September 1998
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by Gordon Dymowski

Having recently visited the coast of Oregon, as well as driving through Oregon & Washington up to Seattle, I've come to one conclusion: God is one Bad Ass Dude.

[Brief note: this ain't going to be some boring theological discourse. I use "God" as a synonym for a Higher Power, or Creator, so if you feel that the supreme being is Buddha, or Zeus, or even Samuel L. Jackson, my intention is not to offend you. If you're an atheist, take this with a huge grain of salt. I'm writing this under the influence of grain alcohol, so you'll not be far off. If you're one of those righteous evangelical types, I'm not one of you. I believe in the right to believe whatever you want, up to (and including) thinking that Carrot Top is funny. You ain't gonna like this, so go away]

Think about it - if it weren't for God, we probably wouldn't have all this neat-o stuff, like the planet, and the ocean, and the moon, and the universe. Hell, it takes two gametes to make one individual - do you think *that* happens randomly. Think about BLOOM COUNTY - if that ain't divinely inspired, I don't know what is.

Sure, sure, go ahead, tell me all that quantum stuff about quarks and neurons and Schroedinger's cat (What Lucy's piano playing boyfriend has to do with cats...I ain't speculating). As for me, I firmly believe that there's something bigger than us, something that's out there, and it ain't the truth.

Now, this is not to convert anyone to my way of thinking, but I tend to think of it like this: God's a pretty big concept. Instead of arguing about whether He's this way, or that way, or whether He's a She, why not just admit that God is someone who's bigger than we can imagine? Someone who defies our attempts to categorize Him/Her. Kind of like the way we hold complete and utter contempt for Jerry Lewis - it's bigger than we can conceive.

And this *ain't* no attempt to get people to go to church. The last time I went to confession (and I am disclosing a deep, dark secret: I was born & raised Catholic), the priest asked if I, er, "sinned with myself." (That's how he put it, folks). I told him that God knows the number, since I didn't count them.

What's the point of all this, you may ask? Well, the way I see it, it might be good to just sit back, relax once in awhile, and meditate on the vastness of it all.

Or, read several compilations of Berke Breathed's BLOOM COUNTY & OUTLAND strips. You'll get the same effect.

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