70 good reasons not to be a martyr
Was reading a piece written by George Orwell in 1943 ‘Why Socialists Don’t Believe In Fun’ this evening after work and was struck by his words about the various paradises promised by priests of various religions to the faithful. It raised a number of questions in my mind about the much-touted afterlife. Say for example that the Islamist creed of martyrdom is correct and Suicide (or Homicide) bombers do get access to the 77, 72, or 70 (or however many) maidens or Houri’s for giving up their life in the cause of their religion; what then? Did any of the priests who made this promise and other similar post-life promises know anything about living in a female dominated household? I think not.
For those of us who live in the real world, an all-female (Except one) household can be a very mixed blessing. Even if you are a top-alpha male at the apex of your masculine powers, I defy you to be wholly in charge. Women have us by the gonads every time. To be concise; the term ‘Maiden’ implies (To me at least) girls of a sexual age, say their late teens. As a stepfather, I have first hand experience of mid and late teenage females. Just pause and observe teenage females of whatever culture you happen to be a part of. Now let us think about what this really means for a minute; in your (Male) afterlife, your eternity (Which is an exceedingly long time) is to be spent surrounded by 70 plus females, never mind the promise of endless shagging, who will chatter about inconsequential details such as any general gossip, what shortcomings you might have as a male, DIY projects you haven’t yet completed, that firmament looks a bit tired, couldn’t you do something about it dearest? All that, forever. Don’t kid yourself otherwise, no one man, even part Angel could cope with that sort of background tumult without turning into some form of celestial basket case within the first hour. That’s just on a good day. Just think about the bad days; seventy plus cases of PMT hitting simultaneously, because all females in a household have a tendency towards synchronised menstrual cycles. Seventy plus irrational impulses, illogical bad moods, and worse coming at you simultaneously with nowhere to hide because; this is the paradise you signed up for pal.
Never mind that this affects only the male version of eternity. What if only two or three of the maidens turn out to have radical feminist views, or much worse, are fanatical vegetarians? Doesn’t bear thinking about really.
What about the female version of paradise? Does this consist of seventy plus inexperienced young men all vying for the woman’s attention? Seventy plus males all fighting over the remote control, forgetting your birthday or nailing wonky shelves to the firmament without first reading the instructions?
Christians etc don’t come off that much better. When you ask what their version of the post life paradise their religion offers, you’ll get all sorts of guff like harps, enlightenment, bliss, whatever. Sounds pretty dull to me. In fact, upon proper examination, all of these promises appear just so much tosh to bribe people into doing what they are told for promises of a reward in the next life, if it exists.
So, for being a ‘good’ person and doing what the priests of your religion tell you, like not parking on the metaphysical double yellows, you get just one thing, over and over, forever amen. I think I’d be bored witless. Perhaps the real sound of eternity might be the metaphysical sound of souls screaming things like “Not another peeled grape!” or “If you play that tune one more time I’ll stuff it right up your robes!” or “For the last time, all seventy mothers-in-law cannot come round for Sunday lunch!”.
So, suicide bombers go to ‘Heaven’ and get the same thing, day after day, after eternal day? Mm-hm. Hasn’t God got a strange sense of humour?
Doesn’t worry me, Traffic Wardens are all damned anyway. My local vicar told me so after I caught him without a pay and display ticket.
For those of us who live in the real world, an all-female (Except one) household can be a very mixed blessing. Even if you are a top-alpha male at the apex of your masculine powers, I defy you to be wholly in charge. Women have us by the gonads every time. To be concise; the term ‘Maiden’ implies (To me at least) girls of a sexual age, say their late teens. As a stepfather, I have first hand experience of mid and late teenage females. Just pause and observe teenage females of whatever culture you happen to be a part of. Now let us think about what this really means for a minute; in your (Male) afterlife, your eternity (Which is an exceedingly long time) is to be spent surrounded by 70 plus females, never mind the promise of endless shagging, who will chatter about inconsequential details such as any general gossip, what shortcomings you might have as a male, DIY projects you haven’t yet completed, that firmament looks a bit tired, couldn’t you do something about it dearest? All that, forever. Don’t kid yourself otherwise, no one man, even part Angel could cope with that sort of background tumult without turning into some form of celestial basket case within the first hour. That’s just on a good day. Just think about the bad days; seventy plus cases of PMT hitting simultaneously, because all females in a household have a tendency towards synchronised menstrual cycles. Seventy plus irrational impulses, illogical bad moods, and worse coming at you simultaneously with nowhere to hide because; this is the paradise you signed up for pal.
Never mind that this affects only the male version of eternity. What if only two or three of the maidens turn out to have radical feminist views, or much worse, are fanatical vegetarians? Doesn’t bear thinking about really.
What about the female version of paradise? Does this consist of seventy plus inexperienced young men all vying for the woman’s attention? Seventy plus males all fighting over the remote control, forgetting your birthday or nailing wonky shelves to the firmament without first reading the instructions?
Christians etc don’t come off that much better. When you ask what their version of the post life paradise their religion offers, you’ll get all sorts of guff like harps, enlightenment, bliss, whatever. Sounds pretty dull to me. In fact, upon proper examination, all of these promises appear just so much tosh to bribe people into doing what they are told for promises of a reward in the next life, if it exists.
So, for being a ‘good’ person and doing what the priests of your religion tell you, like not parking on the metaphysical double yellows, you get just one thing, over and over, forever amen. I think I’d be bored witless. Perhaps the real sound of eternity might be the metaphysical sound of souls screaming things like “Not another peeled grape!” or “If you play that tune one more time I’ll stuff it right up your robes!” or “For the last time, all seventy mothers-in-law cannot come round for Sunday lunch!”.
So, suicide bombers go to ‘Heaven’ and get the same thing, day after day, after eternal day? Mm-hm. Hasn’t God got a strange sense of humour?
Doesn’t worry me, Traffic Wardens are all damned anyway. My local vicar told me so after I caught him without a pay and display ticket.
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