Wednesday, September 05, 2007

The Church of the Holy Brewery

Well, folks, Tuxology has not taken off the way I'd hoped. Let's face it, most folks just aren't interested in a religion where the afterlife consists of sitting on an iceberg eating raw herring. I mean, that sounds like a great afterlife to me, but I'm a penguin. And the Great Penguin, as a deity, doesn't kick a whole lot of butt. Hell, He doesn't kick anything at all, He mostly sleeps and eats herring, eats herring and sleeps. His pleasing rotundity just doesn't seem to interest most folks.

But never fear, I have a sure-fired bet for a new religion. As I pointed out in a prior post, the most successful religions around are basically glorified cargo cults. They're based all on promising people riches in the afterlife -- i.e., Heaven. The only difference between being a member of the Assemblies of God and a member of a South Pacific cargo cult is that the South Pacific islanders have actually seen the riches that their God provides, while the members of the Assemblies of God gullibly simply believe ("faith") that there's riches waiting for them once they kick this mortal coil.

Given that virtually all modern religion is a cargo cult based not upon the desire to formulate a moral framework for living but, rather, getting rewards from the Gods, a religion which is blatant and outright about it and can actually offer you the rewards while you're still alive on this Earth surely will prosper. I mean, c'mon. When you've croaked, checked out, breathed the last, expired, or otherwise kicked this mortal coil, what happens may be a matter of argument (thus far nobody has come back to tell us, after all), but a beer in hand now... why, everybody knows what that tastes like. Thus the Church of the Holy Brewery. Other religions promise heaven after you kick the bucket. But the Church of the Holy Brewery promises heaven on Earth. Or at least a good brew, which is more than any other religion promises. And all for a meagre $5 donation to the barmaid or barman at your local microbrewery -- what a deal!

--Pope Badtux the Brewerist Penguin


  1. flying spaghetti monster promises a beer volcano and a stripper factory.

    dude, i'm there.

  2. Yeah, but ya gotta be takin' the dirt nap before you get the beef volcano and stripper factory that Pastafarianism promises. Brewism gives you the goods right here on this mortal coil!

    - Pope Badtux

  3. Now a church with a party atmosphere serving libations is my kinda church.

    Talk about spreading the "Good News"!

    Now I'll have a place to blow the kids lunch money. Woohoo!

  4. my sax playing buddy rico and i got fired from the unlv radio station where we had a midnight jazz show on saturdays called "bunkhouse capers" because we invented a religion on the air. it was called "the church of jesus rocket and the latter day space cadets" and our main ceremony was called the "turbo boogie" involving strippers, corn dogs and sacrificial lap dances. for a "mondo turbo boogie" (and, of course, a small fee) we would go on a pilgrimage to our favorite titty bar (i don't remember which one, it was long before i sobered up) and perform the mondo turbo boogie for a full 18 hours thereby ensuring favorable response to our prayers.

    we were fired before 10 am the next monday morning. guess who we pissed off?

  5. This may be real selfish of me, but can I split it up? Brewism now, Pastafarianism in the afterworld?

  6. Actually, the building that houses my favorite microbrewery used to be a church. We call the Sunday beer our religious observance. Zymurgy is the word of god.

  7. When I was a teenager, my father would take off on Sunday mornings for church. I never questioned him about it, and he never bothered anyone else about going. Then when I was 15 he invited me to go along because someone had an old car they were selling, and I was looking for a cheap used car.

    That's one I found out that his church was a gathering of his old boyhood buddies and brothers to drink beer on Sunday, when all the bars were closed. I left that day with a great beer buzz (no car). I made beer church a regular Sunday observance.

    Beer at Church, they'd have no trouble getting people to fill the pews........ great idea. The Church of the Holy Brewery, do I get to get baptised in the Holy Brew?

  8. But the Church of the Holy Brewery promises heaven on Earth. Or at least a good brew, which is more than any other religion promises. And all for a meagre $5 donation to the barmaid or barman at your local microbrewery -- what a deal!

    If thats the case, my sainthood notice ought to be here any day now!


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