It seems to me that if you are solid in your religious faith -- or at least solid in your knowledge that your faith is a good thing for you -- then there should be no reason to care what anyone else thinks or says about it. This is why I don't understand Catholic protests of the movie Dogma or the Krewe de Vieux parade, or Muslim suicide bombing, or any form of extremism in between. It's also why I know there is no reason for me to give a damn about the Let's Bash Christianity For Easter stuff on my friends list, though it's admittedly harder to take when it's coming from people you care for and respect. I've certainly said gratuitous, mean shit about religion in the past -- cf. my first "Guilty But Insane" column, which reads in part, "On Ash Wednesday morning I had giant cups of coffee with Mr. Bruce Sterling (Author), which beats going to church to get Jesus-dirt smeared on your forehead, at least in my book." And that's how it was in my book then; if you had told me in 1997 that I would become a Catholic in 2008, I would probably have spat at you. But if you had told me my life would be torn apart by government incompetence in 2005 and I would be suicidally crazy for 2 1/2 years and snort heroin and have people knocking on my door at all hours to sell me Vicodin, I probably wouldn't have believed that either.

I guess what it comes down to is that it doesn't make me angry that other people are atheists, and I don't understand why it seems to make some people so angry that I (and others) are not. That's as long as I don't try to tell them what they should believe or otherwise inflict it on them, of course. I have no patience for those who push their beliefs on others. I believe people who do this have given "Christianity" such a bad name that, though I have no trouble referring to myself as a Catholic, I have not yet been able to refer to myself as a Christian.

My baptism/confirmation/First Communion went fine, but I've got a lot to absorb before I write about it, if I ever do. I was overwhelmed by the showering of love and gifts I received at the reception afterward. One of the main things I want out of this is a community, and at Our Lady of Good Counsel, I've found one that neither judges me nor argues with me when I disagree with something they believe.

In other news, Al Copeland is dead. I always liked him for being such a fly in Anne Rice's ointment, and while most people assume that Lenny in my Liquor novels is Emeril, he owes at least as much to Big Al. Rest in Pieces, Al, preferably a box of 12 spicy ones.

As well, this is precisely the situation Chris and I now find ourselves in with the so-called Road Home program, since we sold our house for its land value prior to being offered a Road Home settlement. We've been more fortunate than most of the folks in this article -- thanks to insurance money (not enough to make us whole, but some), my savings, Chris' hard work, and the incredible generosity of readers and friends in the aftermath of Katrina -- we were able to return to New Orleans and eventually buy a new house. Still, we are experiencing the same lies, cheating, and loss of what should have been ours.