Ghosties and Ghoulies and Things Which Go Bump In the Night

FULL DISCLOSURE:  I was raised a Catholic and, as some of you know, was even an altar boy for four years.  Anyway, the following may offend the deeply religious.  And piss off people from Bridgeport, Connecticut who, let’s be honest, have enough problems.  In any case, if that describes you, you may wish to move along. Because I’m a sensitive soul who’s concerned about your feelings.  Anyone buy that?

  My daughter loves to watch “Ghost Adventures.”

  For those who have lives, “Ghost Adventures” is a program on the Travel Channel (Travel Channel??) that purports to show what the “living-challenged” are like.

  Oh, sure, some of you may smugly think you know everything there is to know about ghosts.  You’ve seen Casper cartoons, watched Bill Murray in “Ghostbusters,” and thought Patrick Swayze was the hottest spook you have ever seen.

  Poor Taste Department:  Of course, as we all know, Patrick Swayze has since become a ghost.

  Anyway, “Ghost Adventures” follows the…uh…adventures of Zak (he of the big biceps) and his two sidekicks as they crawl around supposedly haunted places in the middle of the night (never in broad daylight.  I think that’s a law or something).  Using state of the art equipment, two cheesy goatees, and panicked gasps of “Dude!” from Aaron, they try to convince us that mouse farts are, in reality, calls from beyond the grave.

  Hey, who’s to say that “PFFFFFTTTTTTBLURRRPPPPP!!!!!” isn’t

“Get out, before I pants you!”?

  Sometimes I watch the show with her just to make fun of it and poke her in the side while screaming, “Boo!”  Our favorite episode was when the boys visited the abandoned Remington Arms factory in Bridgeport, Connecticut.

  For those of you unfortunate enough to be traveling through Bridgeport (hopefully at warp speed, with the doors locked), you can see the factory just before you disappear in a pothole on I-95. 

  The reason I liked that particular show was that, since my personality was forged in that cauldron of urban decay, I recognized the area.  Which is why I moved very far away from it.  And have zero intention of ever going back.

  I had to laugh at Zak and company.  Even though they tried to impress upon us that their immortal souls were in danger, they were actually safer locked inside.  I’m not saying Bridgeport is dangerous, but even the birds carry guns.

  The more I thought about the idea of ghosts, the more I thought about what people do to get rid of them, especially if they’re stupid enough to build a house over an Indian (the Native American, not the Microsoft Call Center kind) graveyard (Never Amish).

  For instance, are Catholics the only ones allowed to be exorcists?

  What happens if a priest wasn’t available and you had to call in, say, a Methodist?

  OK, raise your hands.  How many think a demon would be intimidated by a Methodist?  That’s right, any self-respecting spawn of Satan would just yawn and put up drapes.

  I gotta think those plagued by poltergeists would have to call in a priest (sort of like a theological Batman), no matter whether they belonged to the true faith (see, Sister Mary Caligula?  I remember my teachings) or not.  Who’d then sprinkle some holy water on the sofa, say a few “Be gone from this holy place, foul demon!” incantations, and pass out some Bingo cards.  Voila!  No more demon!

  It couldn’t be that simple, though.  Certainly, there’d have to be Jewish ghosts.  Would a Catholic work then?  A crucifix would have no effect on a Yiddish evil spirit, I’m sure.  Maybe a Star of David?

  I would think for a Jewish ghost, you’d need a rabbi.  Imagine that….

  “So, Mr. Fancy-pants, you think you’re so special you can come in here and terrorize these nice people?  So, stop with the scary big shot act already, get your coat, and scram, ya schmuck, ya. And don’t forget to wipe your feet.”

  Plus, what about Muslim ghosts?  How would you even know your ghost was a Muslim?  Would you have a shoe thrown at you in the middle of the night?  Would you wake up without a head?

  How ‘bout Mormon ghosts?  I wouldn’t think that’d be so bad.  They’d probably only possess your bicycles. Still, they’d probably show up in pairs, disguised as Donny and Marie Osmond.

  Finally, how would you get rid of an atheist ghost?  Surely there’d have to be some.  Maybe all you’d need to say is, “You don’t believe in me?  Well, I don’t believe in you.  Swear to God.  Cake?”  Problem solved.

  Just to be on the safe side, better keep the Vatican on speed dial, though.  

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