Weekend Onesie: All Gods Are False

Weekend Onesie: 

All Gods Are False

I woke with that thought one morning; 'All gods are false.' And thought, 'well, this is going to prove to be an interesting day.' 

However, other than sending me running to my laptop to write it down, because the above image of Donald Duck yawning as he walks past the 'God Of Gab' immediately sprang to mind, it really didn't affect my day. 

Thus is the concept of 'god' in my life... most days. Today, though... I had another thought.

The notion that "Thou shalt have no other gods before ye," strikes me as rather silly.

 

Alluding that there is such a thing as a 'false' god, tends to lend credence to the idea that they're all made from the same vat of fat. I've always marveled at people's tenacity when it comes to their belief that, when choosing a religion, they 'got it right.'

How do they know?

Faith, they will reply.

Faith is nothing more than blind belief. Just because you can believe in something doesn't mean you should. I have a number of emotional scars that prove that to be the case. No, I don't need a 'god' to relieve me of my suffering. 

That's what gin is for.

I have a lot of faith in gin. I have faith in a few other things, too.

I have faith that common sense will one day return to Washington D.C. I have faith that people like Putin and the orange ogre will one day have their comeuppance. I have faith that The Supreme Court of The United States will one day snap to and realize the error of their ways. But, and call me a doubting Thomas (no, not that Thomas) if you must, but I have reason to believe none of that will be happening any time soon, or in my lifetime, for that matter. 

So much for faith.

And for those believers who think we atheists are haters, well, you could not be more wrong. We don't hate you for your beliefs. We just think you're Silly Billies to believe what you believe.

See, I believe that a large percentage of life is going to suck, whether I give ten percent of my money to a religious organization or not. So, erring on the side of common sense, I'd rather keep my money. 

To buy more gin.

And it's not just the money, honey. It's the time and energy. If I need a sense of community? I'll join a book club. If they pick a book I don't particularly care for? I just won't go that month.

Sometimes I wonder if atheists are more involved with the dissection of religious dogma than the average church goer. Oh, I know those bible groups meet up all the time, but I view those gatherings as a sort of book club where everyone sits around, mentally masturbating and salivating as they try to one-up each other on just how 'boned' up they are when it comes to that particular book.  

If I belong to a book club, I want it to be one where we have a different book, on a different topic, every month. No need getting obsessed with words someone - very human - wrote. Particularly if that writer is a straight man with a bug up his ass. 

Straight men tend to think with their 'little brain' (some littler than others.)

I'm sure you've all heard about 'small town minds.' Yeah, well, where I grew up, the smaller the mind, the smaller the penis. Oh, don't take my word for it. You can do your own research. Just move to someplace like Iowa Falls for a year. Spend enough time on your knees and... you'll see what I mean. 

I enjoy doing my own research. 

And I did. For years and years, after having spent my first eighteen years as a Catholic, I began to look around and check out some of these other 'gods.' It took years. I was a Methodist, a pagan, an old age spiritualist, a new age spiritualist, a prosperity theologist. I researched the Torah and the Qur'an. I went to therapists. I read up on all the philosophers. Then I came back to Catholicism, because I thought maybe 'god' could save my Dad's Alzheimer-ravaged mind. 

And I tried for three years. Seemed like thirty. Felt like forty.   

Yes, through it all, I listened a lot and did my own homework. 

And watched others. Yes...

Observation is a great teacher.

See, that's the thing about most atheists. We're a pretty self-reliant bunch. Oh, sure, we grapple with the same emotional turmoil the average religious sort deals with, but we deal with it using common sense and well-being practices, such as exercise, volunteering, reading...  and little helpers like THC and gin martinis. 

All in moderation. We wouldn't want to get fanatical. 

You've all taught us what that can lead to.

I have to send a shout out to my friend, Rick, over at SickoRicko'sCrap. 

Once a week, he preaches the good word, posting all sorts of memes exploring the fallibility of religions and poking holes in the fabric of religious life.  

I appreciate it. 

Helps keep me on the 'right' path.

We wouldn't want any of that magical thinking sneaking its way back in.

And so, to close today's sermon, we recall the words of our blessed sister, the late Anne Marie In Philly from the Church of the Blogosphere (or was it the Church of the Poisoned Mind?), as we all say...

Gay-men!

Atheists Don't Have No Songs - Steve Martin 

& The Steep Canyon Rangers

Weekend Onesie: Happy (?) Easter

Weekend Onesie

Happy (?) Easter

This photo perfectly captures the diametrical nature of Easter.

It's a strange marriage, an uneasy alliance not unlike the one for the Xmas season.

The myth of the Easter Bunny juxtaposed atop the myth of Jesus Christ's death and resurrection.

That's a lot to unpack.

First the fun stuff...

The Easter Bunny

Wikipedia
Originating among German Lutherans, the 'Easter Hare' originally played the role of a judge, evaluating whether children were good or disobedient in behavior at the start of the season of Eastertide, similar to the naughty or nice list made by Santa Claus. As part of the legend, the creature carries colored eggs in its basket, as well as candy, and sometimes toys, to the homes of children. As such, the Easter Bunny again shows similarities to Santa (or the Christkind) and Christmas by bringing gifts to children on the night before a holiday. 

Easter Eggs

Wikipedia
Eggs have been used as fertility symbols since antiquity. They became a symbol in Christianity associated with rebirth as early as the 1st century AD, via the iconography of the Phoenix egg, and became associated with Easter in medieval Europe, when eating them was prohibited during the fast of Lent. A common practice in England at that time was for children to go door-to-door begging for eggs on the Saturday before Lent began. People handed out eggs as special treats for children prior to their fast. Later, German Protestants retained the custom of eating colored eggs for Easter, though they did not continue the tradition of fasting.

And then, that other myth...

Well, to be honest? I've lost any and all passion for telling that story.

Look, if you need to believe in such things in order to cope? You do you.

For me? It confused and veiled real issues. All that energy? Time? Money? To feel worse about yourself? The guilt. The drama. 

I think people get swept up in the pageantry of it all, so excited to take part and perform. 

No, thanks. I'll take life straight up, as is, on my own. 

That kind of community? I believe it's called a cult.

That said, I've come to the conclusion that the religious fairytale is not all that different, or any more relevant, than the Easter Bunny.

When I look back at it... it seems a strange thing to expose children to. Talk about a bunch of mixed messages. The stations of the cross plays out like some public BDSM fantasy reenacted in visceral ritualistic detail. Then there's that basket of sugar to be inhaled accompanied by lip service to an ancient fertility rite, culminating in the celebration where we witness the reanimation of the dead. 

And don't get me started on the whole 'eat my body, drink my blood' thing.   

It plays with your head. Especially as a kid.

And ties you in knots.

On this side of it? I see how messed up the whole belief in a magical being - be it a higher power or the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus - is, in the end.

Think of the unrealistic expectations the promise such a being creates in the hearts and minds of people - and children, especially? Being born into a religious institution is a little like slowly poisoning one's brain. 

"They know not what they do." No, shit sherlock! They're clueless; lambs to the slaughter. That's not guidance. That's being force fed some seriously messed up propaganda.

Children are literally given no time to define themselves or the world on their own before being exposed to this crap. I certainly wasn't. I was told to blindly believe. To have faith. 

"And what a bitter disappointment that turned out to be."

I don't blame my mother. Or her mother, for that matter. They were both indoctrinated from day one. Learned to fear and regret, be subservient, accept their lot in life and hate themselves for it. The Catholic Church is built on the backs of self-loathing women and the terrorized children they raise.

Religion tells us... if you do this, if you behave in this manner, if you pray hard enough... then you will get what you want. But it doesn't work that way at all. 

Life is unfair. And being told otherwise is cruel. There is supposed to be an advantage to being virtuous. But if that's true, then why do all the assholes have all the money and enjoy the best things in life?

Fact is, life is full of paradoxes. And our time and energy would be much better spent learning to cope with that. The world is currently inundated with hypocrisies, contradictions, paradoxes - and thoughts and prayers? Ain't gonna cut it.

We see with our eyes, hear with our ears, and work our minds to reach an understanding.  We believe we 'know' something, but then are confronted with an incident or occurrence which flies in the face of it or  an alternative view or told that the opposite is true based on some creative bits of illogic. 

Is that what 'faith' is all about?

Can something be both logical and illogical and exist in the same space, residing comfortably side by side? 

Isn't that what being 'human' is all about?

As human beings go, we're not very adept when it comes to accepting grey areas. We want things defined. It is 'this' or... it is 'this.' Ambiguity frightens us. So we invent finite answers to quell our fears. To make sense of the senseless. 

And when it becomes too much... then we start seeking 'answers' outside of ourselves. We want to hand the irreconcilable aspects of life and living over to someone else. 

I think that's how deities are born. I think that need is the basis for theological doctrine.  

And, let's put aside, for now, all the charlatans and shysters who take advantage of this situation by exploiting people's weakness and need for certainty, enriching themselves in the process. 

It's not that religion, in it's purest form, is evil. It's intentions are good. It's meant to reassure. "Oh, yes, when you die you go to heaven and live forever. Oh, yes, you'll see your dead husband again. Oh, yes, if you do as we say, behave as we ask, live as we tell you, then you will be rewarded  - maybe not in the way you hoped, but then 'God' works in mysterious ways."  

What the hell is that supposed to mean? 

Is that a built-in escape clause?

In other words; be prepared to be disappointed, now cough up 10% of your income, these gold robes don't come cheap. 

No, the show is not free, folks. 

In the end, everybody pays for a ticket, one way or another.

But, hey... grab a seat!

Happy (?) Easter.

Hang on folks.

This pastel nightmare is almost over.

Well, until  we revisit it again, next year.

- uptonking from Wonderland Burlesque

Here Comes Peter Cottontail - Danny Kaye

Weekend Onesie: The Devil Made Me Do It

Weekend Onesie: The Devil Made Me Do It

I always chuckle when I hear some religious zealot complain about Halloween. 

Modern Halloween has about as much to do with the devil as Xmas has to do with some fable about a magic boy being born in a stable. 

In reality? It's all about the costuming. 

No. I don't mean Halloween. 

Religion: it's all about the costuming. 

The Catholic church is the most egregious culprit. So theatrical, that lot. I spent three and half years cantoring for a pious, bitchy queen who made his own robes. It took me a year to catch on... but yes, for him? It was all about the show, and the show was all about him and whatever fabu muumuu he happened to whip on his little Singer sewing machine that week. Once he had those blue hairs in those pews, I think he felt he had to give them something in exchange for their pension money. 

But they're not the only religion guilty. 

When it comes to prosperity churches its all about designer clothes and what the pastor is driving, because - and the pastors tell their congregation this straight up - the lives of the flock are only going to be as fabulous as the Armani suit the Shephard is wearing. And if you think he and his wife are going to be driving around in his and her Toyota Corolla's, you got another thing coming! So tithe, tithe, tithe. You got a spare kidney? Sell it and give the money to 'god.'

Now, you can dress it up anyway you like, but religion pretty much boils down to just a couple of things: on one side of the equation, you have control and greed. On the other? Fear and magical thinking. For we live in a world of 'you can't get something for nothing' and when it comes to proving your devotion? It better be backed up by a check with multiple digits.

And while there are a few exceptions to the rule? Most religious practitioners - on both sides of the equation - are merely disguising their true motives. At the root of hypocrisy? You'll find at least a little bit of that 'old-fashioned' religion.

And so, every Sunday, all those practitioners show up, masks in place; a bit of theatre where the audience has just as big a role as the performers on stage. Those on the altar? Those leading the choir? Child, they are working! They have to inspire. They have to hoodwink. They have to scare, inflate, shame, demean, divide and conquer. But mostly? They have to separate the flock from a percentage of their hard earned wallet lettuce. 

Yes. All 'god's' children gots to be paid, son!

In a way, it's no different than the little masked beggars who show up on your door step on October 31st, decked out in their finest costumes, palms up, begging for some sugary sustenance.

Trick or treat?

Oh, honey, when it comes to religion? It is all trick.

And the devil ain't got nothin' to do with any of it.

--- ---

On this, the eve of Halloween,

I want you all to have a devilish good time.

Enjoy!

-uptonking from Wonderland Burlesque!

Dress You Up - Madonna

Embracing Ambiguity

Embracing Ambiguity

I, like a lot of people, struggle with ambiguity.  I want concise answers, clear pathways, defined execution.  Timelines are important to me and while I am comfortable with allowing leeway, I have a need to know what someone means when they tell me “soon”. 

I’m not inflexible, but I remain uncomfortable with shadows.  Let’s get in there and shed some light on the situation.  Grey areas worry me.  Grey areas are cause for concern.

Grey areas really bother the fuck out of me.

Take my latest woe:

Millie, my six-year old, blind, tea cup Chihuahua began losing her balance a month ago; walking sideways and in circles, with her head tilted to one side.  She had some dark matter in the base of one of her ears, so she was taken to the vet immediately.   

The first vet we saw put her on antibiotics, saying we should see improvement in a week.  A week passed: no improvement.  Back to the vets we went.  The second vet who saw her (we go to a clinic with two vets, both of whom treat my dogs) thought it was neurological in nature, possibly a brain tumor – one that, in Millie’s case, would be inoperable.  The vet put her on a stronger antibiotic and told us to prepare for things to get worse. 

Three weeks later, Millie is still the same.  Her balance is very bad – to the point where she doesn’t walk much – but she still has a terrific appetite, is able to do her business in the backyard, and is excited and happy when I get home.  On bad days, she falls down. 

We keep her as comfortable as possible and provide the best care we are able to.

She’s been back to the vet since and the two vets remain divided as to what is going on.  The one who thinks it is an ear infection tells us that she has vestibular syndrome, which takes dogs that are blind a long time to get over.  The other still sees signs of a neurological disorder.

And so we wait.  Not knowing.  Watching for signs. 

My ex over-reacts constantly, while I remain the voice of calm – not reason – but calm.  Because the truth is:  I don’t know anything either.  I’m merely trying to see the best.  I figure, why not hope?  Hope feels better than despair. 

Needless to say, the part of me that wants clear answers has been very upset lately.

This is where God used to come in real handy.  He was great for helping to deal with ambiguity.  Scared?  Pray.  Sure, your prayers might not get answered the way you hope, but in the meantime… at least you feel as if you’re doing something about the thing over which you have no control. 

Which is the nature of religion – it helps deal with the ambiguities of life by providing those simple, black and white answers we crave, in a group setting, no less. 

But God doesn’t work for me anymore, not even in theory or as a crutch. 

This week, I was at mass and suddenly I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.

Because: I do not believe.

I don’t believe in the church or anything it teaches.  All I see are coping mechanisms and measures of manipulation and control. In light of that, I’ve stopped reciting the words.  Now, I simply go to mass in order to get communion for my mother and bed-ridden father.  I do this because my mother still believes and it is important to her.  It’s one of the things I can do to ease the burden of caring for my father.

But I don’t do it for me.

Suddenly coming to the realization that I needn’t recite any of the prayers or responses reminded me of a time three years earlier when I came to the realization that my faith was collapsing and that I needed to step down from cantoring.  Singing is a very magical, spiritual thing for me and… my heart was no longer in it. 

Which brings me to where I stand now: out here, on my own.

Dealing with the ambiguities of life can be disheartening, or… it can be character defining.  It’s a scary place to be, for sure, and so new to me I still don’t have my feet firmly beneath me.

Yet, I have hope.  Because the alternative is to despair and I refuse to give into that. I’ve witnessed its pitfalls first hand.  That road is not for me.

The uncertainties that come with independent thinking are difficult to navigate.  It’s hard to accept that life is rather random and there are limits to our influence and control.  We read things in the paper or hear things on the news illustrating the inhumanity that plays out on this planet on a daily basis and must balance our anguish with the knowledge that many simply don’t have the tools to make good decisions or behave in an appropriate manner.

It is never appropriate to beat your girlfriend with a puppy until the puppy defecates and dies.

It is never appropriate to drown a two-week old puppy in a restroom toilet because you can’t take the animal on the plane and don’t wish to miss your flight.

It is never appropriate to repeatedly videotape yourself torturing your girlfriend’s dog and then continue filming as you shoot the dog in the head.

Yet these things (And they all happened in the past three weeks Look them up!) happen on a daily basis and our minds must cope with the horror.

And that’s why I have lost faith. 

That’s why I can’t entertain the idea of a God – any God.

I would love to say that I will put my trust in science instead, but… as in Millie’s case, science does not have all the answers either.

No one does.

And that’s why, if we wish to live life to the fullest, we must embrace the prickly reality of ambiguity.  Even when living through it breaks your heart.

Still, for Millie, I hope for the best.

It's all I can do.

Wonderland Burlesque's Turdscooter of the Week: Rick Wiles

Wonderland Burlesque's 

Turdscooter of the Week

Rick Wiles

“Who you gonna call?”

That is the burning question this week, according to one Rick Wiles.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, as long as there are ‘men of god’ and self-righteous conservatives, so shall there be a “Turdscooter of the Week”.  And what would right-wing nut jobs do if it were not for the bilious pockets of shelter afforded them by American radio?

This week’s winner?  

Trunews radio host Rick Wiles, who seems to believe that when old dubba-u, dubba-u three breaks out, God won’t be saving the neck of America like he did last time during dubba-u dubba-u two.

Who knows, maybe it’s because God doesn’t care for sequels of a sequel? 

But, no, Mr. Wiles insists it’s because of the gays.  In his way of thinking, granting gays equal rights and allowing them to marry has doomed this country.

But, never fear… there’s hope, according to Wiles and his vision of this inevitable future:

“Worse case scenario is the submarines come up on the west coast and the east coast and just obliterate us while we sleep at night.”

Wait.  Is that a ‘worse’ case or a ‘best’?  Hmmm.  Apples, oranges?

Whatever the case, Wiles is certain that those pesky ruskies will soon be aiming their nuclear warheads at our golden shores (you know, as soon as the ruble stabilizes and, oh, I don’t know, Sony Pictures’ ‘The Interview’ wins an Oscar for best motion picture).

“We are on the edge of World War III,” claims Wiles. “And this time the United States of America does not have divine protection because we've become a nation of homosexuals and atheists and lesbians and God-haters.”

Did I forget to mention the atheists, lesbians and God-haters? 

Well, at least the gays are in good company. 

Mr. Wiles rants on:

“What are you going to do America?  If he (God) left and the Russian nukes show up? If the Russian submarines show up and you find out God left? Who you gonna call on, all you atheists? All you homosexuals?  All you God-haters?  Is your ‘gay god’ going to come and save you?”

Who you gonna call, indeed!

Well, not “gay god”.  That’s for sure. 

He still can't throw a baseball worth shit.

But Gay Jesus, on the other hand...

Nietzsche Was Right

Friedrich Nietzsche was right.

Growing up, going to church was simply something one did, like breathing and pooping.  You didn’t think to question it; you just did it because everyone you knew did.  The ‘why’ of it all was never questioned.

Of course, when I became an adolescent, I did begin to question.  Those mandatory Wednesday night catechism classes became opportunities to torture all those poor believers who volunteered to teach.  It was at that time that I began to fall in love with and perfect playing the devil’s advocate. As inarticulate as I was, debate became my ‘thing’.  That ‘deer in the headlights’ look on the teachers’ faces fueled my love of pointed banter.

And then, once away at college, church became an afterthought.  Theatre became my new religion.  I didn’t have time for anything else. 

After that, a variety of religions, religious expressions, thoughts of mind, and philosophies became my norm.  I tried them on like hats.  I was impressionable, to say the least.  My naiveté would lead me down one dead end after another.  The journey was as entertaining as it was disheartening.

Five years ago I returned to Catholicism and began to attend church regularly, singing in the choir and serving as cantor.  I did so, out of a need to please my mother.  She and my father had recently moved into my neighborhood at my insistence.  My father, as you may know, has Alzheimer’s, and as his illness has progressed it had become more difficult for my mother to manage.  The house across the street from me came up for sale. My business partners and I purchased it, renovated it, and moved them in.  

In order for my mother to acclimate, I took her around to various churches.  She chose one and it became part of my routine to accompany her.  It went well for the first three years.  I got swept up in the music and the sense of community the church provided. 

Unfortunately, I also became all too aware of the church’s attempts to prevent gay marriage from coming to Minnesota, as well as the on-going sexual scandals involving children, adolescents, and young adults.  Oddly troubling, too, was my discovery that a good percentage of the active clergy are gay – troubling, only in the sense that these men must live their lives in a way that supports the very thing that condemns them for who they are. 

Since returning to the fold, I’ve listened to countless sermons that plead for accepting others as they are, sermons delivered in a kind of code, skirting around the political reality that is the Catholic Church.  But until the church as a whole openly embraces gay people, I’m afraid those words, while truly meant by the individuals speaking, will continue to ring rather hollow and false.

Two years ago, during the Easter season, I began to wrestle with my conflicting thoughts and feelings.  I quit the choir and cantoring that Easter morning, though I continued to attend mass regularly until about three months ago.  By that time I couldn’t rationalize attending anymore.  Not that I didn’t feel welcome, I always did.  No, it was because I could not reconcile the life I was being told to lead and the world I live in.  When I looked at the world around me and the evil things men and women do in the name of God, the whole concept of God became something that made no sense. 

Yes, people like Michele Bachmann and Archbishop Nienstedt had robbed me of my ability to believe.  Their irrational world views and the fact that the world had given them and their ilk a means of spreading their fears, hatred, and harmful rhetoric defied common decency and common sense.  The fact that we live in a world where people actively reiterate garbage theology and support political platforms that work against their own self-interest appalls and amazes me - to say nothing of the everyday violence that is allowed to go unchecked; violence committed through some delusional sense of superiority, violence committed against one another, animals, and our planet - to say nothing of disease, illness, deformity, cruelty, homicide, genocide, hypocrisy, segregation, ignorance and greed.

And so, if one is to remain logical and place events and people within some type of context, one can come to but one conclusion: there is no God.

God is a construct upon which we place our hopes and desires.  God is a wishing well.  God is a comfort for mind and body.  God is a means of controlling ourselves and others.

But we made him up. 

This planet is really populated with nothing more than a bunch of animals trying to gain advantage over one another by any means possible.

It has left me heartsick.

And, of course, when my mother asks why I’m not going to church anymore, I can’t tell her any of that.   Her concept of God is all she has.  It’s the pillar of her whole life.  It would be cruel on my part to start ripping away at the fabric that is her life.

So, when she asks… I say nothing.

I’ll start believing in God when the likes of Michele Bachmann and Archbishop Nienstedt do the same.