I get up to go pee, and Josh turns on me. I didn't ask to have to go pee, you know. Josh said I was made that way. You people want this out of a savior? Sure, I crack-napped him and sometimes menace him by holding him over my dog's head, but what about turning the other cheek?
Actually, I'm just kidding. Josh and I patched things up. He said he was sorry, and I said I wouldn't perch him on the toilet seat all night. (He might be King of Kings, Lord of Lords, Top of the Pops, and so on, but let's remember who the alpha dog is here.)
So what happens if I turn Josh agnostic? I've been reading some of Sam Harris' Letter to a Christian Nation to him, and I know I saw him looking thoughtful.
Harris: "Add to this abject mythology surrounding one man's death by torture... the symbolic cannibalism of the Eucharist. Did I say 'symbolic'? Sorry, according to the Vatican it is most assuredly not symbolic."
And when I ask him about why a useless "miracle" like transubstantiation when we have cancer, Alzheimer's, and Hurricane Katrinas, he gets positively grumpy. Maybe I need to give him a Bible to leaf through when I'm in the bathroom.
Oh, and someone suggested showing him The Passion of the Christ. I tried that, and he had some sort of Nam flashback. So I took pity on him and let him watch my Muppet Show DVDs. He loved it. He was all "Verily I say until you: wakka wakka wakka!"
Anyway, no word today from the Catholics, but big thanks to the Skepchicks for the shoutout. (I appreciate the support, ladies, and I'll see you all in hell.) Tomorrow will bring another demand, I'm afraid. I'll give you a hint: condoms. Lots of condoms.