Religion's in the hands of some crazy-ass people

I can't help but wonder how religion got its start. Here's my theory...

Caveboy is hanging around outside the family cave, playing with his favorite stick (the other one). He pauses a moment to watch his Cavedad push the Stegosaurus around the lawn. As his Cavedad halts in mid-swath to sip at his sarsparilla, Caveboy runs up to him, tugs at his animal skin and asks, "Daddy, why is the sky blue?"

This Cavedad happens to be particularly creative, thanks to a brand new modified gene, and proceeds to weave a web of wonder...you know, to cover up the not-knowing. "Well, son, you see, the water god's son cried a lot...and it drove him to drink. So he wandered the earth, and sipped from every lake, river, stream, sea and ocean. This made him happy, blottoed, and bloated and, lo, when he returned home, he trippeth over his son's favorite rock in the dark, and belcheth a blue streak..." Voila. Religion is born to explain the unexplainable, at least, until skeptics and analytical thinkers were born. Children who once upon a time asked many "Why?" questions and either weren't satisfied with the answer given or got the response, "Look it up."

Anyway, back to Cavedad and the various gods...Druids, Pagans, Wiccans, Hindus...they all pick up on this. Gods? Ooo! Toast, the God of Golden Brown! Fweep, the God of Gas! Witches Teat, the sweet, sweet Goddess of Cold! GENIUS! Farther down the road, Muslims and Christians decide "mmm...too complicated...let's narrow it down to one dude who did it ALL." Here endeth the lesson ala nutshell. That's all fine for some, however, I've 1) read too much and 2) subscribe to the next level of belief systems (well, two of them): The Church of Jimmy Buffett (Orthodox) and Motorcycling (Reformed).

I suspect, at any rate, that this origin of religion explains how a father can instinctively answer the question regarding how a giant zit can appear on your right butt cheek...he just makes something logical-sounding up. Unless he's a dermatologist; you then receive a clinical explanation involving words like "sebum" and "leather upholstery." ...At least Dad didn't say God was punishing me....er, that person with the butt zit.

Tangent swerve---hang on.

I swear if you ask my dad anything, he'll actually have an answer for it. Most of them make really good sense too, which leads me to believe he does know everything. But oh-ho, should he ask me a question...I stab right for the obvious. "Daughter, where do you think they get steel wool from?" Me -> "Steel sheep." Duh.