The Infidel

A Letter to the Pope

Mr. Benedikt,

I do appreciate that you have made an effort to come and visit one of my beloved countries, I cannot, however, for the life of me trust you or your intent in general. Why the sudden change of mind about Turkey's EU bid? Did you love seeing the churches and mosques in Istanbul? People do not change their minds like that over night or a period of four days. You were avidly refusing to accept us as equals by the sheer religious differences and now you even prayed in the Blue Mosque. You know as well as I do that Europeans will never accept Turks as equals even if we were accepted into this forsaken group of xenophobic racist countries.

I was born and raised very close to your own hometown in Bavaria and you cannot deny clinging to the same sentiments I have seen of old Germans, like yourself, hang around in beer gardens and curse Turks day in day out but then turn around when your friends are not looking and hire the same man or woman to clean your bathrooms, collect your trash, and make your Kebabs. Why are you now courting us when you are not that fond us in your own home country? Did you finally figure out that there is not enough youth in Europe to pay for your retirement? Did you finally figure out that without the Turks by your side you will be weaker?

I do not trust you or your intent and when the day comes that you will show your true face I will not be disappointed in that I knew all along. Muslim rulers have done the same across the Middle East, and I do not trust them either. You are just like them but in a different mask, in different clothing. You preach the same divisions by the virtue of your God instead of theirs; you preach the same rules by the word of your book instead of theirs; and indeed, you preach that yours is a better way to heaven instead of theirs. But all along you forget that your interests are not that of humanity, and with that not that of Turks.

I do not trust you, but I do appreciate that you came and saw my beautiful people, my beautiful Istanbul, my beautiful Turkey.

Thank you.

Oh, when the Saints...

Yesterday was St. Patrick's Day and I must say that this has got to be the most fantastic way of celebrating the death of any religious figure. Drink alcohol, party, and get laid (if you so wished or if you cared to remember). So, after waking up this morning I have pondered the thought of praying to St. Patrick and thanking him for having been the reason for this glorious day... Oh wait, no I did not. Instead I did some research on him.

Saint Patrick, apparently, was appointed bishop of Ireland when Christianity had just started spreading through the British Isles in the 5th century AD.  So, this fellow, then, having seen the light himself and wanting everyone else to see it like him, decided to convert as many Irish as bishoply possible. He went around the country and established monasteries and churches everywhere; the monasteries to keep the clergy coming, and the churches to keep the people coming. After three decades of showing Celtic Druids to Christianity missionary style he died on March 17, 493 AD. After mourning his death year after year someone finally stood up and said "What the hell are we doing guys? Let's get some booze, music and bitches in here, so that we can celebrate the conversion of Ireland, the legacy of Patrick, the right way, god damn it." After a few beers, songs and muses, they all saw the light brighter than ever before. Well, "Halleluja!!!", I say.....

This makes me think though. What would religions do without the forced suggestion (yes, this is an oxymoron, I know) of some that their God/Prophet/[Insert Holyness right here] has a brighter (and bigger) beam of light hidden in his pants than other Gods? What would Ireland look like if Saint Patrick would not have been so ambitious with such admirable missionary style? Come to think of it, why did they name that position missionary style anyways?.....  Amen, and chug......