Thanks, but no thanks

It’s really weird to see the recent unqualified support for Israel coming from hardcore Christian Evangelicals, two groups of people that you’d think would have precious little in common.

Several thousand Evangelicals are in Israel right now to support the nation and to celebrate Sukkot, the Jewish festival of al fresco dining.

Seriously, though, Sukkot, like a few other Jewish holidays, is a remembrance of the hardships suffered in the past, and an opportunity to give thanks for present blessings. It’s sort of like the US holiday of Thanksgiving. Only it’s too bad that while the holiday is being celebrated, more contemplation isn’t given to the people who have been displaced by those who were blessed enough to inherit a land of abundance.

I’m talking about Native Americans, of course. Who did you think I was talking about?

According to this NPR story, while many Israelis welcome the support of the way-Christian pilgrims, some rabbis and officials are warning citizens against participating in any Evangelical-type events:

The fervor of these evangelicals worries many Israelis. Mina Fenton, a Jerusalem city councilwoman from the National Religious Party, says missionary activity has increased in recent years. She says she is even more disturbed by the theology of many of the evangelical Christians who are waiting for the Second Coming of Christ.

"Everything is linked with the belief in their messiah," she says. "They want, ultimately, any one of them, when you speak more than 10 minutes — after the political support and the economic support — they say what their aim is: The Jewish people have to convert."

Über-Christians aren’t the only ones who require conversion as the price of paradise, of course, and the Jews aren't their only targets, either, so I urge the Israelis not to take it personally. The god types have let me know more than once that when the Rapture comes, I and all my godless/gay/sexy/substance abusing/generally naughty friends will be hanging in the hot tub of eternal hellfire, while they will be enjoying the company of God himself, in a heaven that is as restricted as the Augusta National Golf Club during the Eisenhower administration.

But despair not. Because I say, let ‘em have it. Who the hell wants to live in a place that, anyway?

First of all, the music would suck. Seriously, have you ever heard Christian rock? It’s a lot like Nickelback, only without the amazing musicianship, thought-provoking themes, and timeless compositions. Plus, they only ever sing about God and Jesus. If they were to ever sing one line of any song that wasn’t about how much they love God and/or Jesus, their entire audience would wake from their worship-The-Almighty-induced trance, and start yelling at the stage “Hey, you’re not singing about God or Jesus! Stop that at once! I demand only God or Jesus-related content, please.”

Secondly, need I say that the only sex you would be having up there is of the I’d-rather-be-watching-Dancing-with-the-Stars variety?

Thirdly, no booze or drugs allowed. Some of you out there would be cool with this stipulation, others of you…um, not so much. And far be it for me to judge anyone on this count, especially since the last time I drank too much was…last night.

Hey, it was Top Chef finale night.

Fourthly, I don’t know how many of you have eaten with Evangelical types, but the food they serve is just awful. Sure it’s all mayonnaise-, jello-, or mayonnaise AND jello-based, but that’s not even the worst of it. It’s all bland as hell. Look, I once took some potato salad to a family reunion, and all I heard about all day long was how “spicy” it was. “Lord, this is so spicy!” they observed as they fanned their tongues with their reunion programs. “My goodness, does everyone in the big city eat such spicy food?” they all said as their eyes watered, and they all reached for their jumbo glasses of fucking awful sweet-ass iced tea.

What did I put in the potato salad, you ask, that caused such physical discomfort?

Garlic salt. A teeny tiny, itty bitty pinch of garlic salt.

That’s a true story.

Mostly. But back to my point, which is that their heaven would suck, and they can have it. If the price of margaritas and Kung Pao and hot, unmarried sex with my Spooney while listening to Interpol’s fucking rad new album is that I have to spend all eternity not regretting that I did it any other way, then sign me up, bubba. Sign me the fuck up.