NO PORK FOR ME.
Greetings brethren. This is your resident urban warrior presiding. Now I like to spend my days constantly watching the clock in the office, sprinting home at high speeds, going for a beer in my local watering hole in the early evenings, sometimes watch the football on the big plasma screen there. I sometimes take a stroll in the park on Sunday afternoons if I feel like it. I’m just a simple working class lad, don’t ask for much. The other Asian (Indian subcontinent) guys in my neighbourhood think I’m a Muslim, haha, which I think has all the makings of an amusing primetime sitcom … they question me at times, they badger me, they invite me to the mosque and religious ceremonies. I usually agree just to shut them up, then pull out at the last minute making up some bullshit excuse.
Now you might think I’m taking the wimpy way out … but they are really an irritating bunch. However, I’m glad of their presence in an ironic way, as they are also a source of much amusement.
They think I adhere to their doctrine and see things as they do … …however, they do not see what I see, nor feel what I feel. They only understand a rigid concept of society and theology … a fixed way of doing things; a patriarchal god. I personally don’t think the supreme being of the infinite multiverse would give a crap if some insignificant humanoid has a drink of liquor, or eats a slice of ham, or gets laid by a non believer …
.. He/She/It would probably have other shit to think about …
I don’t like to whinge, but the hypocrisy can sometimes be unbearable. I was watching the football in the pub the other day, can’t remember the match, wasn’t really paying attention, despite the World Cup fever that is rampant over here (I hope England lose, hahaha, just to see the pissed off look on the England fans faces). I was with a Muslim friend of mine, well I say friend; more a humanoid who I tolerate on occasion. This chap, not yet married, always goes on about his conquests and exploits with women. yet goes on about how much of a good Muslim he is. At one point, we got hungry, and strolled to the fish and chip shop. Now for any of you reading this who might happen to be American, we called fries “chips” here in England, what you call chips, we call “crisps”. Now you denizens of Dixie may have your Whoppers, French Fries, bagels and marshmallows, but I tell thee, you cannot beat some good old English fish and chips. I had a lovely greasy pork sausage with mine. W! as about to put it into my mouth when my friend pointed at me in shock.
“Kafir! Haram!” he yelled, meaning, “Infidel! Forbidden!”
He then rebuked me for the purchase and intended consumption of aforementioned pork product. He said I would not dare put such a thing to my mouth, which was rich coming from him as his mouth was damn near south of the border with the young lass he was entertaining the night before.
Such was the hypocrisy of this young stud, who attended prayer meetings by day and was a swine at night. To add insult to injury, or vice versa, he slapped the offending piece of meat from my hand. It dropped into a running puddle of water on along the sidewalk concrete and dropped into the gutter. I stood and observed its progress, mourning the loss. A nice bit of sausage, that.
He told me that I was a terrible Muslim and would pay dearly in the afterlife if was not careful. I responded with a two finger salute.
Muhammed Khan
