Monday, August 20, 2012


As anyone with an attention span more vigorous than a gnat’s is aware, back on July 16th, Dan Cathy, President of the Georgia-based fast-food outlet Chick-fil-A, was interviewed by the Baptist Press, an online “journal” of Baptist “news.” During this interview, Cathy was asked about Chick-fil-A’s stance on marriage and the family, to which he offered the following predictable commentary: “[Chick-fil-A] is very much supportive of the family…the biblical definition of the family unit.” He then added that this definition does not include Adam and Steve. Oh, how droll.

The LGBT community took him to mean he was speaking the truth (and how could they not?), which is to say that they understood him (correctly) to be yet another bigoted Jesus-freak, with his Dockers in a twist over what his imaginary god thinks is good for the world. And then they calmly set about making their feelings public, by staging a series of demonstrations where they gathered outside various Chick-fil-A stores and waved pro-love, anti-stupid-shit signs at motorists while doing some serious same-sex tongue ‘rasslin.

I attended one of these protests, at the Chick-fil-A on May and 63rd in Oklahoma City, and being there was as much fun as I’ve had in ages. We stood on May, with the restaurant behind us, holding up signs and flashing thumbs-up at passing cars. One lady, a med student, wore a shirt saying “The Doctor is OUT!” and another arrived wearing what, at first glance, appeared to be a Sooners t-shirt, but when she got closer it read: “Oklahomo.” She strode up to the group and said, “Linda. Lesbian. Reporting for duty,” and gave a snappy salute.

Considering how fucking backward this city is, it was surprising and not a little agreeable to see how many people honked and waved in support. We received very few negative responses, and those were just silly. A pair of guys with shaved heads piloting a shitty pick-up drove by several times, apparently trying to frighten us with their beady-eyed displeasure at all things faggy. Another member of the Oklahoma brain-trust slowed down and yelled, “I love chicken! Fuck you!” And that really hurt my feelings, cuz, you know, I love chicken too.

Here’s what I don’t get about these sorts of shrill, freakish Christians. They claim to believe in a god that is omnipotent, omnipresent and omniscient. He knows all, sees all, is eternal, and exists in all places and in all points in time simultaneously, and you mean to tell me he gives a rats tiny puckered butthole about two men kissing? Really?

When you inquire among Christians about anything having to do with their religion (its comprehensive lack of logic, its history of vehemence and mayhem, its hostility toward change, and the fact that no one has ever, or will ever, furnish substantive proof of its core tenets) the discussion quickly comes to a halt, slam-bang against a rhetorical wall called “faith.” One either has faith that the Hairy Thunderer (to quote Tony Hendra) exists, or one does not. One either has faith that he is out there somewhere, copy of the master “plan” in hand, or one does not. One either has faith that he can somehow, even as he is busy juggling every particle of the known universe, work up enough concern to crap on two women in love, or one does not. “Faith” is a wiggly word, and can only be pressed into service in defense of wiggly assertions.

It seems to me that when silly people, such as the gaggle of fluff-heads running the show down at Chick-fil-A, decide to speak up for their god, what they are really demonstrating is their own personal lack of faith. Apparently, their supreme deity is so feeble he requires help from fast-food sellers to keep his creation from running utterly amok. Not only that, but it appears that from time to time their god grows so flabby and out of sorts that getting him back into his mid-season form demands that whole flocks of the “faithful” band together and visit a drive-thru for many helpings of deep-fried chicken patties. If that sort of behavior puts a contented smile on the Big Guy’s mush, one is left to conclude that he fancies his followers chubby and in possession of a fine varnish of arterial plaque. And, thus, do we come full circle, face to face with your typical Chick-fil-A customer.

And I have come full circle as well, but for to offer this to the god-monkeys:

Try, for a change, listening to what you think, instead of what you think your make-believe god thinks. Standing up for the opinions of an invisible playmate isn’t honorable, it isn’t tough-minded, and it isn’t courageous. It’s nuts. So, eat your nasty sandwiches, mind your own business, and shut the fuck up.


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