God Is Watching Us
Outside of the obvious sport distinctions, it seems like writers here at Barstool have “dibs” on certain non-athletic subjects.
Trent has an age-old axe to grind with Elon Musk (who may have sexually assaulted Trent at some point because that hatred runs DEEP). Keith covers all things “millennial” when he’s not busy telling me I am racist. Coley is the go-to conspiracy theorist during the NBA off-season. Chaps has battled diarrhea for over a decade, so he’s the fecal correspondent. And Jerry Thornton is THE guy to answer the siren call when a teacher fucks a kid.
Now I am looking for my “dibs”… Something that I can relate to and ultimately call my own.
Let me ask you something… Do you guys believe in God?
I do, but not to the extent I did as a kid.
I grew up in an Irish-Catholic home with 2 surprisingly sober parents who still go to mass every day.
My dad (who is better than your dad) started going to daily mass celebrated in Gaelic inside an old decrepit church in West Cork during the 1940’s, and he is still going every day… Albeit in a much nicer church in Brooklyn, and now he goes to hear the word of God preached in broken English.
Growing up, we went to mass as a family every Sunday. I was also an altar boy for 5 years, and during that time, I went un-diddled… I assume because none of my parish priests were pedos, but I was also a chunky kid with an unflattering bowl haircut, so maybe I just wasn’t in any of the priests’ wheelhouses. Either way, it’s a win-win for me. My childhood closet is not filled with dark memories of cold bony hands, the faint smell of incense and church wine, and the dulcet sound of organ music playing faintly in the background.
As an adult, I only go to mass every now and again. I am not just a Christmas and Easter-guy. As a matter of fact, I don’t go on major holidays. I mainly go on random Sundays with the family… Just enough to keep the kids involved until they can make their own decisions on whether or not they wanna stick with it.
One of the reasons I have kept up with religion is because as a parent I need the kids to fear a couple of things:
1) Me.
2) The police.
3) Their teachers.
4) God and/or Santa (depending on age).
I pound all 4 of these pillars into their conscience, and as a result, I have good kids that fear being hit by me, getting arrested by the cops, failing math, being sentenced to eternal damnation by the Lord, or shut out of presents by the fat man in red.
Some kids don’t have such fears. They have parents who want to be their friends first. You know the type… Fifty-year old father of 4 with his hat on backwards and eager to talk to all the kids on the lax team, even though none of them fucking matter.
I’ve seen grown men wearing clothes that look ridiculous fawn over grammar school athletes like they themselves were jockeying for a seat at the lunch table. It’s fucking bizarre. But you know me… I don’t judge.
(creepy fucking weirdos)
These kids don’t fear their parents, in the same way they don’t fear their buddies. And if you don’t fear your folks, there’s a good chance you won’t have a fear of anything else beat into you either.
Case in point…
How’d you think this young gem grew up?
You think his mom and dad ever had any real conversations about consequences with him?
You think when he knocked up a young lady at 15 and then went on to pursue a career as a perpetually stoned Soundcloud rapper that he had maybe a concerned uncle launch an intervention to set him back on the right path either with society or with the Lord?… Fucking doubtful.
No, this young drain-on-the-system got high, got naked, got wet with holy water, and then got busy with himself in front of a group of kids… All in the welcoming confines of a church.
I mean, this little pimple hit for the cycle here.
Did I disgrace my parents?… CHECK!
Did I alarm the local police?… CHECK!
Were there teachers present with the group of preschoolers that got to watch me jerk-off onto a ciborium?… CHECK!
God is allegedly everywhere, but did I make for damn sure He was present while I fucked myself in His house?… CHECK!
“He sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake.” Was I bad enough for badness sake to insure a spot on the dreaded “Naughty List”?… CHECK!
Just from the standpoint of jinxing oneself, you would think this kid would’ve shown more restraint.
“Step on a crack. Break your mama’s back.”
How about- “Beat off in mass. God will have your ass.”
He feared NOTHING, so he did EVERYTHING, and now this 21-year-old is going to prison as an adult. A prison where someone is probably going to (at least) fuck him in the mouth… Which may ultimately be a pretty ironic (but long overdue) vehicle for this man to be scared straight.
I call “Dibs!” on this lowlife cocksucker, and anyone else who jerks off in church. I assume these incidents are few and far between* (at least I hope they are), but I will stay on top of them with both feet nonetheless.
So if I may, I am now the jerks-off-in-church-guy… Keep your hands off of my subject matter, Thornton.
Take a report.
-Large
*Scratch that whole “few and far between” hope… There’s a complete page in Pornhub dedicated to masturbating in church… I won’t click on it because I still have a shot at heaven, but you sick fucks can click away.
Here’s a little cheesecake to cleanse the palate after all that ugliness… Thanks for reading all the way through.
