(Via forcarl)

Not much story to tell actually, because basically it occurred at age 10 or earlier. I’m now 64. But it was at age 10 when I attended church with my mother to keep her company. The minister was in his normal rompin’ and stompin’ modes, delivering his BS in hast eagerly anticipating the passing of the plate and even at that age, I had to leave feeling much like I was at carnival only a lot less fun. The whole “chosen people” speal along with the hell fire and brimstone and other equally bizarre assertions was more than I cared to listen to, and never really bought into it in the first place. I suppose my parents weren’t all that impressed either as they never required that I attend again. My parents gave me a lot of latitude in my formulation of my worldview. I was lucky in that respect.