Every Day is an Atheist Holiday!

“John Shaft” as an appositive to “his woman,” it’s hard to ever disconnect it again. It certainly makes sense that a complicated African-American man could have a woman named John. Maybe transgendered, or a butch nickname, or named by the Man as some sort of weird racial commentary. What do I know? To me it would be a fine place for them to sing “Mrs. Shaft,” or if that’s not what the people want, maybe “Ms. Shaft,” although if you’re fighting the Man, you might not want to adopt your husband’s name at all. That’s a different generation’s battle and that brings us to my buddy Richie Rich’s suggestion that the line be “He’s a complicated man—no one understands him but his mother, Mrs. Shaft.” The meter fits and it makes sense on every front. If he really is that complicated, it seems like even his woman, John Shaft, might have trouble understanding him, but his mom, Mrs. Shaft, would certainly understand her sex machine son.

I’ve carried on publicly about Shaft almost as much as I’ve carried on about “Frosty the Snowman.” When the remake or reimagining or re-cashing-in of Shaft came out with the groovy leather coat, I was very excited that Isaac Hayes was redoing the song. I figured that Isaac was going to address my little quibbles and finally perfect the song. I attended the opening night and listened carefully, and there it was: “He’s a complicated man, BUT no one understands him but his woman, John Shaft.” What the f —?

Watch your mouth?

I’m just talking about word usage!

I don’t remember anything else from the movie. Right before Isaac died, someone called my radio show and said that Isaac had done a version on some situation comedy where he sang it my way. They played it over the phone, but I can’t find it. I don’t know how high on Isaac’s bucket list pleasing me with his lyrics was, so maybe it was a prank.

Now for “Joy to the World” with a very complicated savior who’s an anti-sex machine to all the Catholic chicks: this is a Christmas song that every American Christian I’ve ever heard about is fine with. They can dig it. Right on! They’re protective of this song. When Charlie Sheen sang a parody of it on Two and a Half Men, “Joy to the world, I’m getting laid,” there was a big hoopla from a couple people calling themselves “leagues” and “associations” but who were really writing with crayons, bitter and alone in their garages. They complained that this was a song about the birth of Jesus, and it was being parodied as a “Joy to Fornication.” Well, at least there is some joy in fornication; there sure ain’t none in “Joy to the World.”

The lyrics are not about the birth of Jesus. This is not “Away in the Manger” or (as children always sing it) “We Three Kings of Orientare.” This is not about the birth of Jesus. This is about “Jesus 2, the Return—Electric Boogaloo.” It was written by Isaac Watts (See? The same first name as the composer of “Theme from Shaft,” and you thought it was a random digression—fuck you), and is based on the 98th Psalm, and is all about Jesus’ triumphant return to Earth at the end of times. The big Christian “Told ya so!” So, where is the joy? There really isn’t any joy now, here on Earth, not in this world, is there? Not in this song.

No more let sins and sorrows grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground

If you think I love discussing the lyrics of “Theme from Shaft,” that’s nothing compared with how excited I am to segue into the saying “The exception proves the rule.” Oh man, feel how hard I am! I know you’re reading a book, so we’re time traveling, but if you ever bump into me after a show or on the street or something, you just ask me to talk about “The exception proves the rule,” and then reach down, grab my crotch, and feel how hard I am. I get as hard about “The exception proves the rule” as I get limp with the misuse of “begs the question” or Phil Collins.

I hope no one reading this book thinks that “The exception proves the rule” means that if you have an exception, it means the rule is true. That’s just bugnutty. I had it explained to me as “The exception tests the rule.” Also not true. The exception does not test the rule—it disproves the rule. In its proper use, “The exception proves the rule” is a legal concept, and it’s important. If you were to say to me, “No, you can’t fuck me in the ass on Saturdays,” that implies there’s a rule that says I can fuck you in the ass on some other day or days. The example usually given is parking signs. If a parking sign says you can’t fuck it in the ass on alternate sides of the street from three to four p.m. on weekdays, it means you can fuck it in the ass all other times. You wouldn’t need an exception if there weren’t a rule. If you sign a lease that says you’re not allowed to have any loud parties on weeknights, that means you can have loud parties on weekends. It doesn’t matter—you’ll be out in the parking space with that slutty parking sign most nights anyway.

Every good thing in “Joy to the World” is an exception that proves the rule. The joy itself is after the lord is come. Before the lord is come, no joy. Before the lord is come, before the end times, it’s all thorns and sorrow. Even when the lord comes, he makes the nations prove his righteousness and what’s that going to entail? If the rest of the Bible is any indication, and Jesus never negated anything in the Old Testament, it probably means genocide.

“Joy to the World” is one big exception to the rule of pain and suffering on Earth before our lord and savior comes back. The thing about religious holidays is that they aren’t about how good and happy life is. Far from it. Religious holidays are about how bad life was, or how good the way distant future or even the afterlife is going to be. The “Joy to the World” is going to come at the end times. Jesus was born in a manger, and his heavenly father forced his horrible tortured death so that anyone who believed in him would experience joy either after they died or right when everyone else was going to die and suffer. It’s not joy in the world, it’s joy to the world, and that joy gets here in the future. Way in the future… like never is way in the future.

They say this cat, Jesus, is a bad mother…

Shut your mouth.

But I’m just talking about Jesus. In his booklet, there’s little joy in this life. The Prince of Peace is not a barrel of laughs. I’ve read the New Testament; there isn’t much stop and smell the roses. There isn’t much playing with those groovy little Cars toys on the iPad with your son. There isn’t much joy in this life at all. There’s lots of “forsake your family and come with me.” There’s a lot about getting your reward in the afterlife.

You don’t have to go to the Bible for this POV; just stay with the Christmas carols that flood the ears of Christians, Jews, Muslims, Scientologists, and atheists alike for about a quarter of the year—where is the fucking joy in this life? “O Little Town of Bethlehem” is all “in this world of sin” up in your face. “Silent Night” is full of quaking shepherds reminded that heaven is far away and it’s just the dawn of redeeming grace. “Away in a Manger” gives us “Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care and take us to heaven and live with Thee there.” You’ve got to go way back to Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground’s “Sweet Jane” to get more dismal than that, but in Lou’s case it’s some evil mothers (Shut your mouth!) who are saying “Life is just to die.” Even the rock-and-roll animal on heroin is tame compared with that buzzkill lord Jesus Christ. “O Holy Night” sings of the thrill of hope, but no joy right now. “O, Come All Ye Faithful” just commands that we fall on our knees and adore him, not that he’s going to do jackshit for us. I’m not cherry-picking, or in this case, pit-picking; they’re all like this. “The First Noel” talks about how hard the wise men worked to find him and then fell to their knees. “The Dreidel Song” is about playing with a top—it’s seasonal—but it’s not a religious song. Gaiety is not the backbone of Jewish holidays.

Christmas carols are full of North Korea shit. Our highest incarnation of the revolutionary comradely love must be praised, but where is the joy? It’s just around the corner and we’re starving.

In Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll invents the idea of the un-birthday. If we celebrated those we’d have 365 more (in a leap year) un-birthdays than birthdays. Atheists have always had the corner on un-holidays. Christmas, Easter, Good Friday, Ramadan, Rosh Hashanah, the day Tom Cruise had sex with a woman are all holidays in some religion, but they’re never a celebration of life. The joy is the exception that proves the rule. It’s the celebration of a joy that we don’t have.

The word “holiday” comes from “holy day” and holy means “exalted and worthy of complete devotion.” By that definition, all days are holy. Life is holy. Atheists have joy every day of the year, every holy day. We have the wonder and glory of life. We have joy in the world before the lord is come. We’re not going for the promise of life after death; we’re celebrating life before death. The smiles of children. The screaming, the bitching, the horrific whining of one’s own children. The glory of giving or receiving a blow job. Sunsets, rock and roll, bebop, Jell-O,