The Gospel of the Flying Spaghetti Monster (11 page)

Q: Does He hear my prayers?

A: Yes, but that is not to say they will necessarily be answered. To increase your odds, it’s recommended that you wear Pirate regalia or at least an eye patch.

Q: Are the other religions wrong?

A: No, they’re just misguided. We accept converts from other religions with open arms.

Q: What about atheists and the followers of other religions—heathens—will these people go to Hell?

A: No, but they may not be allowed into the best areas of FSM Heaven. The safest thing to do is to convert now. Think of it this way: If you convert to Pastafarianism, and the FSM turns out
not to exist, nothing is lost. On the other hand, if you don’t convert, and the FSM does exist, then you have just been royally screwed.

Q: If there’s a Beer Volcano and a Stripper Factory in Heaven, what’s FSM Hell like?

A: We’re not entirely certain, but we imagine it’s similar to FSM Heaven, only the beer is stale and the strippers have venereal diseases. Not unlike Las Vegas.

Q: Are there male strippers in FSM Heaven for women?

A: Probably, but they are invisible to the non-homo guys.

Q: Your “religion” offends my (probably Christian) beliefs.

A: That’s not a question.

Q: Your “religion” offends my beliefs. What should I do about feeling mocked?

A: Our alternative beliefs are in no way mocking your beliefs more than yours mock ours. FSM believers are peaceful, open-minded, well educated, and reject dogma outright. We’ve never started a war and have never killed others for their opposing beliefs. Compare our record to yours.

Q: Where does the FSM exist?

A: We’re not sure exactly, because He’s invisible most of the time and rarely makes His presence known. Prayers don’t seem to reach Him until well after they’re prayed. This leads us to believe there is some sort of time dilation effect. Plus, so many prayers are offered to Him that even He wouldn’t have the time to hear them all without a time dilation effect. For this reason, we suspect He spends a great deal of time orbiting a black hole.

Q: Does the FSM have a sense of humor?

A: We can see the FSM’s sense of humor by looking at the way He deals with other religions. Consider how often evangelical Christians, those who ostensibly promote peace, are aligned with prowar groups. Clearly, this is the work of the FSM, bringing together opposites. If there was no divine influence, the conflict of interest would be obvious to both groups; that they can’t see it smacks of Noodly interference.

I
N THESE TRYING TIMES
, where the world keeps shrinking and the trappings of modern society—cell phones, computers, PDAs, video games, taxes, war, pornography, and microwavable dinners—are crowding in around us, oftentimes a person feels lost. Where do we fit in this modern world? What’s our purpose on earth?

Many are mired in eternal confusion, swept against the shoals of too many choices. Maybe you feel this way right now.

If so, don’t lose your faith. Instead, close your eyes and think back to a simpler time when the choices were fewer, when life passed as long days under the benevolent sun, and a man knew where he stood. Even if it was on a peg leg.

If life has got you down, simply ask yourself:
What would a Pirate do?

Asking this question will no doubt lead you along a path that starts at a local inn, where the first answer awaits you …

1. A P
IRATE WOULD DRINK SOME GROG
.

If grog isn’t the bread of life, it’s certainly what you need to keep that bread from catching in your gullet. Grog opens the mind and frees the soul. It also frees the inhibitions, so be mindful in your search that you don’t obtain grog goggles. Too much grog can make for questionable bunkmates, and if you’re wearing an eye patch you’re already a couple of cards behind in the game.

Once the mind has been appropriately lubricated, you may find that it wanders. This is good, for a wandering mind is a searching mind. And yet, if the mind strays too far, you may find yourself asking the wrong questions or even turning forgetful. Which leads you to …

2. A P
IRATE WOULD OBTAIN A PARROT
.

Parrots are renowned across the seas for repeating (or “parroting”) the words of humans. When a Pirate can’t recall what he’s just said, he can
always just wait a second or two for the parrot to repeat his words (for example, “Aaaak! Me hook is caught in me bonnie’s blouse”). A good parrot is essential to a happy and prosperous life of plunder, but parrots are about as scarce as Pirates these days. In a pinch you can substitute a computer, PDA, or even a diary to do your parroting for ye.

But computers, PDAs, diaries, and parrots are no substitute for true bonhomie. And drinking alone, even with a parrot perched on your shoulder, is not the Pirate way. This brings us to step three:

3. F
IND YE A BAND OF MARAUDERS
.

All the greats had a merry band of marauders to assist them—toothless, unshaven, and smelly. Seek for yourself a group of similar ilk. They will lift you up when you are down. And when you are whipped up into a bloodlust, you will find that they ground you. Blackbeard speaks of a time when he was at his most vulnerable—he looked back on the beach to see only one set of foot and peg leg prints. It was then that his first mate, “Ol’ Longshanks,” had carried
him
along the shore. Words to live by.

Once you have found your grog, your parrot, and your band of marauders, you are ready to act like a true Pirate. And what does a Pirate want most? He wants a Pirate ship …

4. I
F YOU CAN’T STEAL ONE,
build yar ship.

A Pirate just isn’t a Pirate if he doesn’t own a seaworthy vessel. You may have an eye patch, you may even have a parrot and a peg leg, but the true goal of any Pirate worth his weight in doubloons is to gain a means of travelin’ the Seven Seas. A ship gives you true meaning. It provides transport and opens the world to ye. Without one, you’re just a guy in a funny outfit.

So now ye have the trappings of a real Pirate. What are ye going to do with ’em?

5. F
IND THEE A WENCH!

Or if you’re a wench, find thee a Pirate!
¹
Wenches and Pirates go together like spaghetti and spaghetti sauce.
²
Now hit the seas and take what’s comin’ to ye!!!

The journey is a long one, and the voyage can sometimes be monotonous—long hours spent with the same merry band, consuming the same grog and gruel for months on end, bunking with the same wench. There’s only one way to avoid Pirate malaise.

6. W
HEN IN DOUBT, PLUNDER!!

The only way to avoid inaction is to take action. Examine yer charts and locate a sleepy fishing village.

Then plunder it!

Find a town inhabited by wealthy noblemen.

And plunder them!

These days it’s too easy to sit back and find excuses. If you want to see what’s out there, go see it. Then plunder, plunder, plunder.

  With these basic Pirate principles, you should be able to live out your days in happiness and prosperity. Follow them at all times, remembering their importance most when you’re lost and in the doldrums. And if by chance you find that you
still
can’t put wind into your sails, remember this last point …

7. A
RRRGH!!!

To accept the Pirate life is to accept the eternal Arrrgh!!! Without it, you’re just another landlubber.

T
HEN THE
FSM
SAID
, “Let there be light,” and there was light. And the FSM adjusted his willowy eyestalks and saw that the light was good; and the FSM divided the light from the darkness. He called the light Day, and the darkness He called Night or “Prime Time.” So the evening and the morning were the first day.

The FSM was tired of flying and He couldn’t tread water for very long, so he said, “Let there be firmament in the midst of the waters, and let the firmament form coves to one day provide safe harbor for Pirates—no, wait, firmament is a stupid word; let it be called
land
, since ‘firmament-ho!’ sounds even stupider than just plain firmament—and let this land divide the waters from the waters. And let there be a volcano to spew forth beer, which seems like a benevolent idea.” And the volcano spewed forth beer and He tasted it and declared it to be quite good. So the evening and the morning were the second day.

When the FSM awoke, his thoughts were muddled and He didn’t know where He was. Slightly hungover, and somewhere out in the Indian Ocean, the FSM found himself a little confused about what He’d created the day before; and so, self-conscious about the previous night’s misbehavior, He started barking Godlike orders in an attempt to reestablish His powerfulness, and then the FSM decided to organize. He said, “Let the water under the heavens be gathered together in one place, and let the dry land appear” (having forgotten about Day Two’s firmament command), and He called the dry land Earth (having only
yesterday come up with the term
Land)
, and the gathering together of the waters He called Seas. And the FSM dried His Noodly Appendages under the hot Light, and He saw that it was good but that there was a little problem. For now He had an earth full of Land
and
Firmament, which wouldn’t do. So he lifted Day Two’s firmament up to the heavens and renamed it Heaven. The land from Day Three He left where it was. Heaven seemed like the sweeter pad, and the FSM decided He’d live there and commute to the earth. Then the FSM said, “Let the earth bring forth grass, semolina, rice, and whatever else can be turned into food that resembles my Noodly Appendages,” and He saw that this was an original idea, which was certainly good. That night He drank a little less from the Beer Volcano, which was relocated to Heaven along with the rest of the firmament. So the evening and the morning were the third day.

At this point, the FSM was a little sore from overexertion. It was difficult for Him to find a comfortable resting position during the night, which was darker than squid-ink pasta would eventually be. So He said, “Let there be lights in the heavens, and let there be two lights: the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser to rule the night.” And since He had big plans for the next day, He turned in early. So the evening and the morning were the fourth day.

The fifth day was going to be huge, so the FSM rose early. Then He said, “Let the waters abound, let the skies fill with birds, let the earth bring forth creatures, each according to its kind. Then let them canoodle and be fruitful.” And He saw that it was good, and He was feeling pretty proud of Himself, so He hit the Beer Volcano hard that afternoon.

Later that evening He rolled out of bed and landed hard on the firmament, and this, fair reader, was the true Big Bang. He had a funny
feeling and
realized
in His drunken stupor that He had not only built a factory in Heaven that turned out scantily clad women in transparent high heels, but He’d also created a midget on earth, whom He called Man. And He said, “Wow. Even I might have overreached my Noodly Appendage on this one,” and not even sure what day it was anymore, He decided to take an extended break from the whole creation gig, and He gave a quick blessing and declared, “From here on out, every Friday is a holiday.”

That midget, however, was goddamn noisy. The FSM couldn’t deal with all the complaining down on earth, so the Lord FSM commanded the midget, saying, “Here’s an idea … why don’t you collect the semolina, rice, and what-have-you, and make pasta in my image. That’s what it’s there for. And fill your mouth with it and be quiet and peaceful. But be careful with the olive tree, for the olive itself is good, but the pit inside is rock hard and you could choke on it or break a tooth, so you should consider it as
evil;
if you choke on it you shall surely die, which would mean I wasted a hell of a lot of time on you, although I’m already having second thoughts.” Man wasn’t excited about eating pasta seven nights a week, so the FSM broke down and brought him all the animals, and Man renamed each as a food group. Cattle he called “beef.” Pigs he called “pork,” “ham,” or “bacon.” Strangely, Man stuck with “chicken” for chicken. Perhaps Man was tired at this point and had lost his sense of creativity.

The FSM suggested that Man take a nap, so he did. When he awoke, the FSM said, “Man, have I got a surprise for you. Check this out.
Woman!”

The midget stared blankly for a moment, then said, “Can I keep her?” And the FSM said, “From now on a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and they shall become one flesh,” and then the FSM thought to Himself,
This should be interesting
.

“I owe you one,” said the midget-man.

Before long, Man broke his damned tooth on that olive pit, and the FSM said, “What did I give you ears for if not to listen to me?” And Man said, “I have ears?” And he eventually located them on the sides of his head, but not before discovering a small Noodly Appendage between his legs, which he noticed was infinitely smaller than even the shortest of the FSM’s appendages, and he realized that his woman appeared to be thinking the same thing, so the midget-man said, “Hand me one of those fig leaves, will you?” Later the woman suggested that Man didn’t need such a big fig leaf, and she hinted that there might certainly be another Man somewhere on earth, maybe Eden had a gardener somewhere, and the midget-man looked her up and down and said, “One word, honey.
Cellulite.”

Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves coverings. And they heard the sound of the FSM floating around the Olive Garden and they hid and said, “What are you doing here?” Then the FSM said, “Where are you?” Man said, “I heard you floating around over there, and I was afraid because I was naked; and I hid myself.” And the FSM said, “That’s fine, but can you tell me where you hid those delicious breadsticks? I haven’t eaten since the Creation.” “We ate them all,” the midget-man lied. “There aren’t any more breadsticks left.”