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The Triumphant Return of Rags

So the weirdest thing has been happening to me. It's a story I know you'll never believe, but I swear to you, every word of it the truth...

          It all started way back in March. After completing my articles on Wuzup God, my rag doll, Rags (or "Refuter of All that God Sez"), had outlived his usefulness. I placed him in a big box of miscellaneous toys and goods, wrote "CANADA" on the side with a Sharpie, put it out to post and had done with it. Unfortunately, the next day, there was Rags, sitting on my doorstep, marked "Return to Sender- Address Unknown- No Such Number- No Such Zone"!

          So the next day I tried throwing Rags in a cage with a mean dog, who had a bit of a reputation about the neighborhood for chewing up little girls' dolls. But after a few moments alone with Rags, the dog wandered out, looking depressed and confused, and fell down in a heap of apathy.

          Rags had been making such a racket about town with his whining and spray-painted anarchy symbols that one by one, all the citizens of This Glorious City began banding together to help me get rid of him. Some of the things we tried to get him to leave included: forcing him to hang around in a butcher shop when we know he's a vegetarian; giving him to an annoying bicyclist who was always talking about "exercise" and "feeling your best" and "civic duty"; having a rag-box bonfire; and sending him to the moon in a hot air balloon. Each time he came back the very next day.

          Finally, we gave in and just let him write this article.

          I'm back! Good old button-eye Rags, every mother's worst nightmare, and every girl's best dream. Finally, after a six-month absence! Some people, huh?

          So wuzup with the Seven Blessed Sacraments? I mean Jesus! Let's examine them one by one.

Baptism. Baptism just seems really annoying to me. I mean, you're a baby, you're like two weeks old, and there's this priest just doing all kinds of dumb stuff to you like putting dirt on your face and dunking you in water. And going like this: "Hhuh. Hhuh. Hhuh." It doesn't even have any point to you, because you're just a baby. I think any ritual that involves little babies behaving right is just asking for screw-ups.

Confirmation. I hate confirmation. When you're a little baby, nobody really expects you to do anything, but they make you do confirmation when you're a teenager. You have to study and stuff. Studying is lame! I guess it's supposed to be confirming your baptism cause now that you're old enough, you're capable of rejecting it. When you're a little baby, you can't really say, "Don't you be baptizing me, fool!" The thing is, confirmation is totally false. You're forced to consciously reject Satan and all his works, even though you really don't want to. Or even if you want to do that, you don't necessarily want to accept Jesus in your life. It's mean because you know you want to object, but you still can't.

Eucharist. That's just a fancy word for communion. Actually I don't mind Eucharist. Drinking blood is cool. And I kind of like how you have to kneel and have the priest put the stupid wafer in your mouth. It's so S&M. Once I had a candy that was just like two communion wafers with sprinkles in between. It was gross.

Penance. Like, confession and getting forgiven and stuff. Confession is lame if you do it right. I do too many wrong stuff to keep track of it all. Anyway, who's to say what's wrong? I mean I only had a very little bit of sex with Raggedy Andy. It doesn't count if you only get to third base, right?

Extreme Unction or Annointing the Sick. Here's a tip, guys: when I'm sick, I want chicken soup, or a skilled seamstress. I don't want a priest to come and rub me with holy oil and prepare me for a safe trip to the hereafter. THAT'S NOT ENCOURAGEMENT.
          On the plus side, if I really am on my deathbed, it's nice of them to let me know. It doesn't matter what I do in life if at the last moment I say "I confess, I repent, Jesus is my savior." Automatic heaven. Pretty sweet!

Holy Orders. This is the stuff you have to do to become a priest or something. In my opinion, it doesn't deserve to make the list of the seven sacraments. I mean, these are supposed to be sacraments that apply to every average Catholic joe. Is everyone's life supposed to go "be born, come of age, do communion, do confession, be on my deathbed, become a priest, get married"? I can't count all the problems with that. People just need to THINK THINGS THROUGH!

Matrimony. The good news: you must have lots of sex when you get married. The bad news: you couldn't before. And you can only marry one person, for your whole life, and it has to be someone of the opposite sex, and it can't be a priest, and if you're a priest, you can't get married. I guess some people like getting married, and all, but it's not for me. If I ever do find one or two really cool dolls to settle down with, it'll just be me in a poorly-stitched *white* gown, a few guitar riffs of "here comes the bride" and we'll be on our way to the honeymoon. Yee-hah!

          That's it for me for now. Gotta go watch apallingly sexual cult movies and listen to my newfangled music! Bye!


- Laura