Stand, sit, kneel and I need more cow bell!

As you may have figgered if you've ever read anything I've ever written on this hear blog, I didn't growed up round no religion. Or, as my pops likes to say, I'm unchurched.

This fact was never more evident than the other day when I about lost my gourd during the funeral of one of yet another one of my uncle's named Joseph. You see my dad had nine brother's and one sister. 8 of the ten weenie-haver's were named in honor of He Who Got None. The lone "split tail" - as redneck's like to say - in the group was named Mary. My fucking dad's family should have had a show on Fox called When Catholicism Attacks.

I couldn't get up and tear out at any point during the mass at the church because I was in the first stink row and I was a paw bear or however you spell it. I took the honor of throwing my uncle in a hole seriously, but the rest of it I just don't fucking get. First of all, when we walked into the joint, the geezer who looked deader than Scorpion (my uncle's nickname), was walking in front of his box carrying a huge cross. I thought for a minute we were renacting a scene from Raiders of the Lost Arc. One of my cousin's son's was wearing what appeared to be a white potato sack with strategically cut holes for his head and arms in it with a rather stylish lime green rope belt that seems to be all the rage for young 10 year old Catholic boys. He's apparently an alter boy. Now, I could digress into a rant about the ramifications of what that may or may not mean but I saw no evidence that Father Pete O'phelia had been fooling around his rectory, if you know what I'm sayin. As for the guy that was apparently on the Masters Tour for Alter Boys, I have no clue what that was all about. He stood there the whole service and helped my second cousin fetch an astonishing array of religious paraphernalia. Huge ass bronze paddles, a silver plated thing with incence in it, some fancy ass bronze wine glasses, some big bowl things with some rather dainty crackers and stick that had a ball on the end that slung water. With all this shit, you could almost envision a priest standing on a street corner outside of Catholic churches asking people if they needed anything after mass and then opening their coats to give them a fix. That or opening their coats to show them wearing nuthing but a collar and a hard-on. See, I just can't get away from the sex scandal.

Anyway, back to the funeral. There was an actual choir singing in the upper deck behind the pews. That was kind of weird. They were belting out the appropriate tunes in response to what Father Chris preached. I've never been to a funeral with a live band. I mean no one yelled out "Freebird" or anything but it was strange. At the end, out of nowhere, unannounced, some guy belted out "Wind Beneath My Wings". I about cracked up. The guy's voice was cheezy to say the least. I kept thinking Bette Midler in drag had shown up at Cut's (yet another nickname) funeral and had decided to liven things up. I got over it once I realized one of my cousin's who I really admire asked that that song be sung in honor of his dad. Otherwise, the yuck factor was high.

I think Catholics invinted step aerobics. What the fuck is the deal with all the standing, sitting and knealing? I thought that extra little bar thing with the pad in front of the pew was a foot rest. Then everyone kept getting up and kneeling on it. Then sitting down. Then kneeling again. They should hand out programs to the unchurched like me before you go to one of these things. Hell, they should almost make you take a physical. There were some old bastards in the back that I didn't think were going to make it with all the chanting about hailing cabs, excuse me, Mary's and kneeling, and then praising the Eucharist tree or whatever it is. What's with all that chanting? I felt like a Moose at an Elk's Lodge meeting. I mean even my dad remembered some of the chants from the days when he use to get beat for not eating all his lunch and repeated some of them for old punches-to-the-nose-from-a-nun's-sake.

And then you got your priest. Father Chris was his name. He was from New York. Once again, you wonder, how did he end up in this tiny town in KY? He would start sentences like, "Were hear today because we're missing someone, but we'll get to that later." He was all about glossing over stuff. He had a northern accent and his tongue smacked his front teeth when he talked. While the choir was belting out songs, he sat in this big wooden chair and appeared to sleep. After the mass and service, several of my family members remarked how great he was because of how fast it all went. Body Mass came in at just under an hour and by all accounts that is miraculous. Praise jesus!

While the service was going on - I almost forgot - there was one point when Fr. Chris was reading from some black book. I can't remember its name. Uh, um...... oh yeah, I think its called the Bible. Anyway, he was reading from "The Bible" and when he read a certain passage, out of nowhere, unannounced, a fucking bell rang. I immediately looked up and wondered if a train was coming threw or someone had ordered Rice-a-Roni. I saw no train tracks and I did not see any waiter so I just thought my Topamax had misfired and I let it go. Everyone sat back down, kneeled again, stood, sat, knealed, sat, stood, sat, back to standing and we were knealing again. Some more chanting. They really should have beer tenders or soda jockeys at these things too. A fewl could make serious ducketts selling concessions during Catholic services. Call it Masscessions. Anyway, Fr. Chris went back to explaining that we were going to spend different amounts of time in purgatory - which led me to believe I need to open a liquor store there - and that's when I heard that goddamn bell again. But that time I saw my mathematical cousin ring it. He quickly put it up and bowed his head like a good altered little boy after doing so and like nothing had ever happened. I looked around to see if this freaked anyone else out and no one else seemed even startled by this event. I couldn't help but to think that I had been placed in the real life funeral version of the Christopher Walken SNL "I Need More Cowbell" Blue Oyster Cult Skit.

What in the holly hell does a fucking bell have to do with Jesus? I mean, unless he ever stood out in the cold in Jerusalem and collected $$$ for the Salvation Army (If he did, it truly would have been the Salvation Army.) I doubt he ever had anything to do with a bell. I'm not saying the Catholics have any of it wrong I just don't understand all the rituals and all the paraphernalia and gadgets they invovle in their beliefs. Either you believe in God or you don't. Cut out all the bullshit and just believe. I think this is why Catholics drink so much is because they're subjected to these long ass services and all that standing, sitting and knealing. The drinking is the one part of Catholicism I agree with.

On a lighter note, my uncle was a skinny dude and he was not hard to lift. We were joking that we could have cornholed him at the cemetary and, if we did with three tosses we should have gotten the funeral free. He was a good guy who loved his wife and children and he fought off emphesyma for years and was ready to give it up. As he went from the coronary care unit to the room where he died after he told them he just didn't want to feel any pain any more he gave my other uncle's a thumbs up and stuck his tongue out at his kids. He died like a man. That's the way to go out.

I also learned that the real name of my cousin Cut Bait is John Paul. Thank god. I could just see being on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire and the final question being, "What is the real name of your first cousin Cut Bait" and not knowing it and not having any lifelines left. That would have sucked. For the record, he is the son of my dad's youngest brother - yes, the last Joseph - and he is less than 1/2 my age and his dad and my dad are not that close. I'm not as big of an asshole as I seem for not knowing that answer. I promise to give him some of my winnings because I now feel guilty.

...I'm just sayin.....