just before you cross over the bridge, for all you Anchorage-area readers) with a tailwind. Realistically, this was probably a good thing, as I really enjoy driving, and if there’s a good song on the stereo…well, having a fairly low top speed probably saved me a few tickets over the years. ;)

However, as fun as high speed can be, it’s often no real contest against someone who knows how to drive and how to handle their car in various road conditions.

One winter day, I was sitting at a stoplight in Anchorage, heading down Northern Lights Boulevard towards the airport, when a guy and his girlfriend pulled up beside me in some fancy little go-faster. I looked over, and apparently he took my glance as a challenge, as he looked somewhat disdainfully at my little Rabbit, and lightly gunned his engine.

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

So I gunned mine. He revved his engine up, and I did the same. After a moment, the light changed, he stomped on the gas — and went absolutely nowhere as his tires spun wildly on the icy street. Meanwhile, I lightly touched the gas and pulled forward, handily making it through the light before he had even managed to coax his little sports car into movement.

He caught up just in time for us to hit the next stoplight, and he started revving his engine again. I laughed — once wasn’t enough?

Apparently not. My little Rabbit beat him off the line three stoplights in a row. He was getting more aggravated with each attempt, and I was getting more and more amused.

Eventually, we made it to the intersection of Northern Lights and Minnesota. This being a more major intersection in Anchorage, the streets weren’t quite as icy, and by now he’d actually started to figure out what he was doing wrong. We sat at the intersection, watching traffic move by in front of us, each of us occasionally glancing over to the other car.

The crosswalk light switched from “WALK” and started blinking “DON’T WALK”. Engines revved up a bit.

“DON’T WALK” turned solid, and the traffic light on Minnesota went yellow.

Red light. Engines were gunned — this was it.

Green.

He pulled out, this time keeping control and starting slowly, letting his tires gain traction. I did the same, pacing him for the first half block, then starting to fall behind as his more powerful car started to gain speed. At the end of the first block, as he started to pull noticeably ahead of me, we hit the crest of a hill — and while he let his car leap forward, using the downhill slope to give him one last advantage, I tapped my breaks, let myself fall behind him, and watched his car go flying down the hill.

And a few minutes later, I gave him a jaunty wave as I passed by him one last time. I must say, those pretty little white sports cars do reflect the red-and-blue lights of the police cruisers quite nicely as they sit by the side of the road, waiting for the officer to write out their speeding ticket.

(This was inspired by The wrath of the Evil Elle\~Noir.)

Just curious

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I sometimes wonder how people would react to a Biblical film cast entirely with actors from that area of the world. I’d love to see the reaction…or, rather, the reactions across different areas of the globe. No matter how good the film was, I’m quite curious as to how (speaking very generically here) middle America and the Bible Belt would react to a Jesus that was swarthy, with dark, short, curly hair — who looked like Jesus probably really looked like, in other words.

In other words, like the people that our government is doing its best to make sure we’re scared to death of.

iTunes: “Natural” by Arrested Development from the album 3 Years, 5 Months and 2 Days in the Life of… (1992, 4:30).