A Devilish Dialogue
Mayor Bob is doing well. I visited him yesterday during band practice and a short pop-in at the pub. He's learned to speak using his prosthetic larynx. It may be easier to understand him now than it was beforehand. There's a hole in the front of his neck where a diaphragm is used to mimic the vibrations of a larynx. The mayor places his finger lightly against a small disk on his throat and talks. He occasionally struggles with the combined talking and breathing but he's learning. I was very happy to carry on a conversation with Bob delving into our usual political discussions and issues of the day. For the first time in public I referred to him as the Mayor of Bohemia. The pub regulars delighted in the unofficial title I've bestowed upon our friend Bob. The shoe fits.
I met a new pub character. John the Satanist took offense to my being an atheist. He can't relate to my believing in nothing, no judgment day, no after-life and no faith in a higher being. At first I assumed he was Christian but was rebuked. "I'm no fucking Christian, I worship Satan." He wasn't actually offended but he was indignant and argued vociferously against my positions on religion, guns, the death penalty and perceived morality. We share an odd sense of humor and were laughing loudly enough to stir the curiosity of nearby patrons. Some joined but as our strange conversation drifted into the macabre they turned away.
John the Satanist believes in god and the devil. "Atheism is just wrong!" he loudly exclaimed, spilling his drink, "You people have NOTHING! You don't talk. There's no dogma. How do you know right from wrong? Atheists have no rules. You don't meet?" He was demonstrative and firm in his position that believing in nothing is wrong headed.
"I've got it! We should congregate, we need a church!" I offered in a response of irony. He laughed, slapped the bar choking on his beer. "We need to talk about morality to develop a code of conduct for Atheists. Of course we'll then have to name our 'book of rules' and once you go there you may as well name your group. The Congregational Church of Atheism. That'll do." I was mocking him, just a little. "I'll start designing funny hats and symbols of idolatry to make the whole atheism thing more comfortable for you believers." I was trying to make John see the silliness in his position that atheism is wrong based on his simple argument we don't act like believers. We don't have meetings to discuss what we don't believe in. So what.
My new Satanist friend was correct. We atheists have nothing. I'm good with the unbelieveing church of nothingness. I explained that I came from a religion of big hats, costumes, grand cathedrals of gold leaf, stained glass and ornate alters to the worship of god almighty. I've had enough religious pomp and circumstance to know I don't need it. As we moved on from the irony of his 'atheists should talk' position we got into the 'right versus wrong' and how morality is defined. I disagree with the dictation of morality and values. He actually asked me "How do you know not to shoot someone who wrongs you?' ..... "Well, for one thing, I don't own a gun. And I'm not a violent man." Our dialogue was all over the map jumping between moral and social issues.
When I stated, "I'm not against your right to own a gun but I have never owned a firearm in my life." He thought I was crazy. "Are you nuts? I own many guns, so many I don't know how many. The world is a scary place. There's a gun in every room of my home readily available so if some low-life comes through my front door meaning harm to my family. I'll shoot him before he gets near me." I asked if he was expecting intruders in his home. "Damn right I am, I'm counting on it. I want to kill a son-of-a-bitch who preys on people. I'm looking forward to it."
It was at this point I first noticed a few uncomfortable expressions on nearby listeners. Trust me when I say I'm leaving out large portions of our discussion. The entire time this guy had me wondering if he was for real or just playing-it-up for shock value. I felt uneasiness as we verbally sparred but I also sensed a tinge of adrenaline.
John's "I want to kill predators." position made it easy for me to segue into the death penalty issue. He jumped in with wide-eyes . "I'm against the death penalty! We shouldn't give murderers what they want, the easy way out." I assumed he meant we should only incarcerate killers but he quickly corrected me. "We should be torturing the bastards. Put it on television so everyone can see what we do to sick bastards like Jeffrey Dahmer. Charles Manson should be tortured every day of his life, on live television!"
People are leaving now as our discussion goes from a little strange, to bizarre, to disturbingly macabre. I had moments of discomfort, especially when he casually mentioned he could make one phone call and have someone killed. He seemed willing to dial the number for me suggesting the man might be at his house as we spoke.
While he rambled on about torturing murderers, rapists and other cretins who've committed heinous crimes my mind wandered into internal discussion 'Is this guy serious or just fucking with me? He might be completely insane but his expression was so clear and articulate I suspected he was okay, maybe." I honestly didn't know if he was making this shit up for shock value, having fun with a twisted sense-of-humor, or did he really wish we tortured people on prime-time TV. I decided to play along.
"If you're going to go to the trouble of producing a television show to broadcast the torture of convicted predators you may as well go all-the-way and make it a reality game show." The look in his eyes told me he liked the cut of my jib. "You can have contestants awarded the privilege of choosing the method of torture. The grand prize could be performing the dirty deed themselves." He went off, "That's a great idea!" with a Mansonesque look in his eyes. I was just going along to get along but this guy may have been serious.
I looked over to Mayor Bob with my best "help me" expression as I was thinking it was time to extricate myself from this conversation. I haven't shared the entirety of our dialogue leaving out some of the most disturbing points. When John's cell phone went off I was rescued and used that opportunity to strike up a conversation with the mayor.
I've met some strange people in Bohemia. I've had some interesting conversations over a few pints at the pub. Yesterday may have been the most bizarre. There were a few disgusted patrons. My strange sense-of-humor and ability to not take offense to otherwise loathsome opinions enabled me to play along. It was interestingly odious. This morning Crazy Chris informed me there's a clique of satanists in Bohemia. Some people won't talk to John. I may never see John the Satanist again. And I would be okay with that.