Monday, February 8, 2010 by angel.

I was watching television with my mom a while back, when this Geico commercial aired. “Oh Golly,” my mom said, visibly distressed and protectively crossing her arms in front of her chest, a move she usually reserves for a kissing scene or any reference to homosexuality.

Having observed neither of the above-mentioned offenses, I was confused. Could my mother be upset at Geico’s diminishing the racism experienced by millions every day? Could my mother be broadening her viewpoints, empathizing with others? What would be next - would she let my gay cousin visit her house? Almost excited, I asked, “What’s bothering you?”

“Oh, nothing,” my mom said with a huff. In my peripheral vision, I noticed my brother waving his arms. I glanced his way while prodding my mother for more information, understanding his silent don’t-ask gestures a bit too late. “Well,” my mom began, and my brother dropped his head into his hands.

“I don’t believe in cave men,” my mom spat.

“Oh,” my disappointment was evident. I looked to my brother. His hands were in a prayer-like fold. Please, let it go, he was urging.

I did.

For like two more commercials. “You know, I saw the coolest documentary the other day.”

“Really? What was it about?” Mom was interested, my brother eyed me suspiciously.

“Dinosaurs,” I replied. My brother sighed, stood, and left the room.

“You see, collagen-proteins have linked birds to dinosaurs, and scientists are studying those dinosaur-like traits that birds still carry in their DNA. One scientist has been able to isolate certain proteins in embryonic chickens so that they develop dinosaur-like tails. Pretty neat, huh?”

My mother looked at me, flabbergasted, for a full three minutes. By her blinking eyes, I knew she was still conscious.

Suddenly, she raised her arms in the air as though telling traffic to her right and her left to stop. “All I know,” she began triumphantly, “is they thought there would be a whole lot of dust on the moon because it’s sooooooooo old, and there was only a few inches.”

I watched her smile for about 10 seconds before speaking again.

“Dinosaur tails, Mom. Dinosaur tails.”

Posted in Evangelism Evasion!, Science! | Print | 1 Comment »

Tuesday, December 22, 2009 by angel.

One of the best (and most fun) ways to thwart a would-be witness of the Lord Jesus from killing an hour or more of your day is to fake a demon possession.

Now, before you scoff at the idea of faking the possession of your eternal soul by demonic forces, consider the plight of the fundies and the struggles they face on a daily basis. They have regular conversations with a Jewish guy who died thousands of years ago, and he NEVER calls them back. Have you no empathy? No compassion? These people are hanging on by a very thin thread, my friend. And you have an opportunity to imbue their faith with renewed meaning (while conveniently averting yet another if-you-died-today conversation).

Besides, who’s to say you’re not possessed? You did turn your back on the big G-O-D some time ago; so maybe you are being used by Satan. May as well roll with it.

(Deep multi-layered voice) Fulfill your destiny, my child!

Faking your demon possession is actually a lot easier than you might think. The key to its proper implementation is two-fold: subtlety and consistency. We here at TFF have broken down the whole process into a few simple steps - six, actually. It’s our favorite number (especially when written in triplicate). We assume NO responsibility for the outcome of your demon possession, but we’re pretty damn sure you’ll get a great story out of it.

Step One: Make Contact

Generally, this step is up to the missionary-minded fundie. Almost invariably they will strike up a conversation with you about your shirt, the weather, the grocery store line, or some other incidental observation. Depending on how deeply involved you were in soul-winning back in your fundie days, you may be able to spot these Christ converters well before they approach you. If that’s the case for you (as it is for us) then you can really have a lot of fun. Try to seem not to notice them, but listen intently. Memorize as many names or specific details as possible (they’ll be saying them loudly enough - especially the name of their church or pastor). Once you have that info neatly tucked away, go ahead and make eye contact - by chance, of course.

For those of you who were more pew-warmers back in the day, here are three red flags that you’re dealing with a witnessing fundie (or a pyramid schemer):

• Unnaturally consistent grin. This smile has been practiced and plastered day after day and will remain no matter what the interaction. Often, the smile does not actually affect the shape of the eyes, which appear frozen in forced contentment.
• Banter with associates that is much louder than necessary. The fundie will often try to encourage interaction with others by acting overly friendly with his/her cohorts, and speaking so that the entire world is included in the conversation.
• Purposefully attempting to make “coincidental” eye contact with strangers. Keep in mind, these strangers (of whom you are one) are being scouted by the fundie. S/he will try to make eye contact at least 3 times before saying something like, “I couldn’t help but notice [insert some observation about you here].”

At this point, you could shrug off the interaction and exit as quickly as possible OR you could commit - and we mean seriously commit - to faking your own demon possession and continue on to step two.

Step Two: Decide Your Exit Strategy

We cannot stress this enough. If you are going to convincingly pretend to be the embodiment of evil, you MUST have a clear exit strategy. TFF encourages you to make sure you stay in a public place; do NOT let the fundies surround you (unless you’re prepared to fake your exorcism as well - NOT RECOMMENDED); decide how and when you intend to exit right off the bat - stick to your decision; always make sure you have a clear path to the exit.

Step Three: Establish a Rapport

Engage in chit-chat. “Why yes, my sweatshirt is from UCF; how nice of you to notice.” Let the conversation amble along as they steer it toward spirituality. During the initial conversation, you should be attempting to develop a rapport with them. The more subdued and quiet/calm you seem at the onset, the easier it will be to make your demonic alter-ego stand out. Try to take the opportunity to have several exchanges with your would-be-witness BEFORE they mention G-d, Church, Jesus, or anything remotely related to their faith.

Step Four: Encourage Paranoia

This step comes into play when the fundie first starts initiating the topic of the hereafter. Develop a physical twitch of some sort at any mention of spirituality, heaven/hell, the Bible, church, etc. A head jerk, eye twitch, double blink, weird leg shake, a bark - whatever you want, but only use one at first. Be subtle, but be CONSISTENT. If they ask you about the twitch, pretend you didn’t hear them. If they’re persistent, act as though you don’t know what they’re talking about. Your established human persona should not be aware of ANYTHING your demonic alter-ego does.

Step Five: Build Momentum

As the fundie begins talking specifically about G-d, the Holy Spirit, salvation, or Jesus (especially Jesus), exaggerate your twitch and spice it up with a look of pain here or there. Let the tension build and begin adding on to it by muttering things under your breath at inappropriate intervals in an audible growl, “We know who you are,” “Abaddon will crush you,” or whatever comes to mind. Make the tone and personality VERY different from that of your human persona, and try to be creative. Feel free to improvise with some latin profanity or by sprinkling in the names you so cleverly memorized earlier. These little outbursts can coincide with mentions of Christ or G-d for added effect. Play it up to your heart’s content.

Step Six: Execute Your Exit Strategy

Your outbursts and physical contortions should be building to a crescendo at this point. Be sure to let your human persona show up in a fit of tearful, pathetic confusion and apologies (a well placed “Oh no, it’s happening again” can do wonders for heightening the drama). Either run away as the tortured lost soul or throw out a last growling curse as the cross-loathing demonic alter-ego, but whatever you choose to do - get the hell out of there BEFORE they hold you down and start casting the pretend demon out of you. We hear it smarts a bit when your soul is stripped of its Satanic motor, and no one wants that.

Please send us your accounts of evading the evangelists of Christ, and if you do pull off the fake exorcism, see if you can’t get a video - we’d love to post it.

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Tuesday, December 8, 2009 by admin.

Ho ho ho! Kids, have we got a treat for you! Just in time for XXXmas: Here are some HOLY holiday treats you and your heterosexual monogamous marital partner won’t want to miss!

For all of your fundie fetish needs you can visit The Christian Fetish Site. Just to whet your sleigh bells how’s about a quickie: The Christian Fetish Site has you peeing like a virgin, decking your anal halls, nursing your partner while you role-play your own nativity scene (be sure to relactate!), enjoying porn and sadomasochism the way God intended, and much much more. Don’t you worry your pious little hearts - there’s no homosexuality here! Just good ol’ fashioned hetero humpin!

Next on our list for you ho-ho-horny holy-rollers this XXXmas is The Christian Nymphos. This blog helps you transform yourself from homely housewife to salacious sex machine, to the honor and glory of Christ (of course). The Christian Nymphos takes their cues from the sexy Song of Solomon, a book in which the main character deflowers his lover, comments on her hot sister, then leaves her. Nothin’ like a little abandonment to steam up that marriage bed this winter!

Feel like your sizzle might fizzle this XXXmas without a little help? Say no more! Get all the tools you need to be Santa’s Little Helper at The Christian Sex Toy Shop.

If the manger’s a rockin’, you know what to do.

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Tuesday, December 8, 2009 by angel.

I have been accused of many things by my old fundie cohorts. Among those are placing myself under demonic influence, rebellion, promiscuity, masturbation (guilty!), changing my opinions out of spite, talking to the Devil himself (usually over mimosas), alcoholism, drug abuse, and (my favorite) intolerance.

All of the above have little connection to my version of reality save intolerance.

“Why do you hate Christians?” my mother asks. There is no answer to that question. In it is an already developed determination about my feelings, complete with a judgment as to their validity.

But here, in this forum, there’s no injured mother blinking tears back and blocking out my words even as they are formed. Here, you are my anonymous friends, and to you I will offer my answer - shocking as it may be.

I do NOT hate Christians.

I don’t hate anybody, really. Give me a second to search my soul… Yup. No hatred. Not for anyone. I see the world as a collection of hapless beings mucking their way through the best they can. Sometimes they hurt each other in the process. It’s an illusion of perspective that we have created this idea of right and wrong. Everyone is the hero of his own journey. Even the worst bad guys tend to think they’re somehow good or misunderstood. For the record, I want to note my belief that there are very good people who are Christians, fundies even. Just like there are very good formers and very good muslims and very good buddhists and very good atheists. Shall I go on?

What I take issue with is ANY belief structure that values ignorance over knowledge, that offers people an excuse to act out on their darker inclinations carte blanche - without the stark light of reason to guide them, that does not allow for criticism, evaluation, or evolution of doctrine. In short, I take issue with fundamentalism itself.

The formers I’ve met through the years of my reincarnation fall along a continuum, from intellectually amused by their foray into fundamentalist evangelical Christianity to deeply damaged by the abuses they have endured at the hands of their brothers and sisters in Christ. Like anyone else, I fall somewhere in that continuum. Like all of us, I have heartwarming stories about how my relationship with Jesus Christ helped me hurdle this or that life trauma. I have fond memories of the wonderful people I met and times I shared with them. But, I also bear the scars of not having developed healthy coping mechanisms for issues that exist outside the scope of the tiny evangelical box.

That last part is something a lot of us have in common. A moment in which the neatly packaged box of fundamentalist Christianity failed.

Perhaps it was in crisis. Perhaps during study. But at some point, the facade crumbled, and we were left with a giant conflict between our faith and our reality. We also had a choice: to ignore the problem, will it away through some wild circular logic OR to bravely acknowledge its existence and dig deeper.

We chose to dig.

Keep in mind, if you’re a fundie and you’re reading this - We don’t hate you. We’re not persecuting you. This isn’t about YOU. Keep playing your games with your imaginary friends and pretend spiritual battles. We’re just trying to recover and get on with our lives. With this life.

Posted in Faith, About Us, General | Print | No Comments »

Saturday, December 5, 2009 by RMH.

As an intellectual, I realize that the reason for the season isn’t Jesus, as so many people will profess. It is a well-known fact that the birth of Jesus (if we go ahead and assume for a moment that the rest of the story was accurate) was most certainly not in December, for a number of reasons. It is also well-known that the Roman Catholic Church, in an effort to assist the pagans in accepting the new religion of choice, used the existing Feast of the Son of Isis, the Goddess of Nature, which occurred on December 25th. Of course, since Babylonian times, the feast included partying, drinking, eating, and gift-giving. How could you get converts if you took away their favorite holiday? The holiday also coincides with most other cultures, celebrating the winter solstice. The Romans honored Saturn, the God of Agriculture, and the Europeans celebrated Yule, the birth of the Sun God Mithras.

But that’s honestly not what this article is about. It’s about the part of me that still misses my ignorance and the peace it brought this time of year.

As I sat in front of my Christmas tree this morning, adding bows, ribbons, and embellishments to the presents, I listened to Christmas music. And having grown up in a very religious household, and attending a fundamentalist school, I, of course, know all the words to every song by heart. Especially the religious ones. As I began to recall the songs, Oh Come All Ye Faithful, Silent Night, and Hark the Herald Angels Sing, I felt an intense sadness.

My separation from the church, unlike so many others, was not one that was my choice. I realize that had not certain events occurred, I would probably still believe, still attend church, and still find the security in my faith that I did growing up. I would encourage my children this time of year to embrace the birth of Jesus, attend candlelight services, and be filled with the joy of the season. Instead, I shudder at religious symbols, at prayers before Christmas dinners, and all the religious connotations the season brings. My hatred, and yes, I mean that honestly, comes from the time that, as a youth, the church that I had attended my entire life literally pushed me out the door and insisted I not return; all this through no fault of my own. But that is another story for another time.

The realization of where I might be in life, and how it would differ from where I am now was the source of my sadness. This morning, I had to admit to myself that I miss the warm, fuzzy security blanket of religious ignorance. The feeling that someone, somewhere, out there loved me unconditionally, and that all the bad things that happened in life somehow had a purpose.

As I listened to Oh Holy Night, I recalled Christmas Eve’s of my childhood; and I miss it. Now, each day, each action, is my responsibility. I have to live with the consequences and find my own way in the world. I have to lead my children to survive in this world, no unseen figure, no invisible avenger to fall back on or ask for help. I felt the loneliness. I cried. I grieved for easier times.

I envy believers. They have peace I can’t find anymore, a security I don’t feel anymore. But I can’t believe. If there is a g-d out there, and perhaps there is, I don’t know who he is. And while most of the time I feel proud and empowered by my own understanding of the world, today is different. Today, like so many years ago when I was rejected by my church, I am grieving the loss of religion in my life.

Posted in Theology, Faith | Print | 3 Comments »

Thursday, July 23, 2009 by angel.

Once upon a time, I taught preschool at a Baptist church.

Preferring to retain my creative liberty in washing their little brains squeaky clean, I generally ignored the assigned curriculum totally… however, there came a day when I was strapped for time and pulled out the fateful pre-packaged visuals in a mad dash for the classroom. So armed, I began giving the kids their lesson.

We were learning the story of Noah’s ark. The 18×24 cards depicted the biblical characters after the flood, skipping happily off of the ark whilst joyous animals frolicked all around them.

As I told the story, I would hold up the appropriate card for the innocent eyes to behold, taking a quick glance for my own reference. It happened, however, that what I perceived in one particular glance registered in my brain at the selfsame moment as the collective gasp of terror from the children.

Following the fanciful frolicking, was an illustration of Noah thanking G-d for safe passage through the flood. Front and center stood an enormous rock alter on which lay a child-sized lamb, with its throat slit open, tongue hanging out, and blood streaming down in velvety serpentine threads. Noah stood behind, arms outstretched toward heaven in joy.

This may have been my first step toward vegetarianism.

Most of the children eventually went to rehab for various drug and self mutilation addictions by the 1st grade. I hear that some of them are doing fine now.

Posted in Faith, General | Print | 1 Comment »

Thursday, July 23, 2009 by angel.

It was the summer before I went into the 3rd grade, and my friend whose name I can’t recall was at my house. We were covertly jumping on the bed and talking about school. While we were excited about being in the same class for once (at the time the 3rd and 4th grades were combined because our Christian school was so small), we were also very nervous to be under the tutelage of Mrs. Heckle. She had a reputation, and not a good one by our standards. I was more anxious than my friend, who rolled her eyes at my quivering lower lip and told me, in all the wisdom that her extra year of life afforded her, not to be silly. Still quietly jumping on the bed as she spoke, she explained that “at church they said Jesus was coming back soon, and we won’t even have to go to Mrs. Heckle’s class anyway!”

We both stopped for just a moment and pondered the possibilities of the second coming of Christ. We’d never have to go to school again! After giggling hysterically at the prospect, we jumped on the bed with sweet wild abandon, knowing that even if we did get in trouble, it wouldn’t be for long… Jesus was going to be here ANY SECOND.

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Monday, July 13, 2009 by admin.

I knew at three weeks. I was pregnant. How. Why. We had taken precautions. This shouldn’t have happened. But it had. And it was right there in front of me. A pink plus sign leering from the white plastic handle. Just as certainly as I knew I was pregnant, I knew I wouldn’t keep my child.

A few years earlier, while picketing outside a women’s health clinic with my youth group, I noticed a girl walking inside. The shouts of the protesters became a low murmur behind me as our eyes met. She couldn’t have been too much older than I was. Short brown hair. The Smiths t-shirt. Vans. She looked at me. My braided hair falling well below my waist. WWJD shirt. Simple flats. We stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. I nodded. “You’re going to be fine,” I found myself saying. “I know,” her lips formed the reply. She walked inside then. I lowered my sign and walked away to wait on the bus for the others. I understood something that day.

She was me.

As I walked into the clinic years later, my friend squeezed my hand. “You’re going to be fine,” she said. “I know,” I told her. And I was.

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Tuesday, July 7, 2009 by B.AllanDempsey.

I’ve suffered a recent heart injury, metaphorically speaking. I met someone and, like always, fell too hard too fast, and, like always, those feelings weren’t reciprocated. So, I’m crushed. And as I cycle through the stages of grief (I have six, by the way: the denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance stages, and the endlessly-tormenting-myself-with-unanswerable-questions-and-what-if-scenarios-until-I-drive-myself-mad-and-get-two-hours-of-sleep-if-I’m-lucky stage), I realize something. This is the first real heartache I’ve had without God.

I’ve always been the type to dig in, face my emotional problems head-on, and struggle to pull myself out of them. Sounds really tough and self-reliant, but I had a secret weapon. God was there to help me. He’d wrap His big, fatherly arms around me and comfort me. I could tell Him my troubles, and I knew there was a grand design that I was playing out with my pain.

But now that I’ve lost my faith, I have one more hurdle to jump when dealing with grief. I am alone. Truly alone. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I have friends and family I can lean on, and I thank God (I know, I know) for them. Inside, however, I’m alone now. I have nothing but myself to use when I need to steel myself up and rebuild my heart.

So, along with re-defining my values, beliefs, and notions about the fabric of reality, I now have to re-learn how to feel. One of my basic coping mechanisms has been removed, making something as normal and human as sadness even more crippling and insurmountable.

I sure wish I still believed. I could use a god about now.

P.S. What the hell does “we’re too similar to be more-than-friends” mean? What, we have too much in common? We get along too well? Even God was never able to help me with logic like that.

Posted in Love Life | Print | 1 Comment »

Friday, June 12, 2009 by admin.

Much thanks to My Female Sexuality for letting us run their post on the Medical Benefits of Masturbation.

Masturbation, it seems, is a form of genital “housekeeping”. Women experience the urge to masturbate as a way to eliminate debris or genital “gunk” that inhabits the mucus of the vagina and uterus (i.e. menstrual remnants, old sperm, or colonies of invading viruses and bacteria at the opening of the cervix). Baker explains, ” An orgasm via masturbation solves a dual problem. In the absence of the spoiling effects of semen, the orgasm rids her cervix of older mucus, relining the vaginal walls, ready to lubricate her next intercourse. An orgasm without semen present makes the remaining cervical mucus more acidic, hence more resistant to infection.”* Daily discharge routinely keep the vagina clean, but the urge to masturbate comes when there is more debris than the daily discharge can accommodate.

For men, the housekeeping benefits of masturbation are equally important. Millions of fresh sperm cells are necessary for optimum baby making, so unused sperm lingering around in the testicles too long are encouraged to leave the warm, scrotal sack to make room for a fresh batch. That means a quick ejaculation. Baker and his colleagues showed that the male body would spark the urge to masturbate in anticipation of intercourse in order to have the freshest sperm possible. “By masturbating, the result is that when he next inseminates a woman, he does indeed ejaculate fewer sperm - but they are younger and more active. A greater number manage to escape the seminal pool, and because they are younger, they live longer. Just as with a woman and her cervical mucus, a man’s body keeps an eye on the health and vigor of the sperm he has in storage, and when it decides it needs to be shed it triggers in him an urge to masturbate.”* So if your sperm are more than three days old, you’re going to be feeling the urge to mate - or at least to find the baby oil to ejaculate on your own.

So what happens if you refuse to give into those healthful but lustful urges to bring yourself to orgasm? It turns out that solo orgasms are such an intrinsic part of genital health, that if the urge to masturbate is suppressed in both men and women, then the body simply causes you to have nocturnal emissions - or wet dreams. Those sexy thoughts you have during REM sleep are produced by your body to keep it primed, healthy and ready to reproduce. The only problem from the resulting orgasms is that it leaves you with extra laundry. So the moral of all this is give in to those primal urges to get intimate with yourself. Despite all the centuries of bad press, the truth is that masturbation is downright good for you and as important to your health and well being as blowing your nose or brushing your teeth. Amen.

* Baby Wars, Baker, Robin & Elizabeth Oram. 1999. Harper Collins, Toronto. Pages 25-26

Posted in Love Life, Science! | Print | 1 Comment »