I am America (and so can You!)
Page 7
Glib
Rastafarianism
Any religion that sees 20th century Ethiopian emperor Haile Selassie17 as a member of the Holy Trinity is worth our suspicion. Then again, any religion whose messiah’s name isn’t recognized by Microsoft Word can’t be that much of a threat. My main beef with these folks is that they try to make smoking grass acceptable by labeling it a “sacrament.” In my book, that gets you Raptured right into federal prison camp.
No potato salad, no cry
Still, Reggae is pretty good. Makes great background music at the corporate barbecue.
All Other Crazy Cults
The problem with cults is that they don’t have the brass to be honest from the get-go. They hide behind phrases like “self-improvement workshop” or “human potential coach” or “improv class,” then they slowly sneak in the crazy stuff so that you don’t notice. If they had any guts, in the very first cult meeting they’d say, “You all need to wear yellow bedsheets and have sex with me twice a day until we get beamed up to a comet in twelve years. Also, give me all your money.”18 Then we wouldn’t have a problem—the wacky people can still join, and the people who are just suggestible can go, “Oh, this is a cult” and get out of there. I’m not trying to take away anyone’s right to get poisoned in order to send their spirit to Pluto, I’m just saying they should know what they’re getting ahead of time.
Buy I Am America, the audio-book.
Here’s an easy way to figure out if you’re in a cult: If you’re wondering whether you’re in a cult, the answer is yes.
Atheists
These No-goodnik no-Godniks are growing in numbers and power in America. It makes me wonder how a God could exist Who’d allow people to piss me off so much.
Luckily, a recent survey published in the American Sociological Review revealed that atheists are the least trusted group in America—less trusted, even, than homosexuals. It makes sense—at least we trust the homosexuals with our hair.
“Dust in the Wind” is not a hymn.
But here’s the biggest head-scratcher of all: Not only are atheists destroying our country, they’re completely deluding themselves. There’s simply no way to prove that there is no God. If I didn’t hate them so much, I’d feel bad for these folks. Imagine going through life completely duped into thinking that there’s no invisible, omniscient higher power guiding every action on Earth. It’s just so arbitrary! Can’t they see?
What’s worse is that atheists blindly follow whatever their scientists tell them to, no matter how unbelievably fantastical it sounds to rational ears. Yeah, earthquakes are caused by the shifting of giant unseen plates buried deep beneath the ground. There’s no way it could be God jiggling the globe because people in California commit sodomy. No, that would be too simple!
Atheists enrage me precisely because they impute everything that happens to the semi-random workings of the natural world. They refuse to take responsibility for their actions! If their dog dies, it’s because the decay of its cells caused by the aging process was “meant to be.” They’ll never stand up and say, “I deserved this as punishment for mixing my meats and cheeses.” Makes me angry just thinking about it.
Agnostics
Atheists without balls.
ATHEISTS AND THE BIG SECULAR AGENDA
People of faith like you and me are under attack. Especially people like me.
Atheists are the driving force behind what I call Big Secularism.
Card-carrying members of BS have snaked their way into every branch of our federal government, except for the judicial and executive. Did you know that in the House of Representatives and the Senate, there are as many as one self-described atheist currently serving? Democratic Representative Pete Stark of California’s 13th district, to name just one. Just think of it—how are any pro-faith initiatives going to make it into law when Congress is held hostage by the anti-God caucus of Stark, his self and him?
BS is a gathering storm—a growing movement of lefty Lord-loathers intent on driving religion out of the public square, no matter how much time I spend hanging tinsel.
THE WAR ON CHRISTMAS
How about Thanksgiving dinner out of a sock?
I’m not afraid to say it: I love Christmas.15 Call me crazy, but I like getting together with the family, having a nice meal and opening presents. I even like eating candy out of a sock. I wish there were more days designated to do that. Sorry if that offends some of you, but I promised I was going to tell it like it is. And I’m what you call a Christmas Guy.
That’s why it upset me so much when the town hall in the coastal Connecticut hamlet where I vacation was forced to take down its nativity scene. And this is despite the fact that it also displayed a sign telling people they could see a menorah two towns over. But balance isn’t what the wall-of-separation-between-church-and-state-huggers are after. They just want to marginalize people of faith of all kinds and push us into the corners of American Life. So, down the display came. It’s easy to imagine this sort of thing is happening everywhere. Where will it end?
A Visit from St. Secular
’Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
Mamma in her kerchief, and I in the nude,
Were shocked that our holiday had been misconstrued,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
(Mind you, I’m still nude.)
Out to the lawn in my glory, I flew.
To see my manger disassembled by the ACLU.
–Written by Clement C. Moore, 1822
–Updated by Stephen Colbert, 2007
Still nude
Imagine a time in the not-too-distant future—December 24th, but instead of festive lights and glowing Santas, the streets are illuminated by police helicopters. Meanwhile, in the streets, roving gangs of children terrorize the city. They have zero respect for authority because whether a child is naughty or nice, everyone gets the same thing for Christmas: Jack Squat. So they’ve gone wild. It’s like Devil’s Night in Detroit, only there’s still stuff worth burning. As the fires rage, bands of depressed alcoholic derelicts, once jolly carolers, shuffle aimlessly, no longer sharing their cheerful seasonal hymns, but instead searching for a death that will never come. God rest ye, merry Gentlemen. And of course, now that there’s no Christmas, insects have grown to enormous size. So everyone has to dodge the ants and beetles that are crushing buses in their powerful mandibles.
Does my vision of a world without Christmas sound far-fetched? This is exactly the future the Secul-azis want for your children and grandchildren.
The correct answer: no
Big Secularism’s plan is to keep eroding our holiday. Little by little, they’re taking away a manger here, a “Come All Ye Faithful” there, until pretty soon there’s nothing left. That’s why we’ve got to dig in our heels and celebrate the holiday bigger than ever. If you usually get one tree, this year get two. If you usually do two, have five. The BSists need to understand that there is no number of trees we are unwilling to cut down to prove our point.
Jesus hasn’t forgiven you for that Cross, trees.
EVOLUTION IS REAL!
You heard me! Y’see, there’s nothing I like more than using the Big Secularism against itself.
You say Man evolved? Well, Man was made in God’s image, so God must have evolved too. I adapted your precious “Ascent of Man” chart to a higher purpose:
How does it feel now, Secularists? You can’t possibly argue with this—because it’s your theory. Based on this chart, Jesus clearly adapted over time to take on attributes that would help Him send you to Hell. In your monkey-evolved faces!
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STEPHEN SPEAKS FOR ME
A CHANCE FOR AVERAGE AMERICANS TO AGREE WITH WHAT I THINK
I think it’s wonderful that Stephen has written such a considerate chapter on Me. Hopefully t
hese pages will decrease the number of skeptics out there, though I understand why some people are atheists and agnostics. It’s not going to spare them the Eternal torment of Hell, but I understand. Hey, my fault for giving you all Free Will.
God Maker of All that Is Seen and Unseen
I could convince everybody that I exist by stepping up the Divine Interventions, but there are only so many hours in the day, you know?
This gets to the main question that everyone usually asks Me: If I’m so all-powerful, why don’t I answer everyone’s prayers? The answer: I used to.
Back in the day, fewer people prayed for me to do things for them. There was a lot more thanksgiving, and it’s less time-consuming to answer prayers that are praising you for things. Those were the good old days. Now it’s gimme, gimme, gimme.
It especially shows up in sports. Used to be, you never had both sides pray for victory. One team max, and 9 times out of 10 that team was Notre Dame. Now, you’re guaranteed to have counteracting prayers. What am I supposed to do? For Me, it’s literally a no-win situation. I usually have no choice but to answer the prayer of whichever team is better.
Of course, I can’t get caught playing favorites. So if I do help a team, it’s not going to be with something cool and dramatic like a line drive that suddenly lifts up and carries over the fence. Instead, I usually just go back in time and make the winning team have practiced more.
I mean, if there’s one team that is clearly more righteous, yes, I’ll help that team, although sometimes I’ll help the team of sinners instead because I love a good underdog. Plus that nudge might set them on the righteous path, or there could be a sick kid, or there’s some other factor…you know what? It’s complicated. You’d really have to be Everywhere.
Oh, and let me say this—if I have money on a game, I never help either team. No exceptions.
So, in regular life, why do I answer some prayers and not other prayers? Pretty much the same reasoning as sports. Do I return the runaway to her family, or do I get that guy his dream job? (Yes, I do pair up all prayers.)
It’s not totally random. I have a system, although I can’t really explain it in a way that will make sense to someone without Ultimate Knowledge. Put it this way: If I’ve helped you find your car keys 20 times, don’t bother calling Me when you get a tumor.
You guys in the USA don’t know how good you have it. Your nation is crazy blessed already. When the Dow breaks 14,000—that’s a mudslide in Guatemala. So, you know, try to keep it in perspective.
And by the way, I always have money on the Super Bowl and the Kentucky Derby, so don’t waste your breath.
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Religious conversion is a rigorous, demanding process designed to test your resolve and dedication to the new faith you’ve chosen. Or you could just use my Religion Randomizer! Because let’s face it, if it ain’t Christianity, it’s just Path-to-Hell Lotto!
Go to www.colbertnation.com and click on the Religionizer button to pick your spiritual poison.
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Part Two
MY AMERICAN ADOLESCENCE
I was thirteen when we moved from the dirt road where I grew up to the big city of Charleston, where the rich kids lived—kids whose families had been there since it had been Charles Towne or, even earlier, Chuck Mound.
My new school gave me an opportunity I never had before—getting beaten up every day. On those rare days when I was not beaten, the next morning I’d find a note in my locker: “Sorry we forgot to beat you yesterday. We’ll beat you twice as hard today.” No one can touch Southerners for manners.
The daily beatings lost some of their intensity during the football season, when my jock tormentors were able to split their latent Homosexual Rage between my torso and their locker-room hijinks. This lull allowed my swelling to go down, and it turned out I had facial features. The girls noticed. Soon I was a regular on the debutante circuit where I tried scoring a few “touchdowns” of my own. The beatings began again. Some of those debs were pretty tough.
When I left for college, I was determined never to be a victim again. I would take my lead from the Hollywood tough guys I had always looked up to: Charles Bronson, Clint Eastwood, Ned Beatty. So on Day One of my freshman year at Dartmouth, I walked into class and punched the first person I saw—my Ethics professor, Dr. Buneta. Judging by the grade he gave me, holding a grudge passes for “ethical” in the Ivy League. I don’t know what the big deal was. That beard had to absorb some of the impact.
I include this coming-of-age tale because it encompasses the five big Ss of Adolescence:
School, Sports, Sex, Sodomy, and the Silver Screen.
Trust me, they’re all in there.
fig 7. STEPHEN COLBERT
CHAPTER 5
SPORTS
“No time for losers, ’cause we are the Champions…of the World”
–Freddy Mercury, Glam Rock God and sports queen
NOW, GENERALLY SPEAKING, I’M NOT A BIG FAN OF SPORTS. IT’S A WASTE OF BOTH TESTOSTERONE AND BLIND, FERVENT ALLEGIANCE, BOTH OF WHICH WOULD BE BETTER DIRECTED TOWARDS OUR MILITARY. BUT THERE IS NO QUESTION THAT SPORTS IS A HUGE PART OF OUR CULTURE THESE DAYS. THERE ARE dozens of TV channels devoted exclusively to sports—channels you can’t remove from your cable package and stop paying for, even if you make it clear that’s what you want.
Respond to my letters, Comcast!
So, if I’m no cheerleader of sports, why write a chapter about it? Sports do have some positive impact on society. They solve problems, such as how to get inner-city kids to spend $175 on shoes. They serve as a backdrop for some of our most memorable commercials. And they remain the one and only relevant application of math. Not only that, but we have sports to thank for most of the last century’s advances in manliness. The system starts in school, where gym class separates the men from the boys. Then those men are taught to be winners, or at least, losers that hate themselves.
Nothing puts hair on your chest like shame.
Shaq, I must get that recipe for Key Lime Pie!
ALSO: another great aspect of sports is the chance to share experience with the common man. To see the roar of the crowd from your soundproof skybox, tossing down the vintage port and veal medallions, then rubbing elbows at the post-game locker room party with all your favorite athletes—it’s a classic American experience.
Speaking of stadiums, I’ve followed the lead of the team owners and sold the naming rights of this chapter to the highest bidder. So from here on out, this chapter will be known as the…
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CHEVRON: “The Gas with Techron” SPORTS CHAPTER
So whether I like it or not, sports are here to stay. And if they’re going to exist, I should give them a chapter. Like I always say: if you’re not going to listen to me and not do something anyway, at least listen to me and do it right.
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WAKE UP CALL: Sorry there, handball, but you’re just tennis for poor people.
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HISTORY LESSON
Modern “sports” as we know them originated in ancient Rome,1 when civic officials realized that it would be much easier to get contestants for their gladiator contests if the loser was not killed. Once everyone realized that a live loser could be humiliated for much longer than a dead one, the idea caught on.
Back then, a sport was only what could be achieved with the human body—how fast can you run, how far can you throw, how big a thing can you lift, or push, or kill. But the ideal of sports as an exhibition of human accomplishment ended in 1893 when they started using football helmets. In my book, drawing the impact away from your skull defeats the entire purpose of hitting something with your head.