Chapter 1 – In the beginning there was the word - By Rick

“Religion?”
“You?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m angry”, I replied. “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take this anymore.”
“Network, 1976 with Faye Dunaway and William Holden. Oh that was one of my all time favorites.”, Jim gushed.
“But doesn’t Rick have to kill himself?”, Sharron continued. “Hey maybe that’s how he’s going to start his new religion. He’ll commit suicide on national television. Sorry Rick. That’s already been done. Besides how can you start a new religion if you’re dead?”
“Wait, wait.”, Lumpy leapt in. “That’s where we come in. Jesus didn’t start Christianity, his disciples did. We’ll have to be his disciples after his death. But I don’t know. Bakeranity doesn’t sound like much of a name for a religion. I think we would make pretty cool disciples though. Might work.”
My friends were on a roll. At this moment I’m using the word “friends” guardedly. I guess I should have known better than to start a serious discussion with the Thursday Night Philosophers. As if he was reading my mind, Dennis chimed in with “People, people stop. You’re not taking Rick seriously. He’s more in to Enron Hubbard than Jesus. Maybe it’s going to be Scientology II and he’ll ditch us all and take up with Tom Cruise and Paris Hilton. That’s it isn’t it Rick. This is your way of telling us that it’s over, you’re moving on. We’re not good enough for you anymore.”
“What do you mean, ‘anymore’? I’m deadly serious and hold off on the wise-ass for a minute. I’m going to start a new religion. Somebody’s got to and since I thought of it, it’s up to me.” I shut up and downed the rest of my Guinness.
Apparently I’m a lot wittier than I thought. They all burst into hysterical laughter. I think Lumpy came close to pissing himself because he flew off to the john faster than if the waitress had come around with the bill. When he came back the others were still chortling to themselves, except maybe Sharron who was giggling like a silly school girl.
Dennis spoke up first. “For Christ’s sake Rick. Oops. Maybe I should have said for Rick’s sake. Oh no, we’ll need a whole new collection of swear words.” The Four Stooges let go with another round of knee-slapping laughter.
“Done yet?”
They weren’t. My wit set them off even louder. Assholes!
Finally Sharron sobered up, well sort of, and said “C’mon Rick. You’re a devout atheist. How can you be the one to start a new religion?”
“So this will be a religion without a God. Maybe religion isn’t the right word but I’m not sure what else to call it. What we need is something for people like us, something like a church where people can gather together and get inspired and talk about important things.”
“A religion without a God. Let me sit with that a bit. But doesn’t a religion need some sort of faith in something, some sort of moral code or belief?” she added.
“Look I haven’t thought too much of this out yet, but yes of course it needs a moral code. I’m not sure about a faith or a belief. Those notions go along more with a superpowerful being so whatever we come up with, it would have to be something a bit more realistic.”
The yokels quieted down a bit and actually looked as if they were thinking about what Sharron and I were saying. Lumpy broke the silence. “What do you mean, ‘a bit more realistic’, and what do you mean, ‘we’?”
“Realistic means real Lumpy. You know, things like a glass of beer or a Porsche. Not some notions that come out of the beyond that people are supposed to take seriously. And by ‘we’ I mean us, the Thursday Night Philosophers. From time to time you four show signs of having IQs that get into 3 digits.” I was still smarting and needed to jab and poke a bit more. Nobody cared, nobody bit.
Dennis was next. “Ok RB, so you’re serious and we should start a new religion. Can you enlighten us as to where this out-of-left-field bombshell came from? You’re a software analyst, not a theologian. What has you thinking about religion at all?”
“Good question Den. Here let me show you what got by blood boiling.” I pulled out a newspaper article that I had saved from this morning’s paper and unfolded it onto the table. The headline sneered out at us.

Faithless are coarse, uncaring and without purpose, says Cardinal Snelling

“I saw this headline as I was drinking my breakfast coffee and went ballistic. I’m still not sure why I reacted so strongly but I did. I read the whole article a few times and every time I did I got angrier. It was as if the headline ended with ‘And I’m talking about you Rick Baker.’ I reacted so personally to it and yes Jim, I was just like what’s his name in Network who suddenly snapped and yelled out the windows that he just couldn’t take it anymore. I’m aware of how irrational this all sounds. I mean it’s just a newspaper article about what some Roman Catholic high and mighty said and it’s not like it hasn’t been said before. But somehow I got what he was saying and it insulted me. It insulted me to the heart of my being and I spent the whole day thinking about it instead of working. I downloaded the full text of his speech just to make sure it wasn’t some exaggerated misquote intended to get people like me to write letters to the editor. And it’s what he said and worse. I brooded all day and then tonight it all came out.”
“I think what got to me was that this spook-worshipper is serious. He really does think that about the faithless of the world. Read through the article. Wherever you find the word ‘faithless’ or ‘secularist’ or whatever, substitute the word ‘Jew’. Would he have dared to say that in public? Wouldn’t the media have been all over him in an instant and pulverized him in their editorials and commentaries? Yet I scoured the internet, watched some of the TV newscasts before coming here and other papers and not a word of condemnation or ever mild criticism from anywhere.”
“Amigos he’s attacking us. He’s saying that we are ‘coarse, uncaring and without purpose’. Or look here, that we have‘… nothing but fear to distract themselves from the fact that without God the universe has no objective purpose or meaning. Nothing beyond the constructs they confect to cover the abyss’. I still don’t know why I got so bloody outraged but I did. All bullshitting aside, you guys are not coarse, uncaring and without purpose. We’ve been meeting almost every Thursday for 17 years now – I worked it out – and we’ve covered pretty much every topic I can think of from the profound to the ridiculous so I think I know you. The man is an idiot or a liar or both and we are the target of his abuse.”
I stopped speaking to catch my breath and cool down a bit. “Maureen another round here”, I said as our server went by.
Nobody spoke. I could see that no one was bored or had tuned out. Something I said had touched a chord although I didn’t know yet which one. As Maureen set our drinks down, Lumpy broke the silence. “Rick we all really got how pissed off you are at this. And I think I can speak for the others if I say that we get that this Snelling is really putting us down. But an angry reaction to something isn’t enough to start up a religion or whatever you want to call it. Have you really got something more in mind or is this just a well-deserved rant and a good night’s sleep will settle you down? Where do you see this going?”
Lumpy aka Morris Glickman was our token theist, a lapsed Jew who hadn’t been to a synagogue since his Bar Mitzvah. He was also a very successful lawyer and our adjudicator when our discussions got heated.
“Lumpy I’m not sure. I’ve never felt like this before and I just have this sense that this is important to me and it’s not going to go away. Not ever.”
“So let me put this on the table. I’ll go away until next Thursday night and think about all of this. I’ll write a few things down and bring them to our next session. If what I say grabs all four of you, we can spend the night talking about it. But it has to be all four. If even one of you is hesitant we’ll drop it for the TNPs. Then I’ll go over what ever I come up with and bring that back for next week. And we’ll keep doing this until I either run out of steam or one of you votes nay.”
Lumpy drained his glass and stood up. “Ok Scheherazade. I’m in. Lady, gentleman. I’m calling it a night. Rick I await next week with dare I say piqued enthusiasm.”
“Yeah that’s it for me too people.” Jim said. “Next week for sure RB. I’m with Lumpy.”
“Me too.” Sharron and Den chimed in together.
As they filed out I sat there wondering what in hell I had done. As Maureen brought the bill over, I realized that they stiffed me for the tab!
“See you next week Dudes.” I thought to myself.

Erica Jong is wrong... by Peta

“If you don’t risk anything, you risk more.”

God knows what she was thinking when she came out with this pearl of wisdom. And what the hell was I thinking when I followed this advice??? Erica Jong has a lot to answer for. Shame she didn’t think to follow on with advice that could be useful to us poor idiots who went down this path and now find themself, in a dark dank basement, with their hands tied tightly behind their backs, and their bladder about to pop it is so full with no relief in sight. And that’s just a few of my current problems. Add to that the splitting headache I have as a result of being thwacked over the head with a piece of four by two, the blood trickling down the side of my head from the wound and the bloody annoying itch in my groin that I cannot scratch. I think this officially falls into the category of “a bad day at the office”!

This PI lark used to be fun once upon a time but things have changed. The punters definitely have more street smarts these days and they are onto you like a shot if you slip up. And you can’t trust a bloody snitch any more – well, could you ever really? Probably not but at least you knew pretty well how to play ‘em. Jimmy Little used to be reliable. But now his old lady is in the slammer for B&E, his taste for the good life leads him astray. At least that’s what I figure got me here. He played both sides and gave me up for a few bucks. When we met over a beer just a day or so ago, he told me unequivocally that the job was going down tonight. So I stake out this crappy joint all night waiting for some action. My client has paid me pretty well (and in advance if the truth be known) to get some hard evidence, photos even, of the blokes involved in the heist. He doesn’t like being taken for a ride, no sirree. Word on the street was that this mob were going to do over his store and take the lot, everything. Unisured as he is, Mr Taylor was not happy with that prospect.

Enter good old Phil, PI extraordinaire. “No problem Mr Taylor, I can take care of that for you like a charm.” Ha! After a mind numbing couple of hours squatting in the bushes, they jump me. Who, I don’t know. One minute I am planning my next great seduction of Julie Filmore to pass the time and the next thing I’m here bound up like a Christmas turkey waiting to go in the oven, no escape route in sight. A fine predicament.