Religious people continue to amuse me and sometimes baffle me.Whether it's the Pope being asked to resign over lifting the excommunication of a Holocaust-denying priest, or the Reverend Ted Haggard making talk-show rounds hawking a book about his sexual sins, the behavior of godly men often provides a chuckle.
But it's the fundamentalist Christians who often make me do a double-take.
A few days ago I was driving along a highway in north Georgia, the buckle of the Bible-belt. I came up behind a late-1990's lavender-colored pickup truck.
Attached to the rear of the truck were two large white vinyl magnets. One of them bore a representation of the two tablets of the Ten Commandments. I couldn't read the wording over the tablets.
I had no trouble reading the other magnet, though. Emblazoned in huge block letters, it said:
IF IT AIN'T KING JAMES
IT AIN'T BIBLE
IT AIN'T BIBLE
Eventually, I passed the truck, and couldn't resist checking out the driver. Long blond hair was all I could see. Just as I was thinking, "Aha, a young woman caught up in a Christian cult!," the driver turned, revealing a thin, 50-something year old man with a cheesy pencil-thin blonde mustache of the type I haven't seen since the 1970s. He looked more like an aging hippie than he did a "mountain man."
After I passed him, the incongruities increased again. The front of the truck bore a license plate painted with what I always considered a Catholic symbol: the bleeding heart of Jesus.
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