Two Things

Okay, I've got two things I want to talk about.

First, today is the National Day of Reason. This day is observed in response to the National Day of Prayer, the national holiday declared in 1952 when Harry Truman and the 82nd United States Congress decided that pesky First Amendment was just getting in the way of all the state-sponsored religious fun they could be having. Personally, I'm going to celebrate it by telling random strangers that I think that the separation of church and state is super neat-o keen! So go out and proclaim your love of the Establishment Clause today (and if someone tries to pull the "fact" out of their ass that the Constitutional Convention began with a prayer, you can tell them that was a myth, and what really happened: that Benjamin Franklin suggested this and the rest of the representatives did their best to ignore him and move on). And for those who can't see how having a state-funded day of prayer is offensive, apply this simple test to see if your religious authority has overstepped its bounds. Simply change all references to the religion in question to references to Scientology. If you are appalled, then now you know how the rest of us feel. Please enjoy your Scientology Day of Thetan Acquiescence Auditing.

Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, I am now the top result in the Canadian version of Google for the search string "is there such thing as a purple cat" (in American Google, I'm only the second, boo). I know this because some enterprising young Canadian (I'm actually just assuming on all three of those, actually) found my blog using just such a string, and being so enterprising, and young, and Canadian, clicked on the first link and found themselves on this very blog. Of course, they didn't stay long, as the only thing on the page was a ridiculous short story about doobies and detectives, and absolutely no evidence whatsoever for the existence of violet-colored felines, and thus exited the page, perhaps cursing themselves for being a bit too enterprising for so quickly clicking on such obvious twaddle. Well, nuts to you, my annoyingly enterprising friend from the Great White North, but thank you for bringing to my attention my prominent status in those fine frozen servers that make up Canadian Google. In celebration of this event, I have created the following graphic:







People of Canada, consider this picture to be my gift to you. Here at last is the proof that not only does the purple cat exist, but it is Canadian too! And for your generosity, perhaps I'll mention something about Alberta in my next Shandley short.

Okay, I know it seems like I've been having a bit of fun at the expense of Canada, so as a show of good faith I would like you all to please rise for the Canadian National Anthem. This is definitely not a joke.





See? What could possibly be more serious than that?

Just How Deep Does the Rabbit Hole Go?

If you live in California, in the weeks leading up the last election you probably saw this commercial for goddamned Proposition 8 where a Massachusetts couple claims that their child was forced, apparently at gunpoint, to read gay porn in the guise of children's book (I'm not going to link to the video, because I don't want Youtube to think I'm some sort of crazy bigot, and start recommending me the KKK's channel or something). Of course, their claim was cleaned up a bit, their claim of hardcore pornography changed to "pro-gay literature" so that they wouldn't come off as obvious psychopaths.

Let's set aside the issues of free speech and censorship. Not even going to talk about it, for the moment it doesn't matter. Let's also set aside the fact that the book is obviously not a propaganda piece, but rather just an exposure to an alternative lifestyle. Let's set aside the fact that the book wasn't part of the school's curriculum, and belonged to one of the students who requested that the teacher read it. Let's even set aside the fact that the supposedly persecuted parents were the only ones actually making threats in the whole affair. All of these are good enough reasons to discount the opinions of these people, but that's not what I want to discuss right now. That discussion has already taken place, and I have nothing to add to it. No, I want to talk about their motives.

Given their persecution complex and ridiculously outspoken bigotry, it shouldn't surprise you to learn that this couple is Mormon. Within its history, Mormonism has always hid its wrongdoings under the cloak of the perceived religious intolerance against them. They whine that the entire state of Missouri declared war on them, neglecting to mention that war was started because they were stealing land in a violent coup. They point out that the country sent an army to kill Brigham Young, but leave out that he had sent the appointed governors back to Washington to deliver the message that if any further government officials were sent, they would be delivered back home in very small boxes. And recently, a white powdery substance was apparently delivered to the Mormon temples in California and Salt Lake, and it wouldn't surprise me at all if it were an inside job to garner sympathy for there cause in what has become a very hostile climate.

At this point, the Devil's Advocate jumps in to say, "So what if they're Mormon? Does that make them bad people?" No, not all Mormons are bad people. In fact, a few of them aren't even retarded! However this couple's response is the typical stratagem (Note the use of the singular, that's what we like to call wit!) of the Mormon organization. In fact one might begin to think that perhaps the couple might be insiders, taking their orders from within the superstructure of the Mormon church.

And one would be right. A recent memo from within the ranks of the Mormon church has been exposed, outlining their anti-gay twelve year plan. This memo mentions a man named Dick Wirthlin as a key member of the initiative. Turns out Dick's nephew is the man appearing in these inflammatory videos. And just who the hell is dear old Uncle Dick anyway? Ol' Dick Wirthlin at the time was a General Authority in the Church of Too Fucking Long a Name. To those who don't speak Mormonese, he's the equivalent of a Cardinal in the Catholic Church, pretty high up indeed.

Now here's the kicker, this memo was dated March 4, 1997. The Wirthlins filed their complaint in 2006. These people spent 9 years waiting for something vaguely offensive to happen so that they could scream about it loud enough to get national attention. And then all that media attention was wrapped up with a nice little bow and fed to an unwary public to pass a hateful piece of legislature.

This couple is just another arm of the Mormon church, whose influence has finally stepped just far enough over the line to gain some attention. In fact, as we speak this I-can't-believe-I'm-still-calling-it-a-church is being investigated for election fraud. Apparently they only reported five thousand dollars in contributions. For someone like me, who has seen first hand the organization of the Mormon wing of this campaign through my family, that number is almost precious. It's like asking a little kid how old they think the earth is, and they reply, "weally old, like a hundwed years!" You can't help but laugh at the naivete of someone who thought that number seemed plausible. Their budget is full of huge holes and unrecorded expenses, and one way or another, the Mormon Church is going to pay.

So to everyone who said that the Mormon Church wasn't that involved in Prop 8, you can kiss my ass. As far as I'm concerned, this isn't just a smoking gun. This is the moment caught on video camera, clear as day, and the Mormon church was caught holding the gun, masturbating on the corpse. And this is me flipping the bird at my childhood religion and saying, "Guess what, buddy? You're fucked."

And this is only the beginning.

An Heavenly Encounter

Attention Internets: This very night I was visited by our lord and savior Jesus Christ. I was sleeping, and all of a sudden there was a bright light and a choir of angels, and Jesus was standing right there in my bedroom. Luckily, I had a tape recorder by my bed (it came with my review copy of Bioshock), and I was able to capture our entire conversation. Here is the transcript of that meeting:


ME
Jesus Christ!

JESUS
Sup, bro?

ME
Um, nothing much. What’s up with you, Jesus?

JESUS
I’m chill, man. You know, takin’ it easy.

ME
Um, what are you doing here, Jesus?

JESUS
I’ve come to help you out, bro. Show you the way, and shit. Teach you how to live your life, you dig?

ME
Okay... Sure, tell me how I should live my life.

JESUS
You should never be a dick to anyone, man. Just, like, be cool to people. Be a nice guy, like, help old ladies across the street and shit. You know, shit like that.

ME
So, you came into my room in the middle of the night, to tell me to be nice to people?

JESUS
Yeah, man, the good works and shit.

ME
You know, Jesus, I kind of already knew that.

JESUS
Oh, shit man, sorry, my bad. I should have known you’d have your shit together. Fuck, I’m sorry, bro.

ME
It’s okay, Jesus.

JESUS
Naw, man, I was like serious out of line. I crossed a line, I’m so sorry, dude.

ME
Dude, you couldn’t have known. I mean, you’ve been dead for like two thousand years.

JESUS
Aw, buzzkill, man. Are you serious? Am I really all corpsed up?

ME
Yeah, they nailed you to a piece of wood.

JESUS
Oh shit, yeah, I remember that shit now. That was a bad fuckin’ day, you know?

ME
That’s gotta be unpleasant.

JESUS
Shit. Well hey, man, if you already know all that shit, does that mean you’re gonna join my church?

ME
Which one is yours?

JESUS
Fuck, I can’t remember that shit, man. Ummm... Scientology?

ME
Scientology, really?

JESUS
I don’t know, man. I think it starts with an “S.” Or maybe it was an “F.” Ah fuck it, my church is full of assholes anyway, you probably wouldn’t like it.

ME
You’re probably right.

JESUS
Well, bro, I guess I should be going. Get some fucking sleep, man. Oh, and hey, hit me up sometime. We’ll rock some mad ping pong.

ME
Jesus, I am terrible at ping pong.

JESUS
Shit man, me too. I don’t even know why I fucking like it so much.

At this point Jesus laughs for about two minutes, nonstop. Seriously.

JESUS
Hey, you got my cell number?

ME
No, Jesus, I don’t think I do.

JESUS
Hold on a sec.
(he pats down his robe)
Ah, fuck! Where the hell is that shit? Man, I hate this fucking robe. Shit is always falling out of it. Not cool.

ME
I’m sorry, Jesus. Maybe you should buy a pair of pants or something?

JESUS
Yeah, I should do that, shouldn’t I? See, this is why I love you man, you’re a fucking genius, you’ve got all the great plans. Well hey, maybe I’ll just see you around.

ME
Sure thing, Jesus. I’ll see you around.

JESUS
Later, bro.


END TRANSCRIPT


And with that, he vanished. I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again, but I guess Jesus is a pretty cool guy. A little scatterbrained, but a decent dude nonetheless. Also, he smelled really... herbal. Not really sure what to make of that.

Hopefully I’ll see him again. I don’t know, where does Jesus like to hang out? The mall? Does anyone know? If anyone knows where I can find Jesus, drop me a line. Anyway, I’m going to go do as the savior-man suggested and catch some more Zs. Good night, Internet.

A Funny Thing Happened...

So, something interesting has happened. While looking through my recent traffic, there was a decent-sized spike right around when I posted my last entry on the California gay marriage ban. The reason this is interesting is because, random searches for off-kilter pornography aside, I would estimate that this blog is read by a grand total of about four people. That's when I noticed I had been linked from a Mormon apologetic message board.

That alone gave me a chuckle. Because of this, far more people have been exposed to my words than I ever intended, and it's because of someone who obviously disagrees with me. Then I read his post, and my chuckle graduated to become something like spontaneous rapture.

See, this guy decided to analyze my post. He posted it in pieces, with his own little comments after each section, analyzing my "arguments." The word "arguments" is in quotes there because I am referring to the points I made in my rant. Because that's what it was, a nice little rant that I only wrote because I was pissed off and writing about it helped me feel better. But I felt about a million times even better when I saw that idiots were obsessing over my own stupid little blog.

This has honestly made my night, that for at least a little while some asshole not only read my off-the-top-of-my-head purposefully inflammatory post, but was forced to actually think about them. Seriously, this is like catching someone watching a fake newscast on a TV show and thinking that it's real. Not that there was anything fake about my words, the opinions are true and valid, it's just that I probably wouldn't go publishing them in any scholarly journals, because it was just for fun. And I am just loving how it's making people squirm.

And no, I'm not going to link to it, because these people are still assholes, and even though I enjoy laughing at them they do not deserve any of the attention they get. Here, however, are some people I will happily draw attention to:



"What's more harmful to society - two well-dressed men getting married and settling down, or two idiots tying the knot and cranking out any number of additional idiots?"
--Robert Kirby, Salt Lake Tribune

--

"To those of you sitting out there gloating, wasn't it enough to have Stuart Matis' blood on your hands? You wanted more blood? You, the vampires of the human spirit seem to have an insatiable need to keep robbing those of us who are different of our lifeblood and our desire for safety and dignity.

"You have robbed wrongly this time. You have unleashed the fury of a thousand gays. You have piled on the final straw, the last drop, the last nail. You have taken your last best swing and now you will pay the piper.

"The smugness on your faces right now will soon be replaced with a more humbled countenance as you begin to realize how much damage you have done to yourselves and begin to be aware of the sound and the fury that is coming. Enjoy your fifteen minutes of smugness because it will soon be over. Oh man, you have no idea. Go back and read about Stonewall and know that this is its second coming."
--TLC, Exmormon.org Recovery Board

--

"All, too, will bear in mind this sacred principle, that though the will of the majority is in all cases to prevail, that will to be rightful must be reasonable; that the minority possess their equal rights, which equal law must protect, and to violate would be oppression."
--Thomas Jefferson

--

"I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right temporarily defeated is stronger than evil triumphant. I believe that even amid today's mortar bursts and whining bullets, there is still hope for a brighter tomorrow."
--Martin Luther King Jr., Acceptance Speech, Nobel Peace Prize 1964



Quotes like these remind me of the power of words. But it seems, even words shouted into the void, shouted in vain for no reason other than to please the one that spoke them, can wield power, even if that power is just the ability to piss off some religious nutjobs. Which is a fine and respectable power to have. In fact, this power is as close to a genuine goddamned miracle as I have ever seen.

When I wrote my last post, people sat up and took notice of someone who was, in the grand scheme of things, entirely unimportant. After all, who am I? Nobody really, I'm just some guy who writes his opinions down on a blog because it helps him to organize his thoughts. But it worried them. It worried them that someone cared so much, to see that outpouring of emotion. One man writes a blog to nobody in particular, and they go on the defensive. We are dealing with scared people here, who know that their current state of power is built on a house of cards, and the only way they can keep it from blowing over is to blow back as hard as they can.

So do me a favor. Anyone who reads these words, go out there and piss someone off. Someone who really deserves it. It doesn't take much, and remember that the fact that you're getting to them means that you're undermining their position. Show the world your love, your anger, your indomitable spirit, your righteous indignation, whatever. If the best revenge is living well, then live as well as you can. Do whatever makes you happy, and be proud of it. And if the jackasses of the world get their panties all in a bunch, you know you are doing it right.

Words have tremendous power. Even when you are throwing them away on a dumb little blog. And this tiny little splash that I doubt many people have even noticed still contributes to the growing ripple that will one day change the world.

And that is very cool indeed.

On 'Athiests'

Here’s the thing: I love a good argument. This is because I don’t see them as a clashing of people, but as a clashing of ideas. History is made through arguments; new ideas are defined by pitting them against the old ones. More can be learned through the meeting of the minds than by any other method. Arguing with someone is inviting another thought process into your life, to present a point of view that you might not have considered. Mind you, I’m not talking about some kind of namby-pamby lovefest where everyone is right and everyone’s ideas are considered worthwhile and valuable, no matter how dumb they are. No, the most useful argument is one where no one holds back, and if you say something, you’d better be prepared to back it up. I say this so that when I say that I’ve been known to hit up religious message boards or chat rooms, you know that I’m not just some jackass looking for trouble.

On these message boards, an interesting misspelling crops up fairly often. The word, as depicted in millions of online message, is “athiest.” It is interesting to note, that it is always the religious who spell it this way, apparently all the atheists in the world know how to spell their own ideology. Now, one could take the easy way out and conclude that all believers are idiots (in fact, many do), but that doesn’t quite explain such widespread misuse of the word; after all, surely even some idiots own dictionaries. No, the answer is not intelligence, but rather the exercise of said intelligence. They misspell the word, because they are not used to using it. You see, these people don’t like arguments.

To love an argument is to not have any personal stake in it. My opinions are fluid, they can be changed. Not easily, mind you, I do have certain convictions that are powerfully cemented from years of observation and experience, but they can, and occasionally have been shifted. This cannot be said of the most vocally religious. These people are not fun to argue with. Anything you say to them will either be ignored or quickly forgotten. Instead of arguing a point, they will turn antagonistic, and either attack you directly or unpack their straw man and have a go at him.

I had an argument a little while ago with a mormon missionary when he mentioned he supported a certain upcoming ballot measure in the state of California that would outlaw gay marriage. Out of curiosity, I asked him what the difference between straight marriage and gay marriage was. He replied by pointing out the most obvious difference, which I guess is what I get for wording the question the way I did. I refined my query to “from a legal perspective, how is a marriage between two persons any less valid than a marriage between two other persons?” He replied that marriage is classically defined as between a man and a woman. That didn’t exactly answer my question, but I continued the debate anyway by pointing out that, in fact, marriage in this country was classically defined as between a white man and white woman, so obviously tradition is not a substantial reason to preserve an archaic law. He then said it was because homosexuality is unnatural, and no doubt in anticipation of my impending “how so?” elaborated that two persons of the same sex cannot have a baby. Well, obviously that was contrary to the facts, because there are lots of gay couples with babies, and I asked him if he thought that the “unnatural” practice of adoption was immoral. It went like this for a little while longer, until finally so many of his excuses had been shot down that the truth finally came out. It was because a preacher at a pulpit had said it was wrong. He said, “I know as an athiest (okay, it was a verbal conversation, but I could swear that the way he spoke it he put the ‘i’ before the ‘e’) that you wouldn’t understand what it’s like to have faith.” I replied that the only thing I didn’t understand was how we had talked for over an hour without the topic of religion coming up, when this was clearly the basis for his decision.

Faith, it seems leads people to duplicitous actions. Or, then again, maybe not. After all, what is faith? I would define faith as a confidence that is not based on proof. The religious use the words ‘faith’ and ‘belief’ interchangeably, but I do not think that they are. You can believe in something without having faith in it. Faith implies more, that not only what you believe in exists, but that it has the power to make everything okay. I do not think this young man had faith. I’m fairly certain he believes in his god, but he does not have faith in him. If he did, he would not be using half-assed, poorly thought out “logic” to try to convince me. He would have spoken from the heart, secure in the knowledge that eventually god would sort everything out.

If you believe in god, then you have one of two things: faith or fear. In my experience, it is the ones who have fear who are the most outspoken. These people are so frustrated by every little thing that dares contradict the thing that they so desperately desire, that they will spit out the most hateful, vitriolic nonsense you will ever hear in an attempt to destroy it. If you truly have faith, there should be no need to destroy anything. No pastor delivering an angry sermon, no street preacher crying judgment day, no evangelical speaking in tongues, nobody in a suit handing out flyers, no shouting conservative on cable news, and certainly no boy with a name tag and bicycle, none of them truly have faith. If they did, they would not need to rely on cheap theatrics and social pressures. In fact, they would not need to do anything, because they should already believe that everything is going to end well.

I’ve talked to people who have faith. They are generally much more productive than the believers who lack it. I’ve had some interesting, and much more honest arguments with people of faith. They haven’t been able to convince me to change my views, nor I them, but in the end we’ve usually learned something about each other. For those of you out there who believe in a god and have faith, real, honest faith, then let me say how much I respect you for that. I still disagree with you, and I will defend that position with everything I’ve got. But if you’ll allow me, I’ll buy you a nice cup of tea and we’ll sit down and have a good argument about it.

Penn Jillette Disagrees With the Pope

As sick as I am of this topic, I just couldn't resist giving the last word to Penn. I'll now return to my usual schedule of updating once a month.

Just kidding!






...Maybe.

On ‘Losing’ Faith

Pity. Ask any religious person what they feel for atheists, and in more, or sometimes even less words, this is the answer you will receive. That person has ‘lost’ their faith. They’re ‘struggling’ with their faith. They make it sound as if we’re toiling away in darkness, completely hopeless and alone. Well, I’ve got news, I’m not struggling at all.

After all, how can you struggle with something that was never really there? When you discover that the shadowy figure that has been intimidating you all these years is actually just a pile of paper bags, would you describe that moment as a struggle? I looked God in the eye and saw he was just a harmless puppy, and decided to no longer pay him any more mind: which worked for a while.

I’m a pretty upfront guy. If someone asks me a question, I’m going to honestly answer it to best of my ability, because that’s what we do in a society, we help each other and communicate. And because religion is such a huge part of most people’s lives, the topic of what you believe is going to come up. And when religious people find out you’re an atheist, they can’t seem to stop asking you questions.

Which is why I’m here, writing this blog post: because people keep bothering me about it and then getting increasingly upset at my answers, and this frustrates the Hell, Michigan out of me. Why does this keep happening? Because of the stereotype of the person who has ‘lost’ their faith. Because when the faithful find out about me, they are surprised that I am not the person they imagined, who sits alone at night, weeping and blubbering about ‘why couldn’t I just have been more faithful?’ That person does not exist outside of Sunday School indoctrination sessions. ‘Wait,’ you persons of faith out there may say, ‘That can’t possibly be true. I’ve heard first hand accounts of such things.’ I dare all of you to challenge that hand. Ask for specific details about this mysterious person, ask to meet them. Suddenly the hand will no doubt admit that it is not the first, but rather the second, or third hand, and that to arrange this would be terribly inexpedient and socially unacceptable. Go ahead, try it and come back, so that we’re all on the same page here.

So, a person of faith has just found out that you are a dirty heathen (side note: in the interest of correctness please encourage your religious friends to use this term in lieu of infidel or pagan, as we are not fooling around with some other god and we certainly aren’t polytheists) and you’ve just turned their world upside down by not being a sad sack of shit wallowing in some basement eating rat turds. First question: why did you abandon the faith you were raised in? There is absolutely no answer you can give that will satisfy them, and don’t bother stealing my paper bag analogy, because I know for a fact that doesn’t work. The reason for this is because this question is a trap in the sand. They don’t actually want to hear your view, they want to help you get back on the right path. They want you to raise some niggling concern, so they can say, ‘Pray about it,’ or ‘Just have faith.’ Even with all the bending over backwards they do to accommodate flawed logic, they can't see that neither of these is an adequate response to ‘Besides being incredibly unlikely, the concept of god is not the least bit useful to me.’

Religion is a train that travels all day in a tiny little circle. You can get on at whatever point appeals to you most, but once you do, you’ve got to follow the path all the way around again, over and over. And that moment of doubt is a cow that’s wandered onto the tracks. Everything grinds to a halt for several minutes while it gets sorted out. For me, it was the moment I decided that the train was stupid, and I could really do with a nice walk. For those committed to the train, this just annoys the crap out of them. And for most of them, this is where they get devious.

At this point, their honor is on the line, because you’ve just dismissed their entire belief system, which is not something I take pleasure in, it’s just the truth. And if you’re like me you’ve got some pretty strong statements to support your position, so they’ve taken a defensive position. This is where you will hear all the same pathetic arguments over and over, time and time again. ‘So you don’t believe in an afterlife? Isn’t that sad? What’s the point of being good if there’s no god? Isn’t it better to be wrong than spend an eternity in hell? You know, Hitler and Stalin were atheists. Every culture on Earth has some sort of religion, don’t you think there’s something to that?’

When those shriveled old chestnuts fail to impress you, they break out the testimonials. Talking about how they believe because they’ve felt Jesus or some such thing. At this point both of you are just going through the motions. I don’t even know why they do this, some sort of sense of duty or something, maybe? It’s not particularly convincing. If I don’t like asparagus, you could have thirty people come in and gush for hours about how asparagus is the best thing since sexual intercourse, and afterward I wouldn’t be any less convinced. You’re just wasting my time.

Finally, we come to the end. ‘Well, it works for me.’ Finally a sentiment I can get behind. Except that in this case, it’s full of shit. If you actually believed that was a valid statement, we wouldn’t have had the last two thirds of this conversation. This is a point I always make clear pretty early on, that I don’t give a shit what you believe. Sure, I think it’s great when people become atheists, and I’m a bit more likely to take your opinions seriously if you are; but as long as you’re not a twattering gasbag, I don’t care.

So from now on, I think I am going to carry around business cards with the permalink URL for this post written on the back, so that this has to be the last time I have this conversation. I really am that sick of it.

And for all those who are just skimming this article, a quick recap of my key points in answer to the question of my ‘loss’ of faith:

1. I don’t believe in any god because there is need in this universe for a god.


2. I have already seen, and rejected as weak every logical argument for the existence of god there is out there; and even if you think you’ve got a new one, it has been said before.


3. Your own faith is not going to persuade me.


4. You are free to believe what you like, so long as you afford me the same privilege. I will not think any less of you as long as you also respect me.

A Variation

A historian, a scientist, and a mathematician are sharing a cabin on a train traveling through Scotland. The train suddenly stops, and the conductor announces that the train will be delayed for some time, so they talk to pass the time. As the historian glances out the window, he notices a lone black sheep standing in a field. "Ah, all Scottish sheep are black," he exclaims. The scientist corrects him. "No," she says, "it is far more likely that some Scottish sheep are black, and others are white." They both naturally turn to the mathematician, who silently contemplates the sheep for some time. Eventually, he says, "In this particular field, on this particular day, at this particular time, there exists one sheep that is at least half black."

Meanwhile, a priest walks by, and the group inquires his opinion on the matter. The priest replies, "All Scottish sheep are white, that black one is a forgery made by the devil."

---

Plus: a bonus fallacious proof of the existence of unicorns:

Einstein showed that space and time are closely related.
There was no space before the universe existed.
Thus, there was no time before the universe existed.
Space is infinite.
Therefore, time is also infinite.
Thus, time has always existed.
Thus, before the big bang, time both existed, and didn't exist.
Therefore, if something exists, it also doesn't exist.
Unicorns don't exist.
Thus, unicorns exist.
QED

Outside, Looking In

I was given a script to read, a part to play. I read my script and played my part, and I did so with true intent. Simply excited to be on stage, I gave no thought to the content or quality of my script. I was a part of something, a grand play. My friends and I all defined ourselves around our acting, often staying late under the guise of improving our acting, but really we just fed each other meaningless compliments. In truth, our acting was terrible, but nobody cared enough to tell us, or perhaps they simply didn’t notice.

Deep into a rehearsal session one day, something happened. I faltered, and could not find the words. I knew the words, I had said them a hundred times before, but for some reason they simply would not come. I stumbled and stammered through, mortified beyond belief at my failure. I expected to be either mocked or chastised, but to my surprise it was as though nothing had happened. The others cheerily patted me on the back, the director chimed in with his usual uplifting comments. It was then that I noticed how fake everyone was, how hollow the whole ordeal felt.

I started to become bored with the play we had been working on for so long. I began dropping lines out of my dialog, to see if anyone would notice. Sometimes, I would arrive at the start of rehearsal, then sneak out to the parking lot to sit in my car and listen to the radio. I would return before the end, and if anyone noticed, they never said anything.

One day, the director called me aside to inform me I was being recast. Starting next week, I would be playing the lead. THE lead. Suddenly my passion was renewed. I instantly forgot my distaste for the material, because after all, now it was all about ME! My eyes filled with stardom, I worked harder and longer than I ever had before. I honed my craft, my part became my life. Then something happened that would change everything.

I saw a play.

I know, it sounds crazy that I spent so much time on this project without actually doing any actual research, right? Well, that’s what I figured, so I decided to go out and actually see a play. What I experienced was shocking to me.

It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. The characters felt real, the story was enthralling, and most of all, it actually made me feel something. It made the play I was working on look like the scrawls of some halfwit with a fountain pen full of feces. I began to see more plays, some good, some bad, but all were better than that awful festering mold on the nipples of good taste that we had the poor sense to commit a crime against humanity by calling it a play.

Yet I still felt an obligation to participate in it. Maybe out of some sort of sense of duty, maybe because these people were my friends, and I didn’t want to disappoint them. I did my best to try to elevate it, but I simply felt foolish. I sleepwalked through most of the rehearsals, and left as early as I could. Whenever I was there, I wasn’t actually there. My mind wandered, to more interesting places, more compelling subjects, and sometimes I would read my mail-order scripts during times when I was supposed to be studying my lines.

The big day finally came, opening night. I looked around, surrounded by plastic smiles and propped up bravado. The curtain rose, and I looked out over the audience. I realized how incredibly silly I must look, associating myself with these mannequins and spouting this worthless tripe.

I was given a script to read, and a part to play.

Breathlessly, I stepped forward. The other actors waited in their states of mock euphoria for me to start the show, the audience politely and silently held their applause. I stood straight and tall, in this moment of frozen time, and they regarded me with slight anticipation. In that very moment, I clicked my feet together, lowered my chest in a tremendous bow, and exited the stage, never to return.

Easter Sunday

Easter has come and gone, and to this atheist's examination, it seemed like any other day. Of course, even as a child, the day never held any deeper significance than a day adults give you candy. Seriously, it was even better than Halloween, because you didn't have to actually go out and earn the candy, they just gave it to you. But did we care at all about some dude named Jesus whose actions did something or other for our eternal souls?

Fuck no.

Of course, as you get older, nobody wants to give you free candy anymore. Instead, they want you to give thanks to Jesus, for saving your ass for eternity.

Actually, why the fuck do we need saving in the first place? Apparently because our supposed ancestors ate some apples, and that pissed God off so much that he doomed all mankind to suffering and misfortune. Kinda seems like you overreacted, big guy. And the solution is even worse, in order for us to escape eternal damnation because of some bitch who was just fucking hungry, some guy has to be brutally tortured and killed. Setting aside the fact that this hardly seems like it solves anything, why the hell is God such a fucking prick?

People ask me why I'm an atheist, and I'd have to say it's because of shit like this. Yes, I have no proof that such a God doesn't exist, but even if he did, I would never in a million years worship this heartless fuck. Even setting doctrine aside, I've made the following observation: For a majority of the people in the world life is miserable. Terrible things happen to good people, and wonderful things happen to bad people. Believers always counter this with some sort of quote, usually containing the word "adversity." Fuck that, there are people who are starving to death, whose entire existence is nothing but pain. What fucking adversity are they supposed to overcome? The desire to eat? Gee, I guess you're right, those starving kids are all just a bunch of pussies, they just need to have more faith.

This leaves us with the following options regarding God:

1. God doesn't exist.


2. God doesn't care.


3. God is a sadist.


4. God is benevolent, but also retarded.

Call me an optimist, but option "a" seems the most palatable to me.

But if I'm wrong, looks like I'm pretty fucked now, doesn't it? After all, all throughout this post I've said some rather nasty things about our good buddy God, haven't I? Well, if Christianity does hold all the truth it claims to, then I think I'll be okay. Yes, I'm going to hell, but don't forget, who's in charge of hell? That's right, Satan, and that's one guy who hates God as much as I do. I think we'll get along just fine, we'll just watch some R-rated movies while we smoke some marijuana. In fact, why don't we throw a party?

In recognition of this day of salvation, on the almost nothing chance that the Bible actually is the word of God, I'm issuing an open invitation to a kickass party in hell. All you have to do to RSVP is commit some kind of blasphemy sometime between now and your death. There will be amazing acts of wanton carnality unlike anything you've ever seen before. We'll have loud music that promotes unsavory lifestyles. And best of all, that bastard God isn't invited.

See you there!

Start at the End

Have you ever done anything you later came to regret? Have you ever hurt someone, intentionally or unintentionally, only to realize your wrongdoing too late, and now that person remains lost to you forever? Have you ever felt like you were caught in a dark dense fog, and in your confusion and fear you lashed out, thrashing, biting, and screaming, only to have the fog lift to discover your perceived attackers were really your friends all along?

Today I am taking the first steps to put the darkness behind me, but in doing so, I realize I can never truly be free of it. The time to make amends came, and went while I was still enshrouded. The memories are painful, having to watch yourself make your worst decisions over and over. At times like these, I can understand why the concept of sin came to be. This deep feeling of regret, which never seems to disappear, can begin to feel like a stain on the soul.

So what happens? A con artist shows up to try to sell you salve for your soul. Absolution at reasonable rates. After all, we're all sinners, every single one of us, and we all could stand to lighten our burdens. But that miracle analgesic is really just cold cream, and we're being ripped off. Believe me, I know, because I've pushed the cold cream, in fact that's one of my regrets. And it's designed that way. They have you lie to people, that way if you ever want to leave, you have to embrace the darkness and face the pain of one of the worst decisions of your life. You find yourself trapped by an ever-expanding wall of pain and misery, and few people have the courage to climb it.

This step I am now taking, I have been putting it off for fear that it would strain some of my relationships, but I see now that I have in fact put it off too long. By holding on to my association, even if it is simply a matter of record, I am continuing to lend support to my regrets. Well, not anymore, I am ending my part in this cycle of lies. True, this in no way absolves me, but I've no longer come to expect absolution. That promise is a lie, and the refuge of a coward. All we can do is deliver our best effort, and hope that it eventually gets better.

Salvation lies not in a great chapel of brick and mortar, but in a simple act of honesty and compassion.

A Broken Mind

In my last post, I discussed how to set up a rational method for handling your decisions. In this post, I'd like to take a moment to lament those who are no longer capable of accessing those basic tools. The people who have dedicated their life so fully to a wrong idea that to even question it slightly would completely destroy them. I am talking about those defenders of the indefensible, ecclesiastical apologists.

I've never quite understood why these people exist. I mean, what idea could possibly be so important that you still cling to it, even after logic comes in and kicks its ass up and down the courtyard and pisses on its limp, unconscious body? What kind of person invests themselves that fully in an unproven concept? Certainly not a normal person. And it's true, these people are indeed far from normal. Obviously they believe, because otherwise why would they be defending such a ridiculous idea? Except that deep down, not a single one of them does. A person who truly believes does not need to resort to apologetics, because they have their faith to fall back on. If you are a religious person, and you have need to answer the claims of critics, it's only because somewhere inside of you, you hold those same concerns.

It's a shame too, because often these people are quite intelligent. They waste so much potential chasing logic in circles, melding lies and truth until they can no longer tell the difference between either, and paralyzing their minds with an astounding level of cognitive dissonance. For example, obviously an apologist knows what a logical fallacy is, they are quite adept at pointing them out, even when one doesn't actually exist. Yet to read their work, almost every significant statement contains at least one blatant fallacy. Or often they will play the post-modernist card, that nothing in life can really be known, so how can you prove my religion is false? This, of course, is the rhetorical equivalent of running out the door, turning off the lights, and shouting, "case closed!" as you disappear into the distance. And of course, there's the old uncited historical source routine. This is where they make a dubious claim, as if it were common knowledge, straight off the top of their heads, with absolutely nothing to back it up except maybe for a derisive guffaw. Do they not realize that they're using such weaselly methods? Hard to say, actually. It may just be another effect of the cog dis, or maybe they feel the need to lie to serve their end, although either way the intention is still about the same. To desperately defend this apparent lynch pin of your life, at all costs.

True, these people are to be pitied, but does that mean they are not to be mocked? Absolutely not, by all means, mock away. There's no need to poke holes in their arguments, because the holes are already there, and they're huge. These people aren't human, the more logic you throw at them, the more deranged and unpredictable they get. All your pity and good intentions will do is anger them. So just have a laugh with your friends about their flimsy argument, then move on and go about your business. And to help you feel better about what is essentially making fun of the mentally handicapped, let's take a moment to grant them more respect than they deserve. I propose ten seconds of silence, for the lost minds of the Christian apologists.

Starting now.








































Ok, that's plenty. Fuck those guys.

Joy and Joy

Few things in life are universal. Outside of basic survival necessities, there is only one thing that humans universally strive for, and that is joy. We all want to experience unrelenting, pure, deep joy, a rush of orgasmic energy that runs from inside our hearts all the way to just past the reach of our fingertips. We want to experience a high to inspire us to climb to the highest peak available to us, and shout about how unbelievably wonderful every little thing is, so that everyone in the goddamn world can hear us. The desire to feel this is the one thing that separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom, in fact, you could say that this desire is the single defining quality of humanity. We seek life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

A philandering conman once formed a faith around the concept that "men are that they might have joy." Of course, he was using it to gain money, power, and women, but the idea rang true with his followers. As well it should, joy is a compelling thing, but people are capable of doing some terrible things to get or give it.

In his book, The God Delusion, Richard Dawkins made the claim that religion is the source of all war. Which is close, the problem is religion is not the disease, it is the symptom. Joy is the disease. It is that which every religion promises to its dedicated followers, happiness by the bowel-full. And because we all essentially love each other, that which impedes the perceived source of happiness is something to be hated. Even though this certainly very accurately describes religion, the various faiths do not own a monopoly on the tactics of joy warfare.

In fact, we experience it every day. It annoys us when people take a separate path from us in the pursuit of that which makes them happy. Even the small things. Admit it, when someone doesn't like your favorite movie, it disappoints you on a minuscule level. When someone says they listen to a musician you can't stand, you silently wonder if they should seek professional help. And when someone says that the scientific research of Norman Borlaug is unethical, you want to punch their fucking lights out. Is it at all surprising, then, that people are willing to kill or even be killed themselves for an ideology?

People will always find some new thing to go to war over, whether it be political ideology, racial differences, land ownership, or they just plain don't like each other. And I'll bet you think I'm going to point out the excellent two part South Park arc "Go, God, Go" here, and in fact you're right. However, I'm not going to side with it. There just isn't any way real, true scientists could get worked up enough to kill each other over any disagreement. This is because if the scientific method is adhered to, the results are indisputable. The only thing that can be considered questionable are the methods used. Yet there is a certain subtle joy associated with science. There is great pleasure to be had in understanding the atom and its properties. The forces which govern the way our little planet hurtles through space are frankly quite astounding. And Bernoulli's principle has an undeniable elegance in its simple elements that produce amazing results.

Religion, politics, and other ideologies are attractive because they make the blood run hot. They are absolute and infallible. They can be very rewarding, but they also serve to divide and isolate us. Science, however, runs cold. Its answers are less attractive because they're incomplete, and they always will be. The scientific community is the first to admit that mistakes are made. But at the heart of it, it can provide that same type of joy and meaning, perhaps even more meaningfully, and more importantly, it unites us. Science, like justice, is blind, it doesn't favor anyone or anything. It is not afraid to offend, but at the same time it doesn't go out of its way to. I really do think the world would be a better place if less people went around embracing tautologies, and instead gave logic a try. Yes, what we really need more of, is science.

The Test

You find yourself sitting in a room. You have no idea where you are, or how you got there. You are sitting in a lightweight metal chair, with one of those tiny swivel-up desks attached to it. The lights are bright, but flat, and the air is stale. You look around. The walls are a flat, patently inoffensive gray color. Slowly you come to realize you are in a classroom, and a test is being administered.

The person next to you looks up from their hasty scribbling, and notices your confusion. She directs you to the front of the classroom, where the tests are being handed out. You walk up, and find an extraordinarily long table, with hundreds of stacks of paper, laid out in a line. You pick up a packet from the first stack. Someone behind you pipes up, “no, wait, that’s the wrong one.” You are embarrassed, because you can’t even remember signing up for this class, or really anything before this point. You ask which is the right one, and it is pointed out for you.

You pick up the new packet and someone to your right snickers. “You’ve got to be kidding me, you’re actually going to take that one?” Apparently you’re having a tough time finding the one meant for you, though you still have no idea why you’re here in the first place. But you take the one you were eyeing anyway, because the first person was so polite, and this second one has done nothing but mock you, so you distrust him.

As you return to your seat your attention is captured by an apparent shouting match at the other end of the table. “You’ve got to be out of your bloody mind!” someone shouts. “This test is so much easier, why the hell would you pick that one?”

“Because this one is the correct one!” the other person shouts. A crowd has gathered around the two people, and through the uproar you can’t make out what they’re saying anymore. Soon the situation turns into an all-out brawl, with the entire group punching and kicking each other. You look around, trying to find some way to call for help, but are shocked to see nobody doing anything, only concentrating on their own tests. Finally a gunshot rings out. You seem to be the only one who notices. The crowd returns to their seats, and the only remaining evidence of any conflict are some scattered papers and a bloody corpse on the floor. Two men enter the room through a door you previously failed to notice, and carry the dead man out through it on a stretcher.

Still not believing what you have just witnessed, you figure it best to just return to your seat and finish your test so you can get out of this crazy mess. The questions are all either common sense easy, ridiculously unknowable, or just plain crazy. You return to the front and flip through some of the other tests, and though the contain different questions, they all follow this pattern.

Finally you guess your way through the entire test, and you turn it in. You return to your seat. As you look around, you realize that several others around you have turned in their sheets as well, so you begin to make small talk to pass the time while they are being graded. Some of the people you meet have been waiting for their results for a very long time. Days, weeks, years, some have even been there for years. You ask if they’ve ever witnessed anyone actually get their results back, and none of them have. You decide there’s no point in potentially waiting decades for the results of test you didn’t even know why you were taking, which would likely never even come. As you make for the door, the other students start laughing at you. “Gonna give up, eh?” “Guess you didn’t have what it takes.” “I feel so sorry for you, to come this close, it truly makes me sad.” You feel bad, so you turn around to walk back, but as you do you once again see the situation as it is. You are in a dull, horrible place, and you just can’t bear the thought of staying here. You ignore the barbs of your classmates, and run through the door, flinging it wide and rushing out.

At first you are blinded. The room was actually fairly well lit, but the clarity of the sunlight outside is staggering. As your eyes adjust, you see beauty unlike anything you’ve ever imagined. The natural world unfolds in front of you, so many colors, and such staggering detail. You just stand there appreciating everything, from the tiniest blade of grass to the tallest redwood. You think to yourself, “I could stay here forever.” Suddenly you think of the people you left inside, the ones you got to know, the ones you could have called friends. You rush in, and you tell them about all the amazing things right outside the door. You ask them to come with you, if only just to see. They tell you they can’t come, if they leave, they forfeit their right to the rewards of passing the test. You beg with, you plead with them, until they ask you to stop. You shuffle back out toward the door. As you leave, you notice that everyone seems to be regarding you with scorn. One of them says to you, “you know, if you apologize, they might let you retake the test.” You reply you have no interest in taking part in this futile activity. They reply that on some level you must, because after all, you did come back. You curse this person under your breath and leave.

At first it’s difficult to leave behind the people who you care about. You come back a few times to see if maybe they’ve changed their minds, but eventually you come to accept that they never will. You make new friends on the outside who you can truly share yourself with, but you still make sure to visit the old ones who are still trapped inside that expansive room. When you do visit, you mostly make small talk. You tell them what’s been going on in your life. But sometimes, very occasionally, you still show them pictures of the outside world. Just to give them a taste of what they’re missing and hoping they’ll still come around. You don’t ever press the point anymore though. Occasionally they still ask you to think about retaking the test, but you politely refuse, saying you’re done with that. And then you leave them in their state of suspended animation, desperately waiting for nothing, clinging to the hope that something will come of all the time and effort that they’ve put into it. And every time you see them in this state it kills you inside just a little bit. And there’s nothing you can do, except continue to live your life the best way you can.