For years, I used to write a blasphemous post on Good Friday just to kick back against the ridiculous confessional state we’ve created for ourselves here in this little republic.
Every year, I trembled in fear, waiting for the knock on my door from a police force determined to arrest and silence me or, to put it another way, I didn’t give a rat’s arse since I knew that our police force cared not one jot what I wrote, until eventually I gave up.
Not even our fundamentalists cared enough to make a complaint. And so I simply gave up. I can’t annoy the police, since they don’t care, and I can’t even annoy the sex-obsessed religious freaks. What’s the point?
Damn this living in a liberal democracy nonsense. I want to fight back against the forces of oppression.
And then it dawned on me that oppression takes many faces. Your oppressor doesn’t need to wear jackboots, bark orders at you or hold a snarling German Shepherd on a lead as it lunges towards you.
As long as your oppressor is your neighbour, your brother or your boss, slapping you on the back, getting you tickets for the rugby, finding someone to fix that broken drain, but still speaking against human freedom, you are still being oppressed, even if it happens to be in the kindest possible way.
You might wonder why I, as a straight man, am so vocal in favour of same-sex marriage. Some cynics have even suggested that I might be some sort of covert gay myself, to which I’d say, suck this.
My reason is very simple. I hate oppression. I hate intolerance. I hate people taking it upon themselves to dictate to the rest of us how we should live our lives.
They tried it with divorce. Jesus, they even tried it with contraception, of all things, and succeeded for many years. They told us what books we could read and what books we could not. They told the doctors what women they could save and what women they must let die.
They are still all around us and therefore, until they are finally eradicated from the decent society I hope I might finally leave to my children, I will continue to blaspheme.
It’s not because I hate religion. It’s because these people use religion to impose their demented views on all of us, for no good reason.
Maybe if Ireland finally grows up and passes the marriage-equality referendum with a Yes vote, I might finally stop mocking religion, but until that happens, it’s blasphemy once a year. Or maybe twice.
Here’s a few blasphemous posts from years past. With any luck, some religious nut will complain me and we can begin to test the silly Fianna Fáil blasphemy law.