The Dark Modern Religion

I wanted religion to be the theme of the month as a way to address things we don't normally talk about. People seem to like to get rowdy about religion, but around here (at least the northern Virginia, DC area) religion is basically nonexistent in everyday life unless you actually look for it. It lingers for sure in the general fabric of our expressions, stereotypes, and politics, but when it comes down to it, I don't really expect to find Jesus or Muhammad or Buddha greeting me in the various public places I pass through. Instead, I find myself subject to the vigilant watch of Ronald, Wendy, and the King. I understand the mythology of a cave man being mocked by an insurance company, but not the tenants that Judaism is built on. Rather than being in touch with hymns and spirituals, I know the tune of the five-dollar footlong song without ever asking for such knowledge. These things are what have become valued by society, with no choice ever being made on our part. Advertising rules everything that reaches any mass of people now, and it is the underlying religion of our country and our wealthy peers.

If something so much as whispers over the radio, has a moment's glimpse on television, or wants to find even a couple views on the internet, advertisements show up, take over, and assure us everything's in good hands. And once allowed to display, showcase, and entice all the magical things that ads do, eventually a collective world forms outside of our own. This world is where all those perfect pizzas and sandwiches and ice-drenched beverages exist, where people seem impossibly happy with their iPods and new cars and vacations and lives. There is this divide that forms, a space that separates us from nirvana, and instead of reading scripture, practicing the good deeds, and believing in salvation to get there, all we need is that dollar dollar bill y'all. But even when we buy our latest favorite golden device, it's never quite like what we're shown that it should be. So we buy more, and do what we can to keep buying more, to chase that golden device in the ads and break the cycle forever. Needless to say, that shit is exhausting, serving the dollar.

Now, it's not that these products and icons and moguls are necessarily evil. If anything they're just really smart and soulless, haha. But really, they're just too big to really be tangible and therefore kind of useless to scream about. And that's just it, they're too big to take down. Once some sort of idea or icon has reached a certain huge number of people, they start to exist on their own, suspended in the stratosphere of our heads, and nothing can really pull them out of the sky. Only time can really deflate them, but even that's not guaranteed to happen any time soon.

So as these icons start to grow and reach constellation heights, questions previously ludicrous almost become relevant, such as this: What is the more recognizable icon around of the world, the crucifix or the golden arches? The yin yang or the Air Jordan silhouette? This is what we've been given this past century, a new cast of idols and phophets, only they don't really give a shit how you act towards each other or conduct your lives, so long as you pay the big man upstairs, in the penthouse.

Having never been very religious, I have a hard time wondering whether we should all be threatened by the rise of these smiley, greasy idols. I tend to think so though, because even if people don't believe in them and hail their marketing and their products as the best answer to the spiritual plights of the world, we're all affected by the tenants that they preach. The goals of society as a whole start to tilt in their direction, and as the great ship tilts, you better grab hold of something (education! job! retirement plan!) to keep from falling in the water and getting left behind. Otherwise, you'll just have to get creative with those sea legs (I'm losing hold of this analogy). The point is, regardless of your beliefs, entities as big as Jesus and Coca-Cola are going to affect society, you, and whatever role you claim in society, and although the Fertile Crescent All Stars may cause wars and hatred and death, at least on the most basic level of the major religions we are seen as human, and ideally we do unto others as we would have others do to us, whereas a Corporate God sees only consumers, and fuck if he cares how or why we do anything.

I guess this jumbled rant has sort of led me to what religion means to people as a whole, and how this brave new era of extremely powerful corporate logos is mimicking the icons of the past only with different intentions. What's even weirder is how the internet is changing the rock-solid religion of the sponsors of what was once during and between the 30 minute sitcoms of old. Now, advertisers are winded trying to catch up to the "stars" that pop up on youtube, and the NEW AND BIG things aren't coming from the same places they always have. People are going to obscure websites that had a good idea of how to reinvent the wheel yet again and deliver information to people in a new and, God forbid, even more convenient way. So the ads have to hunt us; find where we like to go hang out, where ya at? Over at Facebook's? Youtuber's? Twittmeister's? And once they track us down they catch their breath for 15 seconds, slapping us in the face with another soul-grimacing screening of that awful heathen of a woman from Progressive Insurance making awkward-slash-supposed-to-be-endearing(?) chat with some moron walking around in her white hell of bookshelves holding nondescript bibles on how to turn a country's obsession with Michael Cera into a marketable ploy on awkwardness.

But really, no one can catch up with the internet, and I say let it go. Keep what we need (long-winded blogs) and get on with our lives. I say turn down the volume on that woman (Flo, is it? Save me JesuBuddhaMuhamaYahweh!) or just pull the plug on her entirely, especially if you're not actually watching anything. There are so many things better to do than submit to white fuzz of ads on TV when you're not even watching anything. Find your own religion - not necessarily one with scriptures and centuries of history (although I guess they do have they credentials), but one that is worthwhile. The classic religions cultivate passion with often way too specific of an agenda, while consumerism cultivates mindlessness with an agenda that doesn't care about you at all. In the thick of it all there's got to be a better journey. And although the great icons have their own worth - if for nothing more than inspire collective awe at an idea that is known on every continent the same - you have to keep your wits about you. Gotta be careful about what you chase into that stratosphere.

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Ricky: Dear Lord Baby Jesus, we also thank you for my wife’s father, Chip. We hope that you can use your Baby Jesus powers to heal him and his horrible leg. And it smells terrible and the dogs are always bothering with it. Dear tiny, infant Jesus, we….

Carley: Hey, you know, sweetie, Jesus did grow up. You don’t always have to call him “baby.” It’s a bit odd and off-putting to pray to a baby.

Ricky: Well, I like the Christmas Jesus best and I’m saying grace. When you say grace you can say it to grownup Jesus, or teenage Jesus, or bearded Jesus or whoever you want.

Carley: You know what I want? I want you to do this grace good so that God will let us win tomorrow.

Ricky: Dear tiny Jesus, in your golden-fleece diapers, with your tiny, little, fat, balled-up fists….

Chip: He was a man! He had a beard!

Ricky: Look, I like the baby version the best, do you hear me? I win the races and I get the money.

Carley: Ricky, finish the damn grace.

Cal: I like to picture Jesus in a tuxedo T shirt, cause it says, like, “I wanna be formal, but I’m here to party, too.” Cause I like to party, so I like my Jesus to party.

Walker: I like to picture Jesus as a ninja fighting off evil samurai.

Cal: I like to think of Jesus, like, with giant eagle’s wings. And singing lead vocals for Lynyrd Skynyrd, with, like, a angel band. And I’m in the front row, and I’m hammered drunk.

Carley: Hey Cal, why don’t you just shut up?

Cal: Yes, ma’am.

Ricky: Okay. Dear 8 pound, 6 ounce newborn infant Jesus, don’t even know a word yet, just a little infant and so cuddly, but still omnipotent, we just thank you for all the races I’ve won and the 21.2 million dollars – woo! (the rest of the family says “woo” too) – love that money, that I have accrued over this past season. Also, due to a binding endorsement contract that stipulates I mention Powerade at each grace, I just want to say that Powerade is delicious and it cools you off on a hot summer day. And we look forward to Powerade’s release of Mystic Mountain Blueberry. Thank you for all your power and your grace, dear baby God. Amen.

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Cal Naughton, Jr.: I like to think of Jesus as a mischievous badger.

Cal Naughton, Jr.: I like to picture Jesus as a figure skater. He wears like a white outfit, and He does interpretive ice dances of my life's journey.

Ricky Bobby: Dear Lord baby Jesus, lyin' there in your ghost manger, just lookin' at your Baby Einstein developmental videos, learnin' 'bout shapes and colors.

Cal Naughton, Jr.: I had a dream where Jesus was a dirty old bum, and I was about to sock him in the face because, well he's a dirty old bum, but then I thought, there's something special about him...
Ricky Bobby: Because it was Jesus, right...
Cal Naughton, Jr.: Yeah...

Cal Naughton, Jr.: I like to picture Jesus in a tuxedo T-Shirt because it says I want to be formal, but I'm here to party.