Skirting the issue- Rant

We are here. Well, not really. The university is a little further out of Madrid then the brochure might have led one to believe. Close enough. 

With our ten days of travel now over, I have some good stories for you. One in particular is quite funny. 

Earlier, I bitched and bitched and bitched about the French being, yup you guessed it, bitches. Here's a good reason. 

Alyse and I are walking into the Sacre Couer, a nice cathedral near our hostel. Pretty, but when did Catholic churches start charging to see things inside of it? They were literally charging 4-5 euros to go see the chapel in the back with the blessed Eucharist. Let me tell you, when you have seen one eucharist, you've seen them all– that's the point. I guess this is why the French are mostly protestants (read: pagans). 

Anywho, when we are walking into the pews, some random-ass old indian guy, who looked as if a shovel had been taken to his face one time more than a hundred, approached us. No joke, his eyes went every which way other than straight. So when he grabbed Alyse by the arm and started scolding her, we were kind of weirded out. 

We don't speak French or whatever shit was coming out of his mouth, but it appeared that he was offended by the length of Alyse's skirt, which was quite modest by today's standards. "Mademoiselle...blah blah blah." 

He pointed at her skirt (I'm telling you, it was a fine skirt) and then pointed towards the exit. This fucker was making a scene in church. Get this, he didn't even work for the church. He was just some rando-fat-ugly-bastard. 

After he realized we weren't giving a damn what he thought, he stormed off in his bitch-ass french way– he surrendered. No one else had a problem with it or dared to confront Americans, whose grandfathers had saved their cowardly ancestors from Hitler. They should have thanked us.

Moral of the story, if you are only living because we saved you, then you should probably take it like you always have and keep your mouth shut. 

But this only ends the French section of the story. 

In Venice at St. Mark's square, we turn to part two of the story. They charge too. 

As we walked into the church, we were stopped by church employees, who made Alyse, wearing a very modest sundress, put on a scarf over her shoulders. They almost made her wrap one around her waist because her dress didn't quite cover her whole knee. 

The thing about this, is that they were charging a euro for the napkin they put on her. They didn't care about her modesty necessarily, because she was well-dressed. They were just trying to make a buck off the free entrance. Ridiculous. Oh and at the end of the walk around the church, they make you give back the napkins. 

I didn't realize a church could be such a profitable enterprise. Forget selling consumer products, let's take over a church and live like kings.

Here it was 4 euro to climb to the top (another 2 if you wanted to take the lift), 4 euro to see the chapel, and a euro per napkin. Pure insanity. I refuse to pay to be catholic. It was really bothersome and, as you can tell, it still is bothering me. 

The Vatican was better. Saw the pope and oddly enough he didn't stop the pope mobile as he went by to tell us that he had a problem with Alyse's fashion. The swiss guard didn't care, nor did the people running St. Peter's Basilica, nor the people at the Vatican museum, or at the Sistine chapel. It was refreshing. It did cost money to see the vatican museum, but it was well worth the 12 euros or whatever the cost. 

The pope was free. The point is, you shouldn't have to pay for religion and, as long as you are not in a bikini and are wearing clothes, you should have a place to worship. 

Thanks for reading the rant. Sorry, it probably wasn't that enjoyable. Therefore I offer you this joke as reparation. My dad told it to me. 

A woman, who has been married for twenty years, has recently taken issue with her sex life– her husband insists that they always have sex with the lights off. 3-5 times a week for the last 20 years, the lights were always off. It really bothered her. 

So one night, while she was having sex with her husband, she flicked the lights on. 

"What is that?" she exclaimed. 

"It's a dildo," her husband said. 

"Am I not attractive enough anymore?" She asked.

"No, no, it's not that."

"Well, what is it?"

"I'm impotent. Always have been. I did this, so you wouldn't leave me because of the no sex thing."

"Oh," she said. She was embarrassed. 

"Alright," he said.  "Now, you explain the 3 kids."