The Gonzo Wolf

I know I’ve gotten quite a few new followers throughout the social media-sphere, and some of them are realizing it was a mistake.

I’ve been OFFICIALLY (certified letter; congregation’s signatures) excommunicated from the Christian faith. It’s not just a cleaver name. I am Reverend (ordained by a Seattle church in 2015 to perform marriages and funerals; because my hometown JP’s publicly denied their federal duties by banning their involvement in same-sex marriage ceremonies) Dare (my mother’s nickname for me; short for Dereick) Cloud (my last name since my marriage in 2019).

My religious preferences land somewhere between atheist & naturalist. I worship the energies of the planet, basically. Some would call that god, and that’s cool. I don’t.

I despise organized religion (It’s been flaunted in the faces of the poor since the dawn of time, spreading nothing but war and death), and believe it should be more of a private thing; kind of how political beliefs were before the invention of the imaginary social media shield.

I avoid none more than good old southern Christianity. I’ve been discarded by family members for bucking it, and the members of the responsible church still avert their eyes and ignore me when we meet in public. It’s been over twenty years now.

So, when some of you think “oh, that’s silly; you can come to my church,”; don’t. To ask me to ignore the extremely official and meticulously delivered excommunication announcement would erase your own beliefs. Seriously; if the Christian god is everything his believers claim, then I’m upholding and respecting your beliefs by simply not going.

Now, here’s where it gets tricky. NO ONE I’ve encountered in this country – and I’ve been everywhere there is to go in the continental United States – has heard of an official Protestant excommunication since the late 1800’s (basically the old west). I was excommunicated in 2005; over a century later.

If my thinking is correct, I’m the chosen one; or something. The one holding the fabric of Christianity together for the sake of mobile-home mankind. You’re welcome.

This shit didn’t turn out too well for Anakin Skywalker, so the REAL believers should protect me at all costs. Monetary donations aren’t such a bad idea either. Lemme know if you need my PayPal. We can call it a virtual collection plate if it makes you feel any better.

On the serious, I don’t hate Christians. I tried it, read the book, and they kicked me out for hooking up with a brown chick. She was Native, but was unaware of her heritage at the time. She introduced herself as middle-eastern, and I guess American God wasn’t into that a mere four years after 9/11.

Look, I know I jest about some of this, but it’s basically all I can do to keep my sanity at this point. Before you react to what you’ve just read, and if you’re an avid church-goer, I want you to think about it for a moment. Put yourself in my shoes.

I was seriously getting home from Disneyland (I live in Texas) when I checked the mail containing a condemnation to Hell signed by a few dozen influential people in my old community; some of them close family. I haven’t been the same person since. Would you be?

Then, eight years later, I had a stroke. I’m seriously new to myself, to be honest. It’s interesting. I learn more about myself everyday!

Yes, I loathe religion (I think my feelings are well validated), but that doesn’t mean I loathe YOU. No, that decision comes later when you choose to personally disrespect me over something you could never possibly comprehend. Some of you reading this will agree, and some of you reading this are already into your retort letter.

Seen it all; heard it all.

Anyway, I’ve reposted this as a courtesy to my newer followers. I won’t be mad if you unsubscribe or stop following me. Personal beliefs are important, and I’d expect you to turn away if your convictions were truly heartfelt. I feel the same, and I can respect that. The question is…

Can you?

As I’ve come to grips with my own mortality, my lifelong, ignored mental health, and a better perspective on my past, I’ve lost about 95% of everything and everyone I’ve ever known. It’s a bit of a mind-job sometimes, but it’s still better than begging to go back to church.

I’ve still got my money on aliens.

Preach truths, toke jokes, and shoplift Amazon. I know this could hurt book sales and whatnot, but not once have I ever did this for the money. I like telling stories to interested people. Everyone else gets brutal honesty and secret elevator farts.

I truly do love those who’ve stuck with me. I hope I can make you proud someday.

Or then there’s this…

100% no bullshit.

The man who was the driving force behind my official excommunication fell off a tractor and into a shredder/mower. He survived until he sat up. His brain fell out.

I just can’t be sad about that. 50 years of useless Bible knowledge spilled onto his own fields as repayment for his secret wrongdoings (he was an old, southern farmer who I’d witnessed turn away more than his fair share of colored individuals seeking assistance. He sure helped out the mirror, though; and that year’s harvest).

Don’t worry; I’m reading up on how to get a grip on my voodoo…