A Modern Interfaith Relationship

By Rev. Stella Quinn
High Priest of Zymurgy

As a Dudeist, I’ve had to grapple with the meaning of belonging to a new religious movement in the modern world. Especially since my boyfriend is a Pastafarian. That’s right. I’m in an inter-sorta-faith relationship.

Initially, our sorta-faith systems may seem incompatible. After all, Pastafarians are really big on sarcasm and propaganda and we Dudeists are way too laid back to bother trying to convince other people to take up our faith. At first I thought I was getting proselytized when my man gave me a copy of The Gospel of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. But then I realized the book was really fucking funny, so why wouldn’t I want to read it?.

As a Pastafarian, my man worships the great Flying Spaghetti Monster and pleads that he can receive the blessings of his noodly appendage. This also means he’s preoccupied with pirates and their obvious connection to global warming. But you know what? I can dig that. Pirates are cool. Pirates aren’t pacifists, but they aren’t nihilists either. They have passion for life but aren’t concerned with mainstream career expectations, which is a very Dudeist way of experiencing the world. They also like rum, which in extreme circumstances can be used to replace vodka in a White Russian. Both Pastafarians and Dudeists can agree on the mantra of “Fuck It,” although while I might follow that up with “Let’s go bowling,” my boyfriend might say “YARR WE BE COMMANDEERING YONDER SCHOONER!!” Or maybe he’ll just torrent some files. I dunno.

There’s ways we can celebrate one another’s faith; for example, oat soda goes great with spaghetti, and White Russians make a great apéritif regardless of the meal being served. Pastafarians also don’t as yet have a canonical flick, so it’s cool that The Big Lebowski occupies the place of honor in our shared DVD collection. Likewise, since Dudeists make no claim to know anything about where the universe came from or where it’s going, I have no problem with my boyfriend’s belief that the afterlife has a beer volcano and a stripper factory. Fuckin’ A, who wouldn’t want a beer volcano and a stripper factory? I’m cool with the Pastafarian holiday of Holiday, and I didn’t even have to ask my boyfriend to help me celebrate the Dudeist holiday of the Day of the Dude. We spend pretty much every Sunday sitting around taking ‘er easy on the couch anyway!

If we ever end up with a Little Lebowski on the way, we’ll have to grapple with which faith we’re going to ram down our offspring’s throat. Or maybe we’ll have to come up with a way to honor both systems, like those half goyim/half shomer shabbos kids I grew up with who got presents for Hanukkuh AND Christmas. Lucky fuckers.

Lost my train of thought there . . . oh yeah. My point is that just like people from more elderly religious traditions have to negotiate differences of faith, so will those of us who belong to newer ways of thinking. And in true Dudeist fashion, I’m cool with whatever my man believes. As long as he doesn’t make me come to some kind of modern dance thing where he’s wearing an ivy-covered unitard.

Dear Stella,

Two of my friends just broke up. I don’t think they will be able to stay friends and I kind of have to pick a side. I’m not really sure which one is right and which one is wrong. Who should I stay friends with?

[name redacted]

Dear Redacted,

That sucks about your friends. Breaking up is painful enough, but it’s extra sucky when it disrupts your social circle. Without knowing the specifics, it’s hard to say who is “right” and who is “wrong.” Breakups are usually the result of both parties making mistakes, although sometimes one person makes the mistake that breaks them up, such as cheating, lying, or giving up. Usually you can stay friends with both people, but if it becomes evident that you’ll have to choose, here’s how I do it:

Whichever person talks more on the Internet about their ex is usually the person who messed it up, and is always the person who is more crazy, petty, and manipulative

There are *limited* exceptions to this rule, such as people who were abused and share their stories online as part of a healing or outreach process. But with normal breakups, that’s it. If I have to choose between two people, I’ll go with the person who has enough dignity not to drag other people into it by putting it online. I’ll choose the person who isn’t petty. The person who doesn’t make a bad situation much worse by saying nasty things (whether or not they are true). People who take cheap stabs at people they don’t like anymore are petty and untrustworthy. That person just might turn around and do it to you one day if you piss them off one day.

Good luck with your friends. Hopefully it will all blow over after a while and the worst of it will be a few awkward hellos at house parties. If not, STAY AWAY FROM THE CRAZY.

So I want to throw it out there: am I cheating on my boyfriend if I rub a sudsy facsimile of Harrison Ford as Han Solo all over myself? Is the carbonite a mitigating factor, as it would imply that Harrison Ford/Han Solo is unconscious and therefore wouldn’t be aware of said rubbing? If so, am I inappropriately taking advantage of someone who is too impaired to consent to being rubbed? Am I terminally nerdy for taking my train of thought this far?

Gentlemen, tonight is the night to hit the bars, hit the clubs, and go on those blind dates. Because I guarantee you that all the crazy girls will be at the movies. Any females left out on the streets will be semi to completely normal. So get out there and use this as your pickup line:

“So you didn’t go to the movies to see Twilight, huh? You must be one of those smart ladies I keep hearing so much about.”

Bam. You’re in. She’ll at least give you a charitable laugh, if not let you talk to her for a few minutes. If she responds warmly to your joke, say something about how awful the Stupak Amendment is and I guarantee you’ll get digits.

As for me, I think it would be a great idea to walk around all weekend wearing my new shirt and see how many cat fights I can pick with Twihards without saying a single word:

* Why no, I didn’t like the Twilight series. How could you tell?

I heartily endorse this kind of thing. It kind of shows you how absurd we can be, and how overblown things can get, when we adhere to bizarre cultural standards that do more to divide than to unify.