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Thursday, June 01, 2006


When I got to work today, one of the interns was sitting on one of the large rocks in front of the office door. No one had arrived to let us in, apparently, so I sat down with her to shoot the shit, as it were. Because I was feeling friendly. I don't know why. Usually, I am not friendly that early in the morning. Usually, I am very much like "Get away or I'll eat your face off. Fucker."

So she asks if I go to school. I get asked that a lot, living where I do, because everyone my age around here goes to school. Except me. Because I don't need no education.

I tell her, "No, I do not go to school."

"Oh, did you graduate?"

"Nope. I possess a lowly high school diploma only."

"Oh. Well...what do you do here?"

"Content management. Web design. Tech support."

"How do you do all that without having gone to school?"

"I am magic."

"Oh," she says, nodding.

We sit in silence for a minute, then she says: "Have you read The Da Vinci Code?"

"No. I tried to, but got two pages into it and wanted to set it on fire."



"Well, I thought it was very thought-provoking," she tells me.

"Did you."


"You know it's not real, right?"

"Well, I think that..."

"It's fiction."


Silence. I realize I am not being very nice and I should not scare Intern on her very first day.

"So...did you like the book, then?"

"Yes. But I'm spiritual, not religious."

Oh fuck sake. If that isn't one of the most annoying phrases in the English language, I don't know what is. "I'm spiritual, not religious" does not mean anything. You might as well say, "I'm calamari, not megalomaniacal" or "I'm sea lamprey, not justified." See? No sense. That is what that is like. Note to Everyone: Do Not Tell Zombie You Are "Spiritual, Not Religious" or She Will Want to Claw Out Your Eyes.

Actually, don't even tell me you're "spiritual," because that annoys me almost as much.

"Ah," I say. I force myself not to tell her that's a retarded thing to say. After all, she is painfully young and possessed of a shiny, eager face. She means well. I hope she doesn't tell me she's pagan, though. I have a hard time keeping my mouth shut in front of pagans, even well-meaning, shiny ones. Especially well-meaning, shiny ones, actually. Oh well.

"I am Christian more than anything, though," she says. "Are you spiritual?"




"So you don't go to church or anything?"

"No. No, I don't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm atheist."

Small gasp. From her, not me. I am used to my atheism. It does not shock me anymore.

"So you don't believe in anything at all?! That's horrible!"

"That's not what 'atheist' means, sugar." Yes, I sometimes call people "sugar." It is a genetic problem. Also "honey." There is a tiny Scarlett O'Hara locked inside of me, begging for release. I think the hoop skirt is snagged on my spleen. Have to get that looked at. Anyway.

"What's it mean, then?"

Sigh. So I break out the old stand-by, "Okay, like, as a Christian, you believe in your god, but lack belief in Zeus, right? As an atheist, I just believe in one less god than you do. Like that."

"Oh. But what about evolution?"

"What about it?"

"Do you believe in that?"


"Oh. So who do you think created the universe?"

"No, saying I don't 'believe in' evolution does not mean I am a creationist. Evolution does not require belief. I accept it for the fact that it is."


"It's a fact. Evolution does not knock on your door, asking that you please believe in it as some of your fellow theists do. It just does what it does and that's that. It's not a matter of belief."

"Oh. I don't believe in evolution."


"Okay," I say.

"I don't really know anything about it, though. But I hear it's bad."

"Uh...okay. Why 'bad'?"

"Because, you know, I believe in God and all that, and even if I'm not into the whole organized religion thing, I think SOMETHING must have created us and so..." she trails off.

"Ah. Well, try to bear this in mind: evolution does not disallow for a creator god, okay? It does not tell us HOW we got here. Only what we did after we showed up."


"Yes, really."



"It's okay with me that you're an atheist," she announces finally. "I don't mind. Everyone should be entitled to their own beliefs."

"...or lack thereof, yes. Thanks. I'm okay with it, too. Or something."

She smiles. I try not to want to shove something sharp into my ear.

Then, thankfully, Boss shows up to let us in and I escape to my red, red office and let the red, redness soothe my homicidal mania and allow us all to live to see another day.

If I ever own my own company, when I make the applications for potential employees to fill out, it's going to say, "Are you spiritual, not religious? Check yes or no," and anyone that checks 'no' will be hired and given cookies and anyone that checks 'yes' will be immediately shot in the face and dumped into a ravine.

Because I will be an Equal Opportunity Employer like that.

Yes, indeed.

link | posted by Zombie at 8:26 PM |


Blogger skippystalin commented at 9:56 PM~  

I suggest that you lure the spiritual (but not religious) to the ravine with cookies, them shoot them in the face and dump them. That way you needn't drag the corpse from your red, red office to the ravine, which could be problematic given that you have no car. Also, you could get a hernia that way.

And yes, I am very crafty. Devious even. But you didn't think I got to be Dick Cheney's Chief of Staff solely on my good looks, did you?
As a matter of fact, my ugliness means that I have to be three times as crafty and devious as the next guy. If only I was adorable and malevolent, like Adam Rich from Eight is Enough, life woud be so much easier.

I sometimes wish I had big boobies that people could whistle at and grope. Then I could use sexual herassment lawsuits (or the threat thereof) as my means of getting ahead. I only ever got one promotion because of my giant penis. And I don't like talking about that.

I've gone shockingly off-topic again, haven't I?

I am sorry.

Anonymous Hunter commented at 10:43 PM~  

You should've eaten her face. The world needs more faceless Interns.

Anonymous Indigenous Insurgent commented at 2:19 PM~  

"I don't really know anything about it, though. But I hear it's bad."

Yeah. That pretty much says it all...

Blogger Ford commented at 10:51 AM~  

The walls of your red-red office aren't red becauser you painted them with the blood of those that displeased you are they?

Cause that would be cool.

Blogger Zombie commented at 1:40 PM~  

No, they were red when I got them...

Anonymous Hunter commented at 2:29 PM~  

If she'd painted them with the blood of those that displeased her, the walls would be brown, because that's what blood does when it dries. It turns brown -- sometimes almost black,depending on the material that gets stained.

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