Paving the way for an early-morning, public transport lynching

Well, to put it mildly, I’m royally pissed off and the only way I’m going to put my scattered thoughts in order is to write them down. For, no matter how much I jump up and down and bitch until I’m purple in the face, it isn’t going to change the situation one whit and I’m in a fine mood for ripping off heads at this point.

You may ask why I’m so angry that I’m rendered speechless? Well, it all boils down to the fact that Joe Public, in his apathy and laziness, allows idiots to disturb the peace. Actually, I’m just pissed because someone disrupted my early morning writing session on the train. And I’m pissed because I realise that I’m one out of one hundred that actually prefers to use my brain to think and hold my own opinions, instead of digesting the semi-masticated pap vomited forth by proselytisers.

I don’t really have a problem with religion. If it blows your hair back, by all means, go and worship the Flying Spaghetti Monster, for all I care. I’m a writer and, in case you haven’t noticed that, I practice writing. I also happen to make use of public transport. I prefer to write for two hours every day instead of sitting in traffic for pretty much the same amount of time grinding my teeth. Also, I save a lot of money and help the environment by not using my car to help continue clogging up Cape Town’s already overburdened highways.

I sit quietly in my corner and mind my own business. I proof read. I write. I read. I am happy and I don’t disturb anyone on purpose, unless they just don’t like the way I dress. People talk among each other quietly next to me. They read their tabloids. They read their bibles. They sleep and I’m pretty sure that some even pray.

Then, the preacher man steps up. He opens his mouth and starts peddling his world-view loudly. He tells me that his way is the only way and that I’m a sinner and that I’m going to burn in hell. Who is he to tell me what I will and won’t do? I tell him that he is not allowed to preach on the trains, according to by-laws passed by our service provider. Of course the complication is that there are no security guards present to enforce these bylaws and none of my fellow passengers are going to stand next to me and support me. After all, I’m in the minority. As a free thinker and libertine, I am a sinner, am I not? I’m going to hell. Who am I to run myself up against a “man of God”? I don’t even believe in a god the way that he does and so many of the others in the train so clearly do. And, to make matters worse, if I kick against this man in public, I’m going to have myself lynched because I’m guaranteed that at least 70% of the people on the train are actually Christian and start giving me dangerous glares as I vent my spleen. I really don’t feel like appreciating an early morning lynching before I start my day in the office. Plus, none of the Muslims are going to back up a skinny-arse white chick wearing a purple velvet dress while sporting occultnik silver jewellery now, are they?

Of course I don’t help my cause when I tell the man loudly exactly how he can refrain from flapping his jaw. And, I certainly don’t redeem myself by resorting to name-calling, for the same labels are quite happily thrown back at me by good, indignant Christian folk – so much for brotherly love.

I find myself proof reading the same page about a dozen times, hoping that I don’t let any mistakes through. The preening fool who walks up and down the carriage continues to waffle on loudly about Original Sin, God’s Grace and the Gift of Salvation. I don’t even believe that there is such a thing as sin, thereby annulling my need for salvation. He reckons he’s doing God’s will but I reckon he just digs having people hear his voice and praising him for being such a nice, good bloke.

Sure, I don’t know what’s going to happen one day when I die but hey, I guess we all find out eventually. I just don’t have any desire to buy into afterlife insurance. I have no wish to pay the premium of giving up my freedom to someone else’s interpretations of a scripture that has been cobbled together over two thousand years by an assortment of half-mad prophets and charismatic pathological egotists.

I don’t have any guilt and I resent the fact that people naturally assume that I should or that I’m a bad person because I oppose their views. Yeah, so if I’m not with you I’m against you? So what? I used to be blinded by faith and back then I was not a happy person. However, I’m far better off pursuing my own path and you have no right to tell me that I’m wrong when we don’t even see reality in the same way. I’m no better or worse than you. Why don’t you just show some respect and let me practice my path quietly in a corner and save your preaching for people who are not a captive audience?

In the meanwhile I realise that it’s probably better just to shut the hell up. I’m not going to get the buffoon to close his trap any more than I’m going to garner support from Joe Public who “just wants to be nice”. Why must I cause myself stomach ulcers? But hell! I wish the dude wouldn’t shout so much in a confined space. My ears are ringing!