Aren’t we great?

I’m getting tired of people who think they are so much better than the rest of us. Like Charlie Sheen. Clearly the guy is insane, but he is a celebrity, and I suppose celebrities by definition are usually better than us. But what’s more annoying are those people living in our very own, non-celebrity communities, who walk around with a celebrity attitude, acting all entitled and special and looking down their noses at everyone else. Maybe you know someone like this? The reasons for their high falutin’ attitude are varied and can range from thinking they are better than you because they were born and raised in the town you only moved into, or because they just moved into your town and came from someplace better. Maybe they have a fancy job, or maybe they have no job even though they need the money, because they are oh-so-important around the house. Maybe they are better than you because they have big boobs, or fewer wrinkles, or no stretch marks (yeah, right!). Or maybe they are just better than you because they are the complete opposite of whatever you are. Or maybe they are exactly the same as you are but just better! Or maybe they are just assholes.

I happen to know quite a few people like this, but the one in particular that really gets my goat thinks she is better than me because she is an ordained minister. Normally I would have reverence for an ordained minister, although the way I carry on you are likely to be skeptical. My respect and reverence does not come from a place of religion or spirituality, but from the same place that I feel respect for any decent fellow human being, and reverence for anyone who is engaged in a career that he/she has dedicated themselves to, and has worked hard to achieve. Therefore, as much as I think Charlie Sheen is an idiot, I do have respect for the fact that he built a career for himself and he seems to occasionally work hard. Or at least he used to. And Wade Boggs, who happened to be a great baseball player back in the day, and even though he is a waste of life now, and can’t tambourine or even sing “Mac the Knife” as well as I, as he proved recently during our intimate karaoke encounter, I have to respect that he was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame the very next day, especially considering his hangover must have been the size of Texas, since mine was the size of Montana.

But this chick didn’t go to Seminary School or Rabbinical School or hole herself up with monks or nuns or take a vow of silence or chastity or deprive herself of anything for any amount of time, as is evident by the size of her ass. She simply made up a church and declared herself the minister. I’m telling you this made up church doesn’t even have a website, much less a building, and if you wanted to go to it you would probably just have to show up in her kitchen. I know, I know, you’re saying, “But D. Parker, God is everywhere, even in this chick’s kitchen.” Okay, I get it. But the thing is that this chick is just a bitch hiding behind a made-up church with a made-up title. She is crafty and mean, dare I say evil, and I will even admit, a little scary. I’m pretty sure she could take me down in a dark alley with no problem, but if I saw her coming I would have adrenaline and speed on my side, not to mention my half a brain. She doesn’t act loving and kind, like a real minister should, nor is she forgiving or gracious. She does, however, demand that everyone call her “Pastor,” and she thinks she is worthy of a special parking spot and a discount at the snack bar. I heard that she recently promoted herself to a Prophet, as she claims to have direct conversations with God. I know of a lot of people who hear voices but we call them Crazy, not Reverend, and as long as they stay on their meds, everybody will be okay.

Just to prove that I am just as good as she is, I decided to get ordained as well. After all, I’ve mentioned that I haven’t been getting a hell of a lot of respect around the house, and even though Maverick and my kids are not God-fearing people, I figured it might be worth a shot. Sure enough I found a plethora of churches online that would be willing to ordain me for a nominal fee. The Universal Life Church offers a “clergy pack” and claims that if ordained, I too, could have a recession-proof career, and be “provided preferred treatment, even price discounts, as a show of respect towards legally ordained religious leaders,” and all for only $32.99! The Rose Ministry Church really has it figured out: their “Ultimate Minister’s Package” comes complete with a wallet ID card and a clip-on clergy badge!! You heard me right, a clip-on clergy badge! as well as ready-to-use wedding and baptism certificates, at the low price of $189.95 per year! Friends, I kid you not.

But these churches just didn’t seem right for D. Parker, as much as I would kill for a clip-on clergy badge. With a little more research I discovered the mysterious, but New Order of Knights Templar and Daughters of Tsion. In addition to the run-of-the-mill claims the other churches are making, this one offers seminars on “majic” which I’m pretty sure is the same thing as “magic” but I suspect the different spelling means they have something to do with Satan. Anyway the best part about this “majic,” the Knights and Daughters claim, is that “working majic together can sometimes lead to romance.” Wow. Maybe I should see if I can sign up Mav and me for a majic class. But the Knights don’t offer on-line ordination, which makes me worry that it might be more of a Scientology type of cult, and I’m not up for anything that far off the charts. I haven’t been really involved in my actual religion of Roman Catholicism of late, nonetheless I’m not about to throw what little faith I have completely in the toilet.

I was just about to give up when lo and behold I came across the perfect church. The Church of the Latter Day Dude. Dudeism. The self-proclaimed, “slowest-growing religion in the world,” preaches non-preachiness and practices as little as possible. Their “take it easy, man,” approach appealed to me immediately, as did the free, on-line ordination. I became ordained quicker than you can say “make me a celebratory cocktail,” and as soon as I get my official “letter of good standing,” which was only $5, I can legally proceed with performing marriages and baptisms. But rest assured, my flock, that I am the same D. Parker I have always been, and I am quite confident when I proclaim that I am not better than you, just equally fantastic! And at this point, we are all better than Charlie Sheen.

This entry is dedicated to The Captain.