6:17 p.m. | 2002-10-21 The Godfather. Quite accurately, my Godfather identified me as a sinner while I was in high school. And I am a sinner. I also have buckets of fun. In fact, I�ve had lots of sinful fun. But, I don�t think I'm much worse than the average bear when it comes to straying from the righteous path. (I really have no clue how sinful bears are but there it is.) When I was baptized as a wee little infant, a couple was named as my Godparents, a Great Aunt was named as my Godmother and a friend of my parents was named as my Godfather. As I grew up, I figured Godparents were supposed to send you gifts and stuff, like my sisters� did for them. I had no fucking idea they were responsible for teaching me how to save my soul from eternal damnation. (I didn�t learn about that part until I was an adult. And, by then, it was surely too late to cleanse my soul of the devil�s fingerprints.) Anyway, my Godparents really never did anything that I can remember. My Godmother always sent me cards and gifts but she was far away so I didn�t see much of her. Whole different story with The Godfather. He took his job rather seriously. I own three different bibles, all gifts from The Godfather. And yes, I would show them to you if I had any idea where they were. Of course, they�re somewhere in all my stuff. Geesh. He would send me letters and visit. He was always telling me about God and stuff. At first, it wasn�t so bad but then it got really weird and kind of creepy. He would come to visit when I was in high school and take me out to lunch. Sometimes he would give me things. Once, the Lord told him to bring me a plant. I thought that was fine. Another time, God told him he must bring me a portable tape player/radio. Damn, I was loving the Lord that day! (Unfortunately, I lost the religious cassette tapes that he also gave me. I can be ditzy like that sometimes.) While we would ride in the car to lunch, he would play religious tapes. At first, they startled me as they were always �Holy Roller� kind of preachers, going ballistic with the �Glory Hallelujahs�, �Amens� and �Let me hear you now� stuff. (The church I went to with my family was well, rather, sedate.) After I got used to it though, I found it rather entertaining, although quite redundant after a while. Of course, I would cringe some too since he usually came to visit on Sundays which, for me, usually followed some sort of sinful night for which I would ask for forgiveness on Sunday morning at church, with or without a hangover and/or hickeys. I used to teach Sunday School. Imagine that. So, as time went on, he got worse. He started writing me letters telling me that I was going straight to hell due to my sinful ways. One- and two-page letters started becoming six- seven- eight-page letters. And, they were filled with hell and brim fire predictions. My eternal soul was so damned, I was lucky that I hadn�t yet been struck dead already. Apparently, I needed to do a lot of praying, and even then, he wasn�t sure if that would be enough to save me. Alas, I was an illustration of the devil�s handiwork. The last time I heard from him, he sent me a letter, the little certificate thing that named him as my Godfather, and every single photo he had of me. His letter said that he could no longer be my Godfather because he wasn�t qualified. He just didn�t have enough faith. I believe by that time, he was going to his local mall and airport on a daily basis to spread the Word of God to everyone. Fortunately, I thought he was crazy otherwise I�d probably be curled up in a ball cowering in the corner sucking my thumb. (I mean, I�ve never claimed that I wasn�t a sinner but holy shit, I�ve never thought of myself as the devil�s spawn either.) So, one day I asked my mother about him. She told me that he was an old college friend of my parents, and when he was 18-19, he was in a terrible car accident. He was in a coma for a long time. My mother then told me �he was just never quite right after that�. Well Jesus fucking Christ, mom! What possessed you to give me a Godfather who had a very severe brain injury? See, I always knew she hated me. your thoughts? seed flower