#14 Confession

Going to ConfessionCajun people like confession. Well, they don’t like confession exactly, they just like the concept of confession. You sit in the confession booth, separated by a screen from your priest, and you spill your guts, leaving out no details. The priest then performs some complex sin calculus (or Sin-Fu), and gives you your penance – usually a handful of prayers. That’s it! No matter how bad your behavior was all week, just recite a few quick Hail Mary’s, and your soul is cleansed and ready for Heaven. Cursed a little bit too much? Got way too drunk last Saturday night? Had a little bit of pre-marital nookie? Just make a trip to the good ‘ole confessional and all of your transgressions shall be forgiven.

Confession is the ultimate loophole. It’s ten times better than getting a ticket fixed cause when you go to confession, you’re fixing your way into Heaven, chére. Wait just one second, don’t you have to be genuinely sorry for the confession to work? Yes, but most Cajuns truly are sorry, even while they’re in the middle of committing their sins. In our minds, there is no hypocrisy, no contradictions. The party side of our brains tell us to keep having fun, while the Catholic school boy side keeps a tally of all our wrongdoings. Cajuns are the ultimate compartmentalizers. If you need proof, look no further than the throngs of Coonasses flashing their boobs on Mardis Gras, while going around with ashes on their foreheads the following day.

Of course this discussion of confession applies only to Cajun Catholics. There are two main sub-species of Cajuns: Catholics and Recovering Catholics. If you’re in the first group, then you think to yourself, “I’d better get to confession before I die in an accident, or I’ll go straight to hell.” On the other hand, a Recovering Catholic might reject the notions of confession and sin, but their stomach doesn’t. It’s hard to shake off the years of influence the Catholic Church has had on you, but that’s a completely different discussion.

Next time you commit a whopper of a sin, don’t forget to drop by the confession booth on Sunday. Sure, your fellow parishioners all know what you’ve been up to, but that doesn’t matter, cause you’re A-OK in the eyes of The Lord.

If you don’t have time for confession, you can always post your deepest, darkest secrets here, but I don’t think it’s sanctioned by the Pope. Or just send them to me, ’cause I love juicy gossip.

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6 thoughts on “#14 Confession

  1. Ok, point of clarification. Cajun wimmins do NOT, I repeat, do NOT flash their boobs at Mardi Gras. Those chicks are usually out-of-towners casting off the shackles of oppression for the long weekend.

    Cajun girls know better. Besides, we got all the beads we need from the umpteen Mardi Gras parades and balls we’ve been to. The lure of the bead does not compel Cajun girls to bare the breast. Now, an LSU National Championship….possibly. If there’s Jagermeister involved.

    As a gal who was forced to go to confession every Saturday for at least 10 years, I have a deep aversion to the process but LOVE the concept. My husband has enlightened me to the wonders of indulgences…basically, you store up prayers for when you have sins to log against them. Sort of like, a lay away confession plan.

    Let us not forget, also, that most Cajuns’ sins are venial and not mortal, so while we might stay in Purgatory a little longer we’re likely making it to the Pearly Gates eventually.

    Sorry to be long-winded, but hey, I am Cajun and when you take away the use of my hands when I’m talking, they tend to write….ALOT.

  2. I’ll concede that the majority of Cajun women do not flash their boobs at Mardis Gras. It’s the Cajun men that let loose like there’s no tomorrow. I was just trying to make a point. I have, however, witnessed all sorts of other bad behavior that, while it doesn’t bother me, might add a few Hail Mary’s onto their Sunday penance. The layaway plan is a great idea, but the Church should sell some sort of gap insurance to cover you for any sins you commit between confessions.

    Anyway, you gave me great idea for my list…Cajun People like talking with their hands. Now if I can just stretch that to 400 words, I’ll be set.

  3. Uh, I’ve been known to flash my “manhood” at Mardi Gras and I’m Cajun. But I did it in New Orleans so maybe that doesn’t count.

  4. Those that wish to seek out the trigger of miracles, and to know the important things of nature as philosophers, and not to stare at them in astonishment like fools, are soon thought to be heretical and impious, and proclaimed as such by those whom the mob adores as the interpreters of nature plus the gods. For these males know that once ignorance is put aside that wonderment will be taken away which is the only implies by which their authority is preserved.

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  6. Pingback: Dear Internet, I’m Sorry | Broke-Ass Stuart's Goddamn Website

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