jester journals

Weird Ramblings from a Warped Mind

Not For Me

I fall for a lot of things. I admit that. It took me four trips through the “Bikini Clad Girls” carwash at Wally*Mart before I caught on that they were stealing my wallet. Every time. The cops just started photo copying my police report. But I caught on… eventually.

But sometimes things appear so obvious that even I catch on right from the start. And that HAS to be obvious. It only took me three e-mails from Nigeria to realize that I wasn’t going to get my $40 Billion dollars from Dr. Clement Okon, Esq. But come on, some times even I’m not fooled.

It seems the ones that really get me are the ones about religion. Maybe it’s due to my own faith and the relationship I have with my Savior. Or maybe it’s because I’m not REALLY as dumb as I look (thank GOODNESS for small miracles). Who knows? But either way, the religion ones make no sense to me.

When I was in the military, I had a running gag when asked my religious preference. Anytime you deployed or there was an exercise where you PRETENDED to deploy, they had to ensure your emergency contact information was correct. So you had to give your name, rank, social security number, blood type, and religious preference. So to keep things light, I always told them I was a follower of Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh. And after receiving a look similar to a deer in headlights, I would add… or Baptist.

Now, Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, or Rajneeshees as the followers were known, had it going on. He convinced followers to give him all their money and live on his commune where they could work to support him. One follower bought a large Oregon parcel (The Big Muddy Ranch) for $5.75 million in 1981 so the “religion” could have a headquarters. And he traveled in STYLE… there was a collection of 50+ Rolls Royces. Yeah… I saw through this from the start.

There was that group from Waco, Texas that followed David Koresh. Sadly, they spelled their name wrong since they were actually in WacKo. I don’t care how many guns and bullets I have in my house, when the FBI knocks on my door with a TANK, I’m giving up. Game over.

And sometimes these things make BIG headlines. When over 900 people died in Guyana in a town that the leader names after himself (Jonestown)… I just don’t know. At one point I think I would be like… “Maybe this ain’t such a good idea.” And do you know, 38 years later, I still don’t drink grape Kool-Aid. Only red.

I got a kick out of the Heaven’s Gate group, too. They have to meet the Big Space Ship in the sky. And to make sure they don’t get confused with all the other groups meeting the Big Space Ship in the sky, they all dressed alike: a purple cloth over their head, new black and white Nikes, black shirt, and black sweatpants (cause you want to be comfortable on a long trip). But I REALLY got a kick out of the act that each one of them had a $5 dollar bill and three quarters in their pockets. I don’t know if they were expecting tolls on the journey or were worried that they might have to pay admission at their destination.

I guess I’m lucky in that fact. None of these Yahoos are for me. And I don’t plan to take any money with me when I go. There won’t be any tolls on my final journey and I know my admission has already been paid with blood.

But, just so you know… if you are reading this and ever get an email from me asking you to move to TomTown and give me all your money, just do it. It’s legit!!

And that’s MY take.