When people ask me why I blog -- which no one has, mind you, but let's just pretend for a second that someone did -- I generally reply with:
It's a desperate cry for attention.
Haha, right?
But also sadly, pathetically true.
My goal is to be big. Men Without Hats big. Carrot Top big.
Bigger, even, than Jesu...oops, better not continue down that line of thought. We all remember where that got Lennon.
But now that I think about it, there is ONE area where I'm bigger than Jesus. No way did He meet or exceed my size-34 waist - or size 33, if He wore Perry Ellis khakis, which He wouldn't.
I mean, think about it -- no way could He have been bigger-waisted than me. Heck, they didn't even HAVE Twinkies back then, and even if they did, I'm not sure He could've eaten one because I don't think polysorbate 80 is kosher. Which is good, because I'm not sure even He could've resisted the temptation to flip the Twinkie over and shlurp the cream filling out of the stigmata on the Twinkie bottom.
But anyway, to become as big as my ego demands I be, clearly there are some folks to whom I need to reach out. Specifically, 51% of the voters in this country opted to vote for a guy who, in my opinion, has the IQ of a turnip. Say what you will, but these people are a majority, and I want them as Subdivided readers.
President Bush is a religious man, and he appeals to a religious audience. Now to my mind, there are a couple of pretty good reasons to follow any particular religion -- the first being a belief in and desire to follow an omnipotent creator, and the second being a desire to explore one's spirituality. Both fine goals, no?
But there's another sort of religiosity out there as well -- and it's driven by a desire to point a finger at those different from oneself and say, "Aha -- unclean!"
Christians of this latter sort tend to grasp onto two particular books of the Bible -- Leviticus, from the Old Testament, and Revelation from the New. Never mind so much about all the stuff in between, like the parts where that hippy guy goes around preaching boring liberal shit like "love" and "compassion." Instead, from Leviticus we get a great big laundry list of items about which we can put others down -- and Revelation does a swell job of describing the wrath of God that's going to come down on those heathens.
But hey -- who has time to sit around and read Leviticus these days?
That's where I come in. I want to help you, my red state friends, in your mission of becoming even more judgemental. So from time to time over the next few weeks, I'm going to read and summarize Leviticus for you. By the end of all this, you'll know just who's an abomination, who you should smite, who's unclean, etc. Think of all the new folks you'll be able to seethe about!
One problem though. We don't start digging into the really juicy stuff for quite a while. So we'll get to the abomination scorecard later. For now, I'll just sum up the first four chapters, which deal primarily in selecting and preparing your sacrifices.
In Chapter I, we learn about our animal-type sacrifices. Specifically, we're talking about sacrifices "from the herd or from the flock" -- meaning cows, goats or sheep.
Now if you're of a mind to set up a little sacrificin' action, here are some pointers. Find yourself an unblemished male, slaughter it, and splash the blood on the sides of the altar. Skin it, cut it up into pieces -- don't forget to wash the inner organs and shanks -- then lay the head, suet and gobbets of meat onto the altar. Then you know what you've got there, chum?
No, not chum. What you've got there is one sweet smelling obligation to the Lord.
Also in Chapter I, we learn about bird sacrifices. Only a turtledove or pigeon'll do. Don't forget to have your priest snap its head loose and squeeze the blood against the altar! Then, remove the feathers & beak, then toss that bad boy into a deep fryer onto the east side of the altar.
Moving on to chapter two, we learn about our cereal offerings. No, we shan't be sacrificing Toucan Sam or Lucky the Leprechaun, as delightful as that idea sounds. Instead, we'll be frying, baking or deep-frying one of your whole grains, seasoning with salt, then placing onto the altar. From the sounds of things, Cheez-Its would work just fine.
In Chapter III, there's more of the same -- although this time there's a sudden emphasis on removing the fatty membranes that apparently cover just about any organ you'd care to name. Chapter IV is a rehash of Chapters I - III, but with an emphasis on the duties of the priest. There's also something in there about tail severing.
When we return to "I Read Leviticus So You Don't Have To," we'll dig in on Chapter V -- and start dishin' the dirt.
-----
*UPDATE* -- I'm going to shoot for new installments of "I Read Leviticus..." every Monday. Next installment -- Monday, September 12. Also, bonus points to the person who can identify the source of the title of this particular entry. Think 70's pop.