How to Choose the Perfect Religion

It’s all about the parking lots

Last summer I took up skateboarding again. I live in a hilly area where the streets have nicknames like “heart-attack slope” and “bring ropes you fool.” For this reason, and because I’m nearing 60, I thought it would be a bad idea to skateboard on the street.

When I was a kid, we didn’t have youtube so I’d never of “death pebbles,” but that part of the story comes later.

In my quest to find smooth flatlands, I turned to religion: church parking lots.

This neighborhood is the geographic equivalent of San Francisco and boasts 38 churches. Yes, you heard that right. We are in the bible belt, pretty close to the buckle in fact.

Sadly, we do not have a synagogue, monastery, or mosque but this is Arkansas so it’s possible there’s a snake-based church service. For reasons I don’t comprehend, I could find no trace of Mormons but it’s only a matter of time.

Judge Not Lest Ye Be Judged

I went to all the churches in search of a roomy, smooth, and slightly sloped parking lot. I discovered that the condition of the parking lot is the key to understanding the religion itself.

Some of you may be thinking this is a shallow and incomplete system and shaking your heads at any lady who decides to take up skateboarding when osteoporosis is right around the corner.

To you, I say — carpe diem, mother frackers!

As Jesus once said, probably after a smokin’ hot babe rejected him at a dance party:

“Judge not, lest ye be judged.”

Baptists

Baptists are everywhere in these parts, lurking around corners like G-men but without the aviator sunglasses. They are wildly popular, I believe, because of the proximity of lakes and streams in The South. In olden times, entertainment wasn’t easy to find, so taking the whole congregation down to the lake and dipping people in the water was right up there with a vaudeville act.

Baptists are big on entertainment. Their parking lots are more likely to have a basketball hoop, for example.

Judgment: if you like fun, go Baptist.

Catholics

These stained-glass aficionados are fond of lacing their grounds with crosses, which is a bummer if you are skateboarding. Their parking lot is extremely flat and rather boring. The ‘Lics host a small farmer’s market in the parking lot, however, which is a huge service to the community.

As for the condition of the lot, it’s not the greatest, especially considering the reputation these folks have for being playboy-rich.

Judgment: if you like to help others in a practical way and feel guilty but you don’t know why — go Catholic.

Non-denominational

These people can’t make up their minds about who and what they are, but their parking lots are modern and smooth — and most of all, spacious! Wow, you could host a County Fair here.

Judgment: if you crave open spaces and fear commitment, go non-denom.

Episcopalians

My husband thinks their architecture resembles an apartment complex, but I find it lovely and understated. Their tidy monument to God rests atop a hill like an eagle’s eyrie and resembles a mini-monastery.

Their parking lot reminds me of a miniature horse: cute, smooth, curvy, and probably too expensive. There is also an adorable courtyard where you can perfect your olly on the grass.

Judgment: if you like beauty and mystery and miniature horses, sign up with the Episcopalians.

Unitarians

This is my church but I won’t lie, it was the worst parking lot in the Village. This tarmac is flatter than a pancake and twice as porous. Second, the pebbles were everywhere. Third, it appears smooth but when you get close you find ruts and obstacles. And finally, there are way too many speed bumps!

The one advantage of this parking lot is I got the feeling no one would ask:

“What the hell are you doing riding on our sidewalks, punk?”

Judgment: if you want to be accepted no matter who you are, go Unitarian.

Methodists

These churchgoers are an interesting lot — no pun intended. There are almost as many of them as Baptists. I can’t figure out if they have their sh*t together or not. I found a decent stretch of pavement but I sensed there were pebbles lurking in the shadows, plus their names are presumptuous: United, First, and so forth.

Judgment: I can’t recommend this religion because it is truly baffling.

Presbyterians

Here you will find swank parking lots, with excellent markings and no sign of decay, and handsome churches. As a devout Frisbeeterian (we believe the soul is shaped like a giant Frisbee, and death is when it goes up on the roof and you can’t get it down), I could see some advantages to skating here, but I had the distinct feeling their money made them snooty, and also the vague sensation of being watched.

Judgment: if you like money and getting dressed up fancy, choose Presbyterian.

Lutherans

I don’t know what in God’s name Lutherans believe, but their parking lots are:

— Bitchin’ — Sick — Gnarly — Rad

One of ’em had the most exquisite blend of sidewalks, wide-open stretches of baby-butt-smooth asphalt, and shade provided by flowering pear trees. I couldn’t find one pebble, rock, or twig. Are they sweeping it daily? Is the minister a skater? Everything was tickety-boo and I felt if someone saw me, he would be a Wilfred Brimley type who would immediately recruit me and hand me a broom.

I sensed it was no accident the lot was so tidy, however. Someone, most likely everyone, was toiling away.

Judgment: if you believe cleanliness is next to godliness, and you enjoy hard work with a common purpose but don’t want to admit to being a Socialist, go Lutheran.

Death Pebbles Describe the Existential Dilemma We All Face on this Earth

After about a month of exploring church asphalt and finally grokking religions, I hit a death pebble in the Unitarian parking lot. I went down sideways, landed on my hip, and didn’t break anything.

It was almost enough to make me switch to Lutheran, but I bought a helmet and some pads instead.

I ventured back out to the Baptist parking lot, where I met the Beelzebub of death pebbles. I hit the asphalt like a bug on a black and tarry windshield, nose-first. My face went numb but I didn’t cry.

No chipped tooth, but I looked like a beat-up prizefighter. I drank milkshakes for breakfast for three days (the only upside).

You see, the death pebble is virtually invisible. Even the best skateboarders cannot sense or see it and I am far from the best skateboarder, even in my age class (55–60). In this regard, death pebbles are like Satan’s dandruff.

Simultaneously, they perfectly express why life is both beautiful and treacherous: you don’t know what’s coming next and no amount of skill can save you.

So if you are going to skate, consider you will need God on your side to protect you from the curse of death pebbles. Know, too, that you might get recruited and choose your church parking lot wisely.

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Jean Campbell recently started her first Substack newsletter to laser focus on getting her book, City of Lies: A Street Hustler’s Omaha Story, published. But wait, there’s more! For free humor on Substack, check out Flying Monkey Mind.