Supplement- Crazy Christian Junk Snailmail

I got this in the mail the other day, and I thought I’d scan it and share the silliness with y’all. I think it’s going to mess up the page a little with the image width. Sorry ’bout that. I also apologize for my mad scanning skillz.

21233 is Baltimore. I know you were wondering.

The above image is the back of the damn envelope. The people who sent this may be crazy, but they don’t waste any space. The bolding/underlining insanity continues inside:

Maybe I’m just an internet nerd, but when I see bolded, underlined text, I think it’s a hyperlink. This thing has really random emphasis. PLUS ALL-CAPS. Hint: if you want to make sure people pay attention to your emphasized points, don’t use emphasis everywhere. It’s confusing. This is only tangentially related to my point, but when I see all-caps text, I imagine it being read by Morbo. Or Thundercleese. Or that I’m playing Chrono Cross and Zoah’s talking. Yes, I’m a huge fucking nerd. Turn to page 2!

I like that there’s a prayer checklist, although I’m confused by the “Confusion in my home” one. Is that a prayer to end confusion in the home or praying for confusion in the home? I also love that you can specify the dollar amount you need to be blessed with. I need a million dollars. Please pray for that. And if you don’t feel like checking a lot of boxes, there’s a helpful “All of the above” option. There were also some testimonials included:

Random money, pardons from judges, and “Son in Law Is Off Dope.” I’m convinced! Oh, but there’s more:

With art! I had some of those Bible story books when I was little, and I’m pretty sure they used the same illustrator as this. I’m sure you’re all wondering about the handkerchief they sent. Wonder no more:

That’s it. A piece of paper. Actually, the stock it’s printed on is closer to the placemats at cheap restaurants- kinda cloth-textured, but still paper. And it’s maaaagic! But you don’t get to keep it.

They keep telling us that the ministry was founded in 1951. As religious institutions go, that’s not that impressive. Guess who didn’t destroy the sacred, spiritual prophecy even after deciding not to mail in the placemat hanky and prayer checklist?

Jesus needs a haircut in this picture. Long is okay, but he’s venturing into mullet territory here. And a really limp-haired one at that. The page turns over to reveal YOUR SACRED PROPHECY:

It’s very hard to read caps lock. I know. I work with this shit. Not a lower-case letter in sight. Remember the thing about not wasting any space? Here’s the return envelope:

I wonder if there are different branches of this ministry, because it was mailed from Baltimore, but I’d be sending it to Tulsa. I’m not curious enough to actually look these people up, but I still wonder. I think they might be the same people who were sending a prayer rug a couple years ago. It was pretty much the same thing as the handkerchief, only maybe with a different pattern. Remember a decade or so ago when the National Enquirer had that blue dot every week that carried psychic powers? This is pretty much the same thing. Is there some sort of printing press blessing ceremony that makes all these mass-produced pieces of paper miraculous?

This was fun. I hope I get more crap I don’t want in the mail.

Reader-Submitted CCCE- Mmm… Donut

Reader Erin sent a few CCCEs; she says she gets a lot of them from her crazy aunts. Maybe I should tell some of my aunts my email address so they can send me CCCEs, because y’all, I have got some crazy-ass aunts. Here’s one about college that was written by someone who most likely never went to one.

The Donut Story
There was a certain professor of religion named Dr. Christianson, a studious
man who taught at a small college in the western United States. Dr.
Christianson taught a required course in Christianity at this particular
institution. Every student was required to take this course regardless of
his or her major.

Although Dr. Christianson tried hard to communicate the essence of the
Gospel in his class, he found that most of his students looked upon the
course as nothing more than required drudgery. Despite his best efforts,
most students refused to take Christianity seriously.

This year Dr. Christianson had a special student named Steve. Steve was only
a freshman, but was studying with the intent of going on to Seminary. Steve
was popular, well liked and an imposing physical specimen. He was the
starting center on the school football team and the best student in the
class.

One day, Dr. Christianson asked Steve to stay after class so he could talk
with him. “How many push-ups can you do?”

Steve said, “I do about 200 every night.”

“200? That’s pretty good, Steve,” Dr. Christianson said. “Do you think you
could do 300?”

“I don’t know,” Steve replied, “I’ve never done 300 at a time.”

“Do you think you could?” again asked the professor.

“Well, I could try,” said Steve.

“Can you do 300 in sets of 10? I have a class project and I need you to do
about 300 push-ups in sets of ten for this to work. Can you do it? I need
you to tell me you can do it,” said Dr. Christianson.

Steve said, “Well… I think I can… yeah, I can do it.”

Dr. Christianson said, “Good! I need you to do this on Friday. Let me
explain what I have in mind.”

Friday came and Steve got to class early and sat in the front of the room.
When class started, the professor pulled out a big box of donuts. Now these
weren’t the normal kind of donuts, these were the big fancy kind, with cream
centers and frosting swirls. Friday, the last class of the day, and they
were going to get an early start on the weekend with a party in Dr.
Christianson’s class.

Dr. Christianson went to the first girl in the first row and asked, “Cynthia
would you like one of these donuts?” Cynthia said, “Yes please.”

Dr. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, “Steve, would you please do
ten push-ups so that Cynthia may have a donut?”

“Sure.” Steve jumped down from the desk, did ten quick push-ups, and then
returned to his desk. Dr. Christianson put a donut on Cynthia’s desk.

Dr. Christianson then went to Joe, the next person, and asked, “Joe do you
want a donut?”
Joe said, “Yes.” The professor asked, “Steve would you do ten push-ups so
Joe can have a donut?”

Steve did ten push-ups and Joe got a donut. And so it went, down the first
aisle. Steve did ten push-ups for each person before he received a donut.

Dr. Christianson continued down the second aisle until he came to Scott.
Scott was on the basketball team, and in as good physical condition as
Steve. Scott was popular and never lacking female companionship. When the
professor asked, “Scott would you like a donut?”

Scott’s reply was, “Yes, if I can do my own push-ups.”

Dr. Christianson said, “No, Steve has to do them.”

Scott said, “Then I don’t want one”

The professor shrugged and then turned to Steve and asked, “Steve, would you
do ten push-ups so Scott can have the donut he doesn’t want?”

With perfect obedience Steve started to do the push-ups.

Scott yelled, “HEY! I said I didn’t want one!”

Dr. Christianson said sternly, “Look, this is my class, these are my desks,
and these are my donuts. Just leave it on the desk if you don’t want it” And
he put a donut on Scott’s desk.

Now by this time, Steve had begun to perspire and was starting to slow down
a little. He just stayed on the floor between sets because it took too much
effort to get up and down.

As Dr. Christianson started down the third row, many students were beginning
to get a little angry.

Dr. Christianson asked Jenny, “Jenny, do you want a donut?” Jenny’s answer
was a firm “No!”
Then Dr. Christianson asked Steve, “Steve, would you do ten more push-ups so
Jenny can have a donut that she doesn’t want?” Steve did ten…Jenny got a
donut.

By now, a growing sense of uneasiness filled the room. The students were
beginning to say “No” and there were all these uneaten donuts on the desks.
Steve also had to put forth a lot of extra effort to get these push-ups done
for each donut. There was a pool of sweat on the floor beneath his face and
his arms were beginning to turn red because of the physical effort being put
forth.

Because Dr. Christianson could no longer bear to watch Steve’s hard work go
for all these uneaten donuts, he asked Robert, the most vocal unbeliever in
the class, to watch Steve do each push-up to make sure he did all ten in
each set.

As the professor started down the fourth row, he noticed some students from
other classes had wandered in and sat down on the steps along the radiators
that ran down the sides of the room. He did a quick count and saw that there
were now thirty-four students in the room. He started to worry that Steve
would not be able to make it. He went on to the next person and the next and
the next. Near the end of the row, Steve was really having a hard time. It
was taking a lot more time to complete each set.

Just then, Jason, a recent transfer student, came to the room. He was about
to enter when at once all of the students yelled, “NO!! Don’t come in!!”
Jason didn’t know what was going on.

Steve picked up his head and said, “No, let him come.”

Professor Christianson said, “You realize that if Jason comes in you will
have to do ten push-ups for him?”

“Yes, let him come in. Give him a donut.”

Dr. Christianson said, “Okay Steve, I’ll let you get Jason’s out of the way
right now. Jason, do you want a donut?”

Not even knowing what was going on, Jason said, “Yes, I’ll have a
donut.”

“Steve, will you do ten push-ups so that Jason can have a donut?”

Steve did ten very slow and labored push-ups. Jason, bewildered, was handed
a donut and sat down.

Dr. Christianson finished the fourth row and started on the visitors seated
by the radiators. Steve’s arms were now shaking with each push-up in a
struggle to lift himself against the force of gravity. Sweat was profusely
dripping off of his face and there was no sound except his heavy breathing.
By this time, there was not a dry eye in the room.

The very last two students in the room were two young women, both
cheerleaders, and very well-liked. Dr. Christianson went to Linda and asked
if she wanted a donut.

Linda said, very sadly, “No, thank you.”

The professor quietly asked, “Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Linda
can have a donut she doesn’t want?” Grunting from the effort, Steve did ten
very slow push-ups for Linda.

The Dr. Christianson turned to the last girl, Susan “Susan, do you want a
donut?”

Susan, with tears streaming down her face pleaded, “Dr. Christianson, why
can’t I help him?”

Dr. Christianson, with tears of his own, explained, “No, Steve has to do it
alone. I have given him this task and he is in charge of seeing that
everyone here has an opportunity for a donut whether he wants it or not.
When I decided to have a party this last day of class, I looked at my grade
book. Steve is the only student with a perfect grade. Everyone else has
failed a test, skipped class, or offered up inferior work. Steve told me
that in football practice when a player messes up, he has to do push-ups. I
told Steve that none of you could come to the party unless he paid the price
by doing your push-ups. He and I made a deal for your sakes.

Steve, would you do ten push-ups so Susan can have a donut?”

As Steve very slowly finished his last push-up, with the understanding that
he had accomplished all that was required of him, having done 350 push-ups,
his arms buckled beneath him and he fell to the floor.

Dr. Christianson turned to the room and said, “And so it was, that our
Savior, Jesus Christ, plead to the Father, ‘into Thy hands I commend my
spirit.’ With the understanding that He had accomplished all that was
required of Him, He yielded up His life for us. And like some of those in
this room, many leave the gift on the desk, uneaten.”

Two students helped Steve up off the floor and to a seat, physically
exhausted, but wearing a thin smile.

“Well done good and faithful servant,” said the professor, adding, “Not all
sermons are preached in words.”

Turning to the class the professor said, “My wish is that you might
understand and fully comprehend all the riches of grace and mercy that have
been given to you through the sacrifice of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
God spared not His only begotten son, but gave him up for us and for the
whole world, now and forever. Whether we choose to accept His gift to us,
the price for our sins has been paid. Wouldn’t it be foolish and wouldn’t it
be ungrateful just to leave it laying on the desk?”

There is nothing in this story that even sounds true. Let’s start at the top. The professor’s name is Dr. Christianson, and he teaches a classon Christianity? How very Pilgrim’s Progress. Maybe I should change my last name to Heathenstrom.

Dr.
Christianson taught a required course in Christianity at this particular
institution. Every student was required to take this course regardless of
his or her major.

Oh really? This is a Christian school, right? Or at the very least a private school. Because you’d have a hard time floating a required course on Christianity that from the story seems to be an exercise in prostelyzation at a state school. Speaking of which, in what world is a religious studies professor actually religious? this guy was the chair of the Religious Studies department of my alma mater when I was there.

The professor shrugged and then turned to Steve and asked, “Steve, would you
do ten push-ups so Scott can have the donut he doesn’t want?”

With perfect obedience Steve started to do the push-ups.

Scott yelled, “HEY! I said I didn’t want one!”

Dr. Christianson said sternly, “Look, this is my class, these are my desks,
and these are my donuts. Just leave it on the desk if you don’t want it” And
he put a donut on Scott’s desk.

Okay, first of all, Doctor Fakenamerson, you’re being a prick. Second, no those aren’t your desks, they’re the university’s.

Because Dr. Christianson could no longer bear to watch Steve’s hard work go
for all these uneaten donuts, he asked Robert, the most vocal unbeliever in
the class, to watch Steve do each push-up to make sure he did all ten in
each set.

Okay, what? That doesn’t make sense. Instead of, say, stopping the exercise because poor Steve’s about to have a coronary in the middle of “his” classroom, the professor makes the biggest heathen in class count all his pushups?

As the professor started down the fourth row, he noticed some students from
other classes had wandered in and sat down on the steps along the radiators
that ran down the sides of the room. He did a quick count and saw that there
were now thirty-four students in the room…

Just then, Jason, a recent transfer student, came to the room. He was about
to enter when at once all of the students yelled, “NO!! Don’t come in!!”
Jason didn’t know what was going on.

Remember the part about the author of this piece (and I mean piece in every way possible) never having been to college? This pretty much proves my point. Unless there was a lot of noise filtering out into the hallway, students from other classes wouldn’t just wander into another room. And even if they did, they probably wouldn’t sit down; they’d stand at the back and gawk like normal people. Plus, how the hell many donuts did this guy bring? Presumably he knew how many students he had and could buy accordingly.

As for the second paragraph, “a recent transfer student”? At a college? At the end of a semester? Yeah, not so much. You can transfer to high school at the end of a semester, or middle school, or elementary school, but universities generally expect students to attend for an entire semester. I hope they prorated his tuition, because it seems like a waste of money to pay for a whole semester if you’re just transferring in at the end.

Turning to the class the professor said, “My wish is that you might
understand and fully comprehend all the riches of grace and mercy that have
been given to you through the sacrifice of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
God spared not His only begotten son, but gave him up for us and for the
whole world, now and forever. Whether we choose to accept His gift to us,
the price for our sins has been paid. Wouldn’t it be foolish and wouldn’t it
be ungrateful just to leave it laying on the desk?”

Dude, maybe I had a big breakfast. Or maybe I just don’t like donuts. Or maybe I think you’re being an asshole doing that to someone who’s done good things for you. But tell me this: did Dr. Appropriatelynamedson create Football-Playing Steve for the express purpose of making him do an asssload of pushups? Because that’s the story of Jesus. Made entirely to die for the sins of the world. That’s the guy’s whole purpose. To go around being all inspirational and then die. And inspire crappy musicals. Which then inspire funny Mr. Show sketches. I tried to find video for that one but couldn’t. I busted out the Season 1/2 DVDs and watched it though, and it was good.

Score this:
Attempting to promote religion through the use of analogy/metaphor/simile that makes it look unappealing to those outside the religion. Or in this case, through the use of sadism and fried dough.

Administrative Post

I joined Mojoey’s Atheist Blogroll. Welcome to those coming from there. And thanks to everybody who’s linked to me since the site got started. Positive feedback is a good thing.

Reader-Submitted CCCE: This Really Isn’t That Awesome

Reader Rachel sent this… thing. I hope you’re not using a slow connection, because there are a lot of graphics here.

Subject: This Is Awesome!

If I don’t get this back, I will know you really didn’t read it. I got this from someone and thought the last part was really a good thought.

Too bad that the person who sent it to me did
not know 10 people who would admit to knowing the Lord.

Do You Love Him?

This is a simple test:

IF YOU LOVE JESUS, SEND
THIS TO AT LEAST 10 PEOPLE, INCLUDING
THE PERSON WHO SENT IT TO YOU!

The Poem
I knelt to pray but not for long,
I had too much to do.
I had to hurry and get to work
For bills would soon be due.
So I knelt and said a hurried prayer,
And jumped up off my knees.
My Christian duty was now done
My soul could rest at ease…..
All day long I had no time
To spread a word of cheer
No time to speak of Christ to friends,
They’d laugh at me I’d fear.
No time, no time, too much to do,
That was my constant cry,
No time to give to souls in need
But at last the time, the time to die.
I went before the Lord,
I came, I stood with downcast eyes.
For in his hands God! held a book;
It was the book of life.
God looked into his book and said
“Your name I cannot find
I once was going to write it down…
But never found the time”

Now do you have the time
to pass it on?

Joy
I live in my own little world.
But it’s OK… They know me
Here!

If you look at what you do not have in life, you don’t have anything, If you look at what you have in life, you have everything.

Thomas Kinkade Paintings

(hope the water is moving!!)

Hope the water flows when you get the picture

READ THE FIRST LINE CAREFULLY. .

If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it.

Happy moments, praise God.
Difficult moments, seek God.
Quiet moments, worship God.
Painful moments, trust God.
Every moment, thank God.

This is a Thomas Kinkade painting. It’s rumored to carry a miracle!

The water is supposed to be running, so if it’s not moving then the picture

Didn’t come through entirely.

.

They say if you pass this on, you will receive a miracle.
I am passing this on because I thought it was really pretty,

And who couldn’t use a miracle?!

_____________________________________________________________________________

I put that line in there, just experimenting with a way to separate the email and my own text. Anyway, let’s get to business.

If I don’t get this back, I will know you really didn’t read it. I got this from someone and thought the last part was really a good thought. Too bad that the person who sent it to me did not know 10 people who would admit to knowing the Lord.

Well, that’s not very nice of the sender. And instead of my not really reading it, maybe you didn’t get it back from me because it’s a horrible, ugly email. Or maybe my spam filter caught it. Or maybe I don’t like you. Or maybe I don’t like sparkly text and I’m not really that impressed that you managed to find a site that would let you make sparkle-text gifs, because

And can we talk about the first picture, with Jesus holding a basket (wha?) kinda staring at the woman on the swing? She’s awaiting Christ’s return, according to that pillow/sampler/sign next to her, but she’s turned away from it, like maybe she’s about to get up and take those silly ribbons off her dress. The swing is hanging from a magic tree branch (where is the rope on the right side attached?) where it’s magically spring- those little helicopter things are on it, and fall- the leaves are turning color, at the same time. And I’m sorry, I don’t think Jesus is coming for you anytime soon, hon. It looks like he’s busy with his Easter basket there. Mmm, chocolate bunnies and Cadbury eggs.

Oh, anthropomorphized praying mouse, must you resort to puns?

The next portrait of Jesus was bothering me for a while, but I didn’t know why. Then I realized: That’s not Jesus, it’s Greg Evigan.
See? Evigan! Which, if Jesus actually existed (and I’m not saying he did,) he would have looked a little more like Paul Reiser.

As for the alleged Thomas Kinkade paintings, well, I’m calling bullshit there. The third one is Kinkade, yes. We’ve all seen that one, but the other two? The first picture is in no way, shape, or form a painting. It looks like a screenshot from a SNES game- an early one like Secret of the Stars. The second picture looks like a poster you can buy at those stores that sell rainsticks. And I can’t hear Thomas Kinkade and water mentioned together without remembering that time he got drunk and peed on Winnie the Pooh.

The Poem
I knelt to pray but not for long,
I had too much to do.
I had to hurry and get to work
For bills would soon be due.
So I knelt and said a hurried prayer,
And jumped up off my knees.
My Christian duty was now done
My soul could rest at ease…..
All day long I had no time
To spread a word of cheer
No time to speak of Christ to friends,
They’d laugh at me I’d fear.
No time, no time, too much to do,
That was my constant cry,
No time to give to souls in need
But at last the time, the time to die.
I went before the Lord,
I came, I stood with downcast eyes.
For in his hands God! held a book;
It was the book of life.
God looked into his book and said
“Your name I cannot find
I once was going to write it down…
But never found the time”

So you’re going to hell for being busy? Nice, Christianity.

This is a Thomas Kinkade painting. It’s rumored to carry a miracle!

It’s a gif. How’s it got a miracle in it? I don’t think that’s covered in steganography.

I shoot, I score! Points for:
- Graphics- Animated gifs, sparkly text, Thomas Kinkade
- Pass this along- If you aren’t ashamed!

I have a hypothesis about emails like this. I think that they start out as, say, one or two gifs and a poem. Then people get two or more of them at the same time and decide to put them together, leading to giant messy mashups like the last two CCCEs I’ve posted. At least I hope so. I really hope there aren’t people out there creating things like this from scratch. Because those people? Would be crazy.

I hope everybody had a happy Darwin Day.

Reader-Submitted CCCE: Praytriotism

Reader Ericka sent a bunch of good CCCEs, which I’ll be sharing over the next few days. The first one is kind of a mashup of a couple of things that make the rounds regularly. A big-print, graphics-intensive, misunderstanding-the-Constitution, well-meaning-but-horrid mashup. Look:

YOU BET I’LL PASS IT ON!!!!!!




I PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE
TO THE FLAG
OF THE UNITED STATES
OF AMERICA,
AND TO THE REPUBLIC,
FOR WHICH IT STANDS,
ONE NATION UNDER GOD,
INDIVISIBLE, WITH LIBERTY
AND JUSTICE FOR ALL!

I was asked to send this
on
if I agree or delete if I
don’t.
It is said that 86% of
Americans
believe in God.
Therefore I have a
very
hard time understanding
why there is such a
problem
in having
“In God We Trust”
on our money and
having
“God”
in the Pledge of Allegiance.



I AGREE!

PLEASE KEEP THIS GOING,
EVEN IF YOU HAVE PASSED IT ON BEFORE!!



Please send this on after a short
prayer!

Prayer wheel for our
Marines, soldiers, sailors,
coastguard, and airmen…
please don’t break it

“Dear Heavenly Father,
hold our troops in your loving
hands.
Protect them as they protect us.
Bless them and their families
for the selfless acts they perform
for us in our time of need.

Please stop a moment
and say a prayer for our troops
(land, air, and sea) in
Afghanistan, Kuwait,
Iraq and all around the world.




This can be very powerful…..
Just send this to people
in your address book.
Do not stop the wheel,
please…


















Of all the gifts you
could give our
U.S.Military,
prayer is the very
best one!






He already does.
John 3:16

Wow. I’ve done as good a job as I can in replicating that, but WordPress gets a little wonky with font sizes. Where to start? There’s the “send it on or kiss my ass” thing. That always gets me. I’m not allowed to disagree or call you out on your simpleminded bullshit? That’s why I have this site, because I don’t agree and I’m not just going to delete it. Then there’s this:

It is said that 86% of Americans believe in God. Therefore I have a very hard time understanding why there is such a problem in having “In God We Trust” on our money and having “God” in the Pledge of Allegiance.

Yes, person who wrote it, I’ll bet you do have a hard time understanding that, because I’ll bet you’re one of that 86%. But if it weren’t your preferred deity on the money and in the pledge, how would you feel? I realize that it’s very difficult for those with societal privilege to see themselves ever being in a situation without it, but just imagine if you will, what that might be like.

Dear Heavenly Father,
hold our troops in your loving
hands.
Protect them as they protect us.
Bless them and their families
for the selfless acts they perform
for us in our time of need.

Without going into a long diatribe about why I disagree with the war in Iraq and how there was never any danger to the US, I’ll just say that this war has left us less safe at home. Not only because blowing people’s houses up just contributes to anti-American sentiments in the region, creating more terrorists, but also because of who’s being deployed. The National Guard and Reserves are staffed by ordinary Americans, and many of those ordinary Americans have jobs in public safety- police officers, firefighters, and the like. With those people deployed, their departments back home, especially if they’re small departments in rural areas, have to operate with fewer employees, working longer shifts or having less coverage. While I’ll agree with the “performing selfless acts” part, and certainly share the author’s wish that all our servicepeople make it home safely, my freedom and safety are better defended by having fully staffed police departments at home.

Of all the gifts you
could give our
U.S.Military,
prayer is the very
best one!

I’m thinking not. Everybody I know who served in Iraq wanted baked goods and things like wet wipes and baby powder to help cope with the heat. Porn’s probably a pretty good gift, too. All I’ll say is I’ve heard stories of what’s available on the black market in Iraq.

He already does.
John 3:16

Who already does what? Okay, I think I know who, but that’s like scripture out of nowhere. This whole email was a big, wonderful mess.

Scoring:

-Multiple Fonts Used

-Multiple Colors Used
-That “I AGREE!” part was a sumbitch to code.

-Multiple Type Sizes Used

-ALL-CAPS SHOUTING!

-Graphics, Graphics, Graphics
Imageshack hates me now.

Pass This Along- If You Aren’t Ashamed!
-It’s more “pass this along if you agree, if not kiss my ass,” but it’s the same sentiment



Thanks for all the awful emails, Ericka! And since I’m kinda depressed by the discourse in this country that wants to make religion and patriotism synonymous- according to Google, I’m the first person to call it praytriotism- I like that word, let’s keep it going, here’s a link to Atheists in Foxholes.

CCCE- Jesus Is My Stalker

This CCCE is called “A Letter from Jesus.” It’s just, wow. That’s all I’ll say for now- read:

My Precious Friend,

I am sending you this letter by way of one of My disciples. I just wanted to let you know how much I love and care about you and how I greatly desire to become a meaningful part of your life.

This morning when you awoke I was already there with you in the light of My beautiful sunshine that filled your room. I was hoping that you would say good morning to Me: you didn’t. So, I thought maybe it just was just a little too early in the day for you to notice Me.

Again I tried to get your attention when you step out of your door. I kissed your face with a with a soft gentle breeze. I breathed upon you My fragrant sweet breath scented with flowers. Then I sang you a love song though the birds in the trees. You just walked right past Me.

Later on in the day, I watched over you as you were talking with some of your friends. Oh how I wished that you would talk to Me also. I waited and waited, but you just went along on your way.

This afternoon I sent you a refreshing shower and glistened to you from each raindrop. I even shouted at you a time or two with thunder, trying to get your attention. Then I panted you a lovely rainbow in the mist of my fluffy white clouds. I just knew you would see Me Then, but you were Unaware of my presence.

This evening to close your day, I sent you a beautiful sunset. After That, I winked at you a thousand times through my stars, hoping you would see Me and wink back, you never did.

Tonight when you went to bed, I spilled moonlight upon your face to let you know I was there with you. I was hoping you would talk to Me a little while before you went to sleep. You never said a word. It hurt Me deeply: however, I continued to watch over you all though the night thinking maybe, just maybe, you would say hello to Me in the morning.

Each and every day, I have revealed Myself to you in many strange and wonderful ways hoping you would accept Me as your shepherd. For I am the only one that can supply you with all your needs. My love for you is deeper than then the deepest ocean, bigger then the great blue sky. I have so very much to give to you and also to share with you. Please let Me hear from you real soon.

Your Loving Friend Forever,
Jesus

See what I meant up there? Wow. Jesus sure is needy. If one of my friends wrote a letter like that to me, I’d start trying to very gently ease them out of my life, because that’s the kind of friend who’s going to go all Single White Female on your ass when you try to stop hanging out with them. I’d save this letter just in case I needed it for evidence for the restraining order.

I like to think of the Christian god as an abusive parent- he’s very authoritarian, harshly punishes those who disobey the rules he sets up, demands that his children worship him, and on and on. Read these lists and tell me how many characteristics ol’ Yahweh exhibits. Why that’s appealing I’ll never know. The Jesus in this letter is more like an abusive partner. This is scary:

For I am the only one that can supply you with all your needs. My love for you is deeper than then the deepest ocean, bigger then the great blue sky. I have so very much to give to you and also to share with you.

Run away, change your name, do whatever you have to do to get away from this guy. Not only will he end up killing you when you won’t return his affections, he also doesn’t know the difference between “than” and “then.” And sometimes he just uses both.

This afternoon I sent you a refreshing shower and glistened to you from each raindrop. I even shouted at you a time or two with thunder, trying to get your attention. Then I panted you a lovely rainbow in the mist of my fluffy white clouds. I just knew you would see Me Then, but you were Unaware of my presence.

Uh, thanks Jesus, but I can “pant” my own rainbow with a garden hose on a sunny day. And you shouted at me through thunder? Through a sonic shock wave caused by the rapid heating and expansion of the air surrounding and within a bolt of lightning? Really? ‘Cause I speak English, along with some French and Spanish- not Thunder. If you could write me a creepy stalker letter in English, maybe you could talk to me, too, instead of just watching me sleep and “panting” (I’m not entirely convinced that’s not a Freudian slip) rainbows.

Gross. And not likely to win any converts, either.

Scoring:
Frequent grammar errors
Than/then confusion, random capitalization

Attempting to promote religion through the use of analogy/metaphor/simile that makes it look unappealing to those outside the religion.
No thanks, I don’t need an invisible stalker.

Me and God Are Like This!
Well, Jesus wants to be, but I don’t think I want that kind of relationship.

CCCE- I Do What the Voices Tell Me

This is the first piece of Crazy Christian mail I’ve gotten in my personal inbox in a while. And it’s special.

This will give you the chills……..GOOD chills.

A young man had been to Wednesday night Bible Study.

The Pastor had shared about listening to God and obeying the Lord’s voice.

The young man couldn’t help but wonder, “Does God still speak to people?”

After service he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the message.
Several different ones talked about how God had led them in different ways.

It was about ten o’clock when the young man started driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, “God…If you still speak to
people speak to me. I will listen. I will do my best to obey.”

As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought to stop and buy a gallon of milk.

He shook his head and said out loud, “God is that you?” He didn’t get a reply and started on toward home.

But again, the thought, buy a gallon of milk.

The young man thought about Samuel and how he didn’t recognize the voice of God, and how little Samuel ran to Eli.

“Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk.” It didn’t seem like too hard a test of obedience. He could always use the milk. He stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home.

As he passed Seventh Street, he again felt the urge, “Turn Down that street.”

This is crazy he thought and drove on past the intersection.

Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street .

At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh.

Half jokingly, he said out loud, “Okay, God, I will”.

He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop. He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in semi commercial area of town. It wasn’t the best but it wasn’t the worst of neighborhoods either. The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed.

Again, he sensed something, “Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street.” The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep. He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat.

“Lord, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid.” Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk.

Finally, he opened the door, “Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to be obedient. I guess that will count for something but if they don’t answer right away, I am out of here.”

He walked across the street and rang the bell. He could hear some noise inside. A man’s voice yelled out, “Who is it? What do you want?” Then the door opened before the young man could get away.

The man was standing there in his jeans and T-shirt. He looked like he

just got out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn’t seem too happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep. “What is it?”

The young man thrust out the gallon of milk, “Here, I brought this to you.”
The man took the milk and rushed down a hallway.

Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen.
The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying. The man had tears streaming down his face.

The man began speaking and half crying, “We were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn’t have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking God to show me how to get some milk.”

His wife in the kitchen yelled out, “I ask him to send an Angel with some.
Are you an Angel?”

The young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put in the man’s hand. He turned and walked back toward his car and the tears were streaming down his face.

He knew that God still answers prayers.

THIS IS A SIMPLE TEST….? If you believe that God is alive and well, send this to at least ten people and the person that sent it to you!!!!!!!!
This is so true. Sometimes it’s the simplest things that God asks us to do that cause us, if we are obedient to what He’s asking, to be able to hear. His voice more clear than ever. Please listen, and obey! It will bless you (and the world). Phil 4:13. This is an easy test, you score 100 or zero. It’s your choice.

If you aren’t ashamed to do this, please follow the directions. Jesus said, “If you are ashamed of me, I will be ashamed of you before my Father.”

Not ashamed Pass this on

As an aside, the original had a spiral notebook graphic on the left side, but I’m feeling too lazy to investigate how that was done and reproduce it. Let’s make fun of this stuff:

The man was standing there in his jeans and T-shirt. He looked like he
just got out of bed.

Oh, those crazy people in semi-commercial neighborhoods! Always sleeping in their jeans.

The man began speaking and half crying, “We were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn’t have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking God to show me how to get some milk.”

I don’t want to sound like some La Leche League crazy person, but fake lady, I can tell you how you can have milk for your fake baby for free. Plus, babies shouldn’t have cow’s milk until they’re a year old. If this imaginary baby is old enough to drink cow’s milk, it’s old enough to not have to.

This is so true. Sometimes it’s the simplest things that God asks us to do that cause us, if we are obedient to what He’s asking, to be able to hear.

I don’t think going to a store, buying a gallon of milk, driving into a neighborhood you don’t know, going to a complete stranger’s house and giving them the milk qualifies as “simple.” That’s a lot of steps. And I’m not sure about the first sentence. Is it “this is so true,” like “That happens all the time,” or is it “this is so true,” and if you don’t believe me you’re a stupidhead and I hate you?

If you aren’t ashamed to do this, please follow the directions. Jesus said, “If you are ashamed of me, I will be ashamed of you before my Father.”

Do people have to put this in every email they write? I realize that religion operates pretty heavily on guilt, but give it a rest. Hey, new scoring item!

Let’s score this bad boy:

Helping Those Who Can’t Figure Out How to Help Themselves
I don’t know about these people, but I make sure I can eat before I pay the rest of my bills, and I don’t even have a baby. I imagine if I did have kids, I’d make sure they were fed before, and possibly instead of, paying as many of my bills as necessary.

Pass This Along- If You Aren’t Ashamed

Attempting to promote religion through the use of analogy/metaphor/simile that makes it look unappealing to those outside the religion
Where I come from, people who hear a voice they think is a god and do what that voice tells them to do go for psych evals.

CCCE- In Memory of “Robby”

I found this one at a site called “Pass Out for Jesus,” which is not, I was disappointed to learn, a Christian autoerotic asphyxiation site. It just has a bunch of stories its readers are encouraged to send in emails or print out and hand out, you know, to pass out. For Jesus.

~ In Memory of “Robby” ~

At the prodding of my friends, I am writing this story. My name is Mildred Hondorf. I am a former elementary school music teacher from Des Moines, Iowa. I’ve always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons-something I’ve done for over 30 years. Over the years I found that children have many levels of musical ability. I’ve never had the pleasure of having a prodigy though I have taught some talented students.

However I’ve also had my share of what I call “musically challenged” pupils. One such student was Robby. Robby was 11 years old when his mother (a single Mom) dropped him off for his first piano lesson. I prefer that students (especially boys!) begin at an earlier age, which I explained to Robby.

But Robby said that it had always been his mother’s dream to hear him play the piano. So I took him as a student. W! ! ell, Robby began with his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavor.

As much as Robby tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to excel. But he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary pieces that I require all my students to learn.

Over the months he tried and tried while I listened and cringed and tried to encourage him. At the end of each weekly lesson he’d always say, “My mom’s going to hear me play someday.” But it seemed hopeless. He just did not have any inborn ability. I only knew his mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off or waited in her aged car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled but never stopped in.

Then one day Robby stopped coming to our lessons.

I thought about calling him but assumed because of his lack of ability, that he had decided to pursue something else. I also was glad that he stopped coming. He was a bad advertisement for my teaching!

Several weeks later I mailed to the student’s homes a flyer on the upcoming recital. To my surprise Robby (who received a flyer) asked me if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and because he had dropped out he really did not qualify. He said that his mother had been sick and unable to take him to piano lessons but he was still practicing. “Miss Hondorf . . . I’ve just got to play!” he insisted.

I don’t know what led me to allow him to play in the recital. Maybe it was his persistence or maybe it was something inside of me saying that it would be all right. The night for the recital came. The high school gymnasium was packed with parents, friends and relatives. I put Robby up last in the program before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a finishing piece. I thought that any damage he would do would come at the end of the program and I could always salvage his poor performance through my “curtain closer.”

Well, the recital went off without a hitch. The students had been practicing and it showed. Then Robby came up on stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked like he’d run an eggbeater through it. “Why didn’t he dress up like the other students?” I thought. “Why didn’t his mother at least make him comb his hair for this special night?”

Robby pulled out the piano bench and he began. I was surprised when he announced that he had chosen Mozart’s Concerto #21 in C Major. I was not prepared for what I heard next. His fingers were light on the keys, they even danced nimbly on the ivories. He went from pianissimo to fortissimo. From allegro to virtuoso. His suspended chords that Mozart demands were.

Magnificent! Never had I heard Mozart played so well by people his age. After six and a half minutes he ended in a grand crescendo and everyone was on their feet in wild applause.

Overcome and in tears I ran up on stage and put my arms around Robby in joy. “I’ve never heard you play like that Robby! How’d you do it? ” Through the microphone Robby explained: “Well Miss Hondorf . . . remember I told you my Mom was sick? Well, actually she had cancer and passed away this morning. And well . . she was born deaf so tonight was the first time she ever heard me play. I wanted to make it special.”

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house that evening. As the people from Social Services led Robby from the stage to be placed into foster care, noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy and I thought to myself how much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil.

No, I’ve never had a prodigy but that night I became a prodigy. . . of Robby’s. He was the teacher and I was the pupil For it is he that taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself and maybe even taking a chance in someone and you don’t know why.

Robby was killed in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995. And now, a footnote to the story.

Do I even have to tell you that it didn’t happen? At least these people cleaned it up a little. Des Moines is spelled right, Robby isn’t playing piano (in the Murrah Federal Building? Wha?) when he dies. Still sappy bullshit, though. Select quotes:

Overcome and in tears I ran up on stage and put my arms around Robby in joy. “I’ve never heard you play like that Robby! How’d you do it? ” Through the microphone Robby explained: “Well Miss Hondorf . . . remember I told you my Mom was sick? Well, actually she had cancer and passed away this morning. And well . . she was born deaf so tonight was the first time she ever heard me play. I wanted to make it special.”

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house that evening. As the people from Social Services led Robby from the stage to be placed into foster care, noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy and I thought to myself how much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil.

Couple things wrong here: enjoying music is pretty much culturally dependent. With the exception of percussion, which is common to all cultures and can mimic rhythms found in nature, like a heartbeat, a listener has to already be used to the type of music being played. It’s why old people don’t listen to rap and some Americans might not enjoy Chinese opera. It just isn’t what they’re used to. So why would a woman who’s been deaf since birth enjoy a Mozart piano piece now that she’s dead and can hear? That seems like a detail that wouldn’t sit well with the Deaf community. I’ll tell you what would have been a better story: if Robby had taken vocal lessons to impress his dead deaf mom. Then she would have gotten to hear the sound of his voice. That would at least make sense. Another thing that doesn’t make sense is that Robbie’s going to foster care now that his mother’s dead. She had cancer- she knew she was dying, Robbie knew she was dying, why didn’t she make arrangements for his care? Did she have no relatives or friends able to take the kid in? And why did the Social Services people come onto the stage to take Robby to foster care? They could have at least waited until he got offstage and had a chance to talk to people and, like, get some cookies and punch at the back. That was just adding insult to injury.

And now, a footnote to the story.

I think whoever edited this didn’t do a good enough job excising the “OMG and he was playing PIANO when he died!!1″ part, because why does the last sentence start with “and” and promise a footnote? Unless you’re Paul Harvey (and if you are Paul Harvey, dude, you’re 88 and haven’t been relevant, well, ever, so you can go ahead and retire,) don’t end your story with an “and” sentence.

Scoring:
Severe and frequent grammar/spelling/punctuation errors
-I don’t know if they’re formatting errors or what, but there’s some random capitalization going on here.

Snopes (and every other debunking-type site) presence

Out of the mouths of babes
-I’m going to go ahead and call it that, because we’re supposed to all say “Aww, he wanted his Mommy to hear him play up in heaven.”

CCCE Non-Scoring Round- God, Be in Me

This is one I found online. I’m not subjecting it to my scoring system; I just wanted to share it because I found it kinda funny. Apparently, I’m twelve.

God, Be In Me
~original text author unknown~

God, be in my head,
And in my understanding.

God, be in my eyes,
And in my looking.

God, be in my mouth,
And in my speaking.

God, be in my heart,
And in my thinking.

God, be at my end,
And at my departing.

Amen

Hee, dirty. I mean, “God, be in my mouth” and “God, be at my end.” I thought Christians didn’t do those things. I do take issue with “God, be in my eyes,” because that hurts.

New Reader Submitted CCCE- Do You Smell That?

::Oh, for fuck’s sake, this didn’t get published when I finished it? That’s what I get for not checking the site after I update. I apparently finished this November 10, and it’s just now getting published. Sorry ’bout that.::

This reader submission is a piece I’d heard about but hadn’t seen in its full form. It was sent in by Tamara. Thanks Tamara!

Do You Smell That?

—– At the end of this story, it gives you two options.
I think you will figure out what option I chose.

A cold March wind danced around the dead of night in Dallas as the doctor walked into the small hospital room of Diana Blessing. She was still groggy from surgery.

Her husband, David, held her hand as they braced themselves for the latest news.

That afternoon of March 10, 1991, complications had forced Diana, only 24-weeks pregnant, to undergo an emergency Cesarean to deliver couple’s new daughter, Dana Lu Blessing.

At 12 inches long and weighing only one pound nine ounces, they already knew she was perilously premature.
Still, the doctor’s soft words dropped like bombs.

“I don’t think she’s going to make it,” he said, as kindly as he could.

“There’s only a 10-percent chance she will live through the night, and even then, if by some slim chance she does make it, her future could be a very cruel one.”

Numb with disbelief, David and Diana listened as the doctor described the devastating problems Dana would likely face if she survived.

She would never walk, she would never talk, she would probably be blind, and she would certainly be prone to other catastrophic conditions from cerebral palsy to complete mental retardation, and on and on.

“No! No!” was all Diana could say.

She and David, with their 5-year-old son Dustin, had long dreamed of the day they would have a daughter to become a family of four. Now, within a matter of hours, that dream was slipping away.

But as those first days passed, a new agony set in for David and Diana.

Because Dana’s underdeveloped nervous system was essentially ‘raw’, the lightest kiss or caress only intensified her discomfort, so they couldn’t even cradle their tiny baby girl against their chests to offer the strength of their love. All they could do, as Dana struggled alone beneath the ultraviolet light in the tangle of tubes and wires, was to pray that God would stay close to their precious little girl.

There was never a moment when Dana suddenly grew stronger.
But as the weeks went by, she did slowly gain an ounce of weight here and an ounce of strength there.

At last, when Dana turned two months old, her parents were able to hold her in their arms for the very first time. And two months later, though doctors continued to gently but grimly warn that her chances of surviving, much less living any kind of normal life, were next to zero, Dana went home from the hospital, just as her mother had predicted.

Five years later, when Dana was a petite but feisty young girl with glittering gray eyes and an unquenchable zest for life. She showed no signs whatsoever of any mental or physical impairment. Simply, she was everything a little girl can be and more. But that happy ending is far from the end of her story.

One blistering afternoon in the summer of 1996 near her home in Irving, Texas, Dana was sitting in her mother’s lap in the bleachers of a local ball park where her brother Dustin’s baseball team was practicing.

As always, Dana was chattering nonstop with her mother and several other adults sitting nearby when she suddenly fell silent Hugging her arms across her chest, little Dana asked, “Do you smell that?”

Smelling the air and detecting the approach of a thunderstorm, Diana replied, “Yes, it smells like rain.”

Dana closed her eyes and again asked, “Do you smell that?”

Once again, her mother replied, “Yes, I think we’re about to get wet. It smells like rain.”

Still caught in the moment, Dana shook her head, patted her thin shoulders with her small hands and loudly announced, “No, it smells like Him.

It smells like God when you lay your head on His chest.”

Tears blurred Diana’s eyes as Dana happily hopped down to play with the other children.

Before the rains came, her daughter’s words confirmed what Diana and all the members of the extended Blessing family had known, at least in their hearts, all along.

During those long days and nights of her first two months of her life, when her nerves were too sensitive for them to touch her, God was holding Dana on His chest and it is His loving scent that she remembers so well.

You now have 1 of 2 choices. You can either pass this on and let other people catch the chills like you did, or you can delete this and act like it didn’t touch your heart like it did mine.

IT’S YOUR CALL!

“I can do all things in Him who strengthens me.”

This morning when the Lord opened a window to Heaven, He saw me, and He asked: “My child, what is your greatest wish for today?” I responded:

“Lord please, take care of the person who is reading this message, their family and their special friends. They deserve it and I love them very much” The love of God is like the ocean, you can see its beginning, but not its end.

I did some research on this one, and it’s apparently (kind of) true. But while it’s based on a true story, and it’s really great that the little girl overcame the odds and has lived a healthy, happy life, it doesn’t make the story any less annoyingly sappy. Plus, it comes from one of the “Chicken Soup for the __” books, and those are just awful.

So, quotes:

Before the rains came, her daughter’s words confirmed what Diana and all the members of the extended Blessing family had known, at least in their hearts, all along.

During those long days and nights of her first two months of her life, when her nerves were too sensitive for them to touch her, God was holding Dana on His chest and it is His loving scent that she remembers so well.

One reason I like little kids is that they’ll just say random shit sometimes. They do that because their brains aren’t fully developed, and they’re processing the complicated stimuli of the outside world as well as they can. Adults shouldn’t take these things seriously, but when you believe there’s an invisible man living in the sky you’ll buy just about anything.

You now have 1 of 2 choices. You can either pass this on and let other people catch the chills like you did, or you can delete this and act like it didn’t touch your heart like it did mine.

I’m not acting like it didn’t touch my heart- I’m telling you that it didn’t.

Sorry about the lack of quotes here. I started the post yesterday evening, went to work intending to finish it on meal break, then had to leave to deal with a family medical emergency and just got back into town. Here’s the scoring:

Color
-I’m learning a lot of html formatting some of these emails for the site.

Appeared on Snopes
-Sure it was true, but it’s there.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Me and God are Like This!