Half a mile from the county fair
And the rain keep pourin' down
Me and Billy standin' there
With a silver half a crown
This is one of the funniest things I have noticed about this blog. If you read the top and look halfway down the page, you’ll see an excerpt from the ole’ bergblog.
Yup, I can honestly say that bergblog has been featured on a Christian website—and not in a negative way either. This is probably funniest for me since I’m going to Hell—my Mom has reminded me of this throughout my life.
It all started back when I was baptized. The priest laid me down above the holy water, cocked his holy water-wand thing, and accidentally whacked me in the head when I was months old.
It was an obvious mistake and my parents didn’t know what to think with the priest causing physical harm to their first-born. My Mom should’ve given up at that point. I didn’t even burst out in tears!
My parents would tell me how I would cry all the time. They took me to the doctor countless number of times because they couldn’t imagine why this kid would cry so much.
The weird this is as much as I cried as a baby, a mild beating from the priest never instigated anything more than a look of innocent curiosity.
It was at this point I figure that I was Christianity’s “goof up”.
I grew up by going to church every Saturday afternoon with my family and… I just couldn’t take it. It wasn’t too long before I could recite just about every hymn, every prayer, and even the short little tunes the Father would sing before breaking the bread.
I would ask my Mom some smart-ass questions like,
Tom: Hey Mom, is Jesus’ last name Christ?
Mom: Yes it is. Good!
Tom: Is God’s last name Dammit?
Mom: That’s not very nice. You’re going to Hell!
I didn’t take long before I figured it was redundant and **in my opinion** not a good/creative way to worship any creator.
As much as I tried to appease my Mom, I just couldn’t sit still in church. One time I sneezed into the fleshy underside of my elbow and created this huge farting noise that loudly echoed throughout the congregation.
It was by accident, but my Mom didn’t care. She was thoroughly embarrassed.
Then this one time in high school I accidentally left some porn on the computer. My mom walked in and chased me out of the house with a spatula cocked and yelling,
“YOU’RE GOING TO HELL!” That was the fastest I’ve ever seen my Mom move.
Before my parents married, my Mom made damn sure that her kids would grow up Catholic because if not, she’d go to Hell. My Dad grew up Moravian, which is a religion that seems like Christianity without the ultra freaks. I have two aunts that are Moravian ministers and mass seems a lot like “community coffee talk” with a couple religious undertones.
As hard as my Mom tried, I do somewhat wish I grew up Moravian.
Now, whenever I say/do/write something stupid, I blame religon!