Good God! Bad God?

There I was, traipsing back from the food court with my workday lunch -- terriyaki chicken -- and a bottle of port for later enjoyment. (I figure that since copious booze is a bad thing on anti-depressants, I would instead buy fine port, of which I can enjoy one or two ounces per night. There was this old woman who died at about 122 or so in France who claimed the secret to her longevity was: an ounce of dark chocolate a day, a glass of port each night, and the occasional cigar. Except for the cigar, I figger she's onta somethin'.)

Anyhow, what should I see?

A family of five, clearly American tourists, all clad in religious t-shirts.

Call me judgmental (or a sinner who's going to hell in a handbasket -- if there's one my size) or something, but I think there's something CATASTROPHICALLY WRONG with having your 10-year-old kid wear a shiny, happy, pink t-shirt emblazoned with:

When I pass,
I'll be with my lord
and saviour
Jesus Christ!

Insert happy face below that, and you've got what I saw on a little 10-year-old kid.

Fuck, man. When I was raised, religion was a moral compass, nothing more. It wasn't a slogan, and it sure as hell it wasn't a yardstick by which all people were measured. Regardless of how scarred I might be from that Catholic upbringing, I was never raised to judge others or to preach to them.

In fact, when I was indeed preaching to the kids in the neighbourhood, my mother told me to put a sock in it. "They have the right to believe whatever they want," she told me. "Just because we believe it to be right doesn't necessarily make it so. We believe, but we don't judge, and we don't push others to agree with us. Understand?"

Pity the same isn't more widespread. I sometimes wonder if people have read the same Bible as I have. Jesus was a pretty hip guy. Tolerant, understanding. Well, except for the merchants-in-the-temple business, of course. Had a bit of a hissy fit there, but usually the dude's food sugar level was clearly pretty balanced.

Stupid religion. Sigh.