a little bit of chi, with a side of karmic justice (and Welsh tea cake).

I was raised Presbyterian by a lapsed  Methodist and a half-Catholic. It's probably part of the reason I can't do mainstream Christianity. The other part of the reason is that, exactly 9 times out of 10, I have personally witnessed people who are (loudly) Christian doing the following: lying, stealing, coveting their neighbors' asses (among other things), saying all types of things in vain, and working hardily on the Sabbath. Which is all fine by me, because I do these things too, occasionally without complaint. The problem I have with (loud) Christians is they try to say they don't do these things, or they admit to doing them but then throw in that cop out "But I'm still going to heaven, because I've been saved." As if Jesus was a Kroger coupon.

At the same time, I also have an extreme lack of appreciation for militant atheists. Because I think they actually do have a religion, but crazily refuse to recognize it. Which is why they're militant in the first place. People with nothing to prove or disprove, and no bones to pick, are generally very calm and nice, no shouting at all, unless they're gambling on horse races.

Have you ever run across a militant atheist and attempted to have a logical discussion with them about anything, including the weather? They make militant pro-life activists who bomb Planned Parenthood clinics look relatively tolerant. I'd like to think whoever is the patron saint of all the nice, calm atheists would be very frown-y about that.

So. I don't buy into mainstream Christianity and you won't ever see Christopher Hitchens on one of my Dream Dinner Guest lists (you will, however find Gerard Butler twice). 

Which is going to sound so weird in a second because I do, in fact, really dig Jesus. And Buddha. And I don't think I should have to choose between those two people at all. I hate competitions like that. In fact, I sense those two crazy spiritual goofballs may have even hung out at some point, probably while enjoying green tea and myrrh cakes. 

But I get crazier: because I think you can totally combine religious beliefs and not even go to hell (because, quite frankly, I think hell is actually already here on earth, in the United States of America: it's called 24 Hour Super Wal*Mart, and it's at its scariest on Saturdays, at 2 AM, anywhere in the American South.) When people ask (and they sometimes do) what my religion is, I say, "Buddhistian." And if I could find a way to stick some Hinduism, Judaism, Islamism, Taoism, Zoroastrianism, and my great-grandma's recipe for Welsh tea cakes-ism in that word, I'd do that too.

And I don't even care if anyone wants to tell me that makes me naive, flaky, and immoral. Because listen: I've got a whole long list of past behaviors and current daydreams involving certain celebrity men with foreign accents who appear twice on my Dream Dinner Guest list that make me far more naive, flaky, and immoral than going around complaining about atheism while cherry picking my core spiritual beliefs ever can. You don't have to tell me I'm the Universe's favorite little headache; I've been painfully aware of that since I was 10. So if combining religions and spiritual beliefs tops the list of Most Flaky Immoral Behavior Ever, then my chi is doing just fine in terms of karmic justice.

I have no idea what I meant by that last line. I just know I like to insert the words "chi" and "karmic justice" into religious discussions as much as humanly possible.