Oh. My. God. Finally saw "The March of the Penguins" last night, and it was a lot more intense than I expected. In fact, it was one hell of a rollercoaster ride. One moment I was exposed to almost unbearable sweetness, the next truly unbearable savagery--rather like Mutual of Omaha's "Wild Kingdom," but on steroids.
All I can say is, "Thank goddess I'm not a penguin."
And if I die and come back as a penguin, I will know for sure that despite my best efforts to do God's will and all that rot, those religious right-wing nutjobs did know what they were talking about. And man, will that ever be a bummer.
It's kind of a drag having to wait until I die to find this out, but I'm glad there's at least one upside to death. No more wondering. Maybe that would look good on my grave marker (which I won't have, since I plan to be toasted one final time): "No longer wondering."
Still, I can't help but think that the God of my understanding, the God of "we are all God's children," "love thy neighbor" and "judge not lest ye be judged" is the Genuine Article, and the "God hates fags" deity is just someone a bunch of bigots put together to make themselves feel better.
The "I may be po' white trash, but at least I'm not a faggot!" school, if you will.
What is my school? Hmmmmm. "Well, I may be a middle-class, middle-aged, semi-employed dykesaurus, but at least I'm not a penguin."
That is more than enough philosophy for one day, don't you think?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment