Half Moon Bay Pumpkin Festival
(Ray Comfort’s $100 bill, size comparison.)
(Rat not included.)
Last weekend, I went to the Half Moon Bay Pumpkin Festival. It isn’t the sort of event where I expected to encounter the forces of superstition, fear, and misinformation. Oh what a fool I am.
Overall, actually, I was rather impressed. Although ostensibly a harvest festival, the event overall contained all of the images of the season, which includes that most evil of holidays, Halloween. (BTW, harvest festivals are also pagan, so really, the entire event is non-Christian.)
Despite the festival’s pagan undertones, several of the food booths were run by churches. I also noticed that some of the churches in town were decorated with witches, black cats, and other Halloween imagery. It struck me that if this were held in the Deep South, not only would the churches not have evil, satanic, pagan decorations, but all their members would be out picketing.
(That’s right. I live in one of the least fundie regions in the nation, and I run an anti-fundie blog. That’s because if I lived anywhere else in the country, my brain would explode. That’s what happens when you put something filled with matter into a vacuum.)
But, as I alluded to at top, the event wasn’t devoid of superstition.
My first encounter occurred as I was driving into town. This event attracts 200,000 people over two days, so I got there early to avoid traffic. There isn’t much on-street parking, so all of the locals seize the opportunity to let you park in their lot—for a fee, of course.
I passed numerous signs advertising parking. “Park here! $5!” (I’m assuming they don’t mean 5-factorial. “What do you mean $120? Your sign said $5!” “Exactly!”)
“Park here! $10!”
“All-Day Parking! $15!”
I was able to get fairly close. Then I came to an intersection and had a dilemma. I saw two parking signs.
The one on the left said “Park at our church! Only two blocks from the festival! $5!”
The one on the right said “Park at our elementary school! Only four blocks from the festival! $10”
Hmmmmm… decisions… decisions…. I can spend $5 and only have to walk two blocks, but my money goes to brainwash the gullible with misinformation. Or I can spend twice that, have to walk twice as far, but my money helps to buy supplies for a destitute school.
Without even pausing long enough to blink, I turned right and parked at the elementary school.
As I was walking toward the festival, I saw a couple of guys standing on a street corner. They appeared to be handing something out.
Some people have “gaydar”. I have “fundar”. I know that isn’t a good pun, but you try to come up with a funny name for it. It’s actually not a special skill. Anytime you see somebody handing something out on a street corner, it’s virtually guaranteed to be a fundie.
I immediately realized that this could be something I could make fun of on my blog! (I’m always working for you folks, even when I’m doing other stuff!) Sure enough, it was!
“Would you like to have a $100 bill?” one of the fundies asked, holding up an oversized $100 bill.
Woohoo! Jackpot! A giant $100 bill!
That could only mean this is one of Ray Comfort’s fundiebots! I’ve been reading Ray’s emails for quite a while. He always has oversized crap like this to pass out. On the back, of course, is a Bible tract.
I was excited, because I knew these guys were out there. They stake out high-traffic areas, trying to snare the unwary, but I had never seen any in the wild. I was beginning to think they were extinct in Northern California (sort of like the grizzly bear, and just as dangerous).
“Is that Ray Comfort’s tract?”, I asked.
“Yes sir!”, the fundie said.
“Sure, I’ll take it!” I folded up my prize and stuffed it into my pocket, so no one would be able to steal it from me.
If you folks are lucky, and I have time (HA!), I’ll dissect the thing in a future article.
BTW, this thought occurred to me: Couldn’t I take Ray Comfort’s $100 bill and use it to pay for parking at that church up the street? Shouldn’t it be legal tender for them? “Keep the change!”, I’d tell them. I’m so generous at times!
The Twelve Commandments
As I continued my long, four-block slog to the festival, I passed a church (There were quite a few churches along that short stretch of road. What is Half Moon Bay’s problem?).
They had posted the Ten Commandments out front:
Umm… I mean Twelve Commandments.
A-OK Psychic Readings
Wandering around the festival, I happened upon this sign in the window of an alleged psychic:
Obviously, her powers do not extend to spelling.