Sign up for the New Religion. I take Paypal.

Things aren’t going well on the new religion front, and already it’s become clear that it’s going to be tough to sell the concept of undead poultry as the saviour of mankind. Strangely. A certain amount of conditioning has taken place to imprint the idea that zombies are the bad guys, based purely on the fact they try to kill and consume you.
The very same could be said for tigers, various virulent bacteria, small yappy dogs, and daytime television, yet people still love these things ( with the exception of the bacteria, who only seem to be adored by deeply unhinged scientists who’s eyes move independently in B movies ). Generally folk seem to frown on anything that doesn’t stay dead, with the exception of Jesus, who got away with it for the following 2 reasons:
1) He was a sandal-wearing hippy, and they tend not to be threatening in any way, and
2) He didn’t leap from his tomb and sink his teeth into Mary M’s forehead.

Our central deity, and I’ve decided this will be a monotheist religion, needs to be a benign figure. Poultry that attained enlightenment and achieved godly status by returning from the dead yet abstained from chowing down on grey matter. Marketing a brain-eater is way beyond my current capacity and I may have to wait until I’ve got a few more religions under my belt before I attempt that one.

The more you think about it and attempt to fine-tune the basics, the more insanely convoluted and implausible the whole issue becomes. Where does the religion stand on the issue of life after death? Or the seemingly more pressing issue of devout millinery?:

Where oh where to start?

And then, almost as if people at WordPress actually read my crap, in comes today’s prompt:
“If you were God, how would you have started it all? “
… and we suddenly have a kicking-off point.

Me, I wouldn’t want to be a God. Too much pressure, no holidays, too many complainers, and I suspect beards might be compulsory. Luckily, I’m not God though, I’m merely attempting to set up a fairly rickety platform for his / her fledgling believers to achieve… erm … whatever it is we’re aiming for but haven’t decided on yet.

Being a poultry-based religion ( Hentheism ? ) I can’t help thinking that in the beginning should be vast unimaginably huge endless nothingness. And an egg. I’ll stop here for 5 minutes while you try to get the poster for the movie “Alien” out of your head. Back with me? Good.

I even think I can get away with not explaining where the egg has come from, as Logic appears to be the spandex tights-wearing nemesis to Religion’s caped superhero. And vice versa, depending on your particular leanings. Me? I’m leaning on the fridge door hoping that Hubby will return from the shops with a huge bar of chocolate, but then I’m ( as yet undiagnosed ) cocoa dependant. Show me a religion that worships at the altar of Hot ChocFudge sauce and I’ll drop all this chicken shit in a heartbeat. I’m fickle that way.

From this impossible egg hatched, in a blaze of light and funky CGI effects, our God.. who in this case I have decided is going to be female. After all, she *is* a hen and not a rooster. And she shall be known as ….. Bernard. I’ve always been partial to the name and I’m not going to let a little thing such as gender bias ruin what is supposed to be a moment of etherial beauty.

Bernard’s years were long and lonely, with no company or cable tv, and finally in an act of divine inspiration Bernard plucked the feathers from her breast one by one and set them free. Each feather became a tree, a plant, a rock, a glimmering droplet of dew upon a newly created blade of grass.
And Bernard saw that it was beautiful and reached a state of true enlightenment.

Unfortunately for Bernard, with enlightenment came the realisation that she was, to coin a phrase, totally plucked. The combination of shock ( chickens are easily startled, and that’s why you won’t ever catch one in the queue at the cinema to see any of the “Saw” movies ) and extreme cold killed our budding deity stone dead.

She fell to her newly created Earth, where after 15 minutes ( which celluloid will have us believe is a fair average regeneration time period ) Bernard resurrected into The Benign But Pulse Disadvantaged Poultrygod we shall hopefully be devoting ourselves to in a financially advantageous ( to me ) way.

As creation stories go, it has it all. Drama, pathos, beautiful imagery and a complete void where a grounding in reality should be.

Truly, what more could a religion wish for?

 

 

Lead me not into temptation. I know a shortcut.

It’s probably best we don’t mention I took a 3 month “sick day”, yeah?
Good. I just *knew* I could trust you.

Today I’m going to write about religion. It’s not something I write about often ( if at all ) because in all honesty I don’t know much beyond the basics. This is quite possibly why I scribble the odd ( very odd, occasionally ) entry or two about zombie chickens. It’s so much  easier to appear authoritative when nobody else knows what on earth you’re talking about, and whilst I’m a hopeless liar I’m also an olympic – standard bluffer.
“Reanimated poultry flesh? Yeah man, bane of my life… ”
See? Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Props to me for being the only person on the planet to still be using that phrase.

So, religion.

For a long time I proudly declared I was an atheist. It was a new word I’d learned ( Remind me at some point in the future to tell you about my Schroedinger’s Cat obsession. I was am such a strange child ) and nobody was going to take it away from me. Not that anyone wanted to. Religious preference amongst the average pre-schooler tends not to carry much weight.
Kid 1 : I believe in God!
Kid 2 : I have Dora The Explorer knickers…look!
Kid 1 : Cool !!!!!
Spiritual analysis over. Pink lace trim 1 : Faith 0

Nobody really cared what I thought did or didn’t exist, so my skepticism went ignored. Just as well really, because once I gained access to an adult encyclopedia I discovered I was in fact agnostic instead. I would have felt very foolish had anyone been taking any notice of me beyond “There’s that strange, quiet, long dark-haired girl with the huge collection of fruit-scented erasers..” Such is my legacy.

Now, I’m not entirely sure whether my agnosticism is a natural extension of my inherent apathy. And naturally, I can’t bring myself to care. But I do know , whatever your religious views, I’m cool with it. I’d just like more folk to be nice to each other. And for cakes to be given free to hormonal women. But that’s another matter entirely.
Therefore, it was a little unusual to be discussing religion and money with my dear insane friend, Shelley, a few months back. Unusual because our conversational topics in rough order of frequency are :
1) Her genitals.
2) My constipation.
3) How kids in general are driving us crazy, and our kids in particular.
4) Her lack of beer.
5) Men, and how they can be dreadfully silly sometimes.
And so on. You know, girl talk.

Then she set me a task :
“shit.  it’s nearly 11pm.  tell you what,  you design a religion – its rules, major belief points, do’s and don’ts, etc.  don’t forget that each religion has a miracle of some sort in there, and a god that occasionally speaks to followers and maybe appears in different forms for proof of existence.
do a blog.
i don’t do well in yellow, so cross that colour out, btw.”
…and being my friend and knowing me very well, she never mentioned it again. I’m not good with deadlines, pressure, or commitment, so dropping the whole issue was the best possible way to get me to do it.

Then today’s prompt crowbarred itself into my mailbox:
“Do you prefer to lead or follow? Or neither? “
and my deranged chum’s directions sprang to mind. Obviously if you’re going to be starting up an entire new system of belief you’re going to be the leader. You’d have to be 2 cartons of coleslaw short of a KFC Family Feast not to, cos let’s face it… that’s where the big shiny piles of cash are. Besides, being an agnostic I might choke on the “following” part and I’m slightly more likely to sign up if they’re my rules.

Then it gets tricky. Try it yourself. Think of one thing you’d have as a written-in-stone rule ( see what I did there? Hahaha. ), and it will quickly dawn on you that’s it’s probably featured front page on a whole bunch of slightly more advanced religions, and your little one now seems the Faith equivalent of own-label store cola.
Suddenly you start to realise that to found an entirely different way to worship is going to take considerably longer than one blog post. And you, my lovely fluffy subscriber, realise I’m going to fob you off in installments again like I did with the whole zombie chicken thing….

Unless…

The Holy Church Of The Resurrected Poultry!

Genius.

Alas, I’m seeing yellow-feathered robes though. Sorry about that, Shelley.