Sunday Morning Blasphemy
I suffer from Post-Christian Stress Disorder (PCSD). I made that up, but I have faith that it’s real, so you have to respect it or you’re a bigot.
The quacks at the American Psychiatric Association (APA) continue to ignore my strongly worded emails demanding an emergency revision to the DSM. My ACLU lawyer just sighed and told me to stop bothering him on the weekend.
I’ve been cursed with weekend work. Three standups a day with consultants—a desperate attempt to get a $100M tech transformation project back on track. While discussing availability, quite a few mentioned that Sunday morning was reserved for church and Sunday school.
I try to have empathy, remembering the years I spent in that death cult, but I can’t. I have a visceral reaction to all things Abrahamic. Grown people gathering to wave their hands around and sing cheesy ass songs about a failed messiah and a Near Eastern storm god.