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: 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.