The philosophical prediction effect

I made the church unfortunately and started to sweat torrentially. I wasn't even inside and I was trapped in the coffin by the pristianity of the scene, walking into a church is like strangling your self by suing a lawyer. There's just no way to win with religion, you know, if it's right, 'greater be god's glory', if it's wrong, 'it's your fault'. I'm more philosophical, and dig astrology.
Astrology and philosophy combined can lead you places religion can't.

Religion stifles me, always has with that 'hey brother come feel the love' vibe. It wigs me out, some guy smiling me down with a fat old waistline and a 70's disco car salesmen schtick disgusts me even if it really is milk and cookies? If there isn't any Life, there can't be Death, and both, Life & Death, or so religions tell me, get you to heaven. It's all preordained though, right? God is fate. New astrology makes the philosophical prediction that tides and personalities are based on fate. A philosophical prediction imbues that principle can be used to guide the astrologer, that morals can be used to make a philosophical prediction.

Yet religion says all roads lead to heaven, ain't that grand. I hear these days you can find god strapping a bomb to your nads, or in prison, asking for money, whatever. That God guy is everywhere until your rent is due and you're out of work and they cut off the cable and Billy Graham can't remind you of Him. Then he's nowhere to be found. Then god's just a repo guy named Dale wearing overalls and an inbred smile with a piece of paper with your name and number on it. A philosophical prediction could help you out of that fate.

So I'm sweating torrents crossing the tired parking lot to this church, smoking two cigarette's, taking them down, stalling, and I'm not even the one getting married, you know? A poor friend is marrying some religious nut?

I enter the cool tomblike coffin, replete with foyer and brass candelabras and grinning kids panhandling flyers like Nazi youth.

I'm really scared now, one of these white stocking Nazi kids running around, who's parent has pimped them off to David Koresh, is packing a burgeoning Martha Stewart deep inside. She'll be marketing God in no time at all. I have some philosophical predictions for her, and they involve cash and religion and the selling of the soul.

One of the halo clad little demons approaches and asks for change for a tin plate to be fed to this religious incorporation.

'Sure honey, I'll pay five bucks if it'll keep me out of hell.'

So she takes my last five bucks and beams like a proud corporate beast.

We enter the stifling vault, the one full of wafers and wine and the guy with the pointy hat and I hear those words I've been waiting forever to hear.

'Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to find you both peace and luxury and at an affordable price, and by sharing time with others in this grand universe we share expenses, and share prophet, and what will it take to get you into our congregation today?...and if I could would you???...yes...yes...yes... Just leave me alone!'

I knew I hated marriage and religion, but you know what, if I can get a new toaster and a house and a re-fi, and you'll finance it with nothing down, I guess I'll pay for marriage and religion for the rest of my life, if it will shut you up!

Thanks God

I found you again in a sales contract, full of hidden fees and ballooning interest rates. Thanks a lot!

I get to make a mistake I pay for all the way up until the time you bring me to heaven.
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