Blonde Nonbeliever

Bible Nursery Rhymes

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Sat, 18 Feb 2012 05:52:00 +0000

You know how we atheists often refer to the stories in the Bible as old fairytales and myths? I thought that perhaps translating some of them into the format of nursery rhymes might be fun. Feel free to read these to your children, but be warned, it is the Bible. I don’t take responsibility for the nightmares that may result.

Adam and Eve, went to the tree, against the word of Lord God,

Eve ate the fruit, Adam followed suit,

We were doomed because of one broad.

Noah Noah built a big ship, Noah Noah took a sea trip,

With all of God’s things, with scales, fur, and wings,

The manure was up to your hip.

Little Elisha traveled to Bethel,

Kids laughed at his shiny bald head,

God felt it fair

To send two she-bear,

Then forty-two children were dead.

Hey there, David, have you any foreskins?

Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full!

Some for the Lord, some for the father,

And some as a dowry to marry your daughter.

Simple Jesus saw a treesus on the way to Bethany,

Said the Jesus to the treesus, "Now thee sprout a figgy."

Said the treesus to the Jesus, “…”

So Jesus cursed it to death.

Old father Onan, with his bro’s woman,

To impregnate her, that was God’s whim,

After some bonin’, along with some moanin’

He pulled out so God killed him.

A traveler and his girl, were traveling the world,

And sought lodging and a soft bed,

A crowd wants to rape the male guest,

And when the host is forcefully pressed,

He offers his young virgin daughter instead.

That’s simply won’t do, the concubine’s there, too,

The hoard tortures and rapes her ‘til dead.

When the brutality ceases, she is hacked into pieces,

And no tears for the woman were shed.

Three blind lepers, three blind lepers,

See how they sin, see how they sin,

You cannot enter the temple today,

You’re unclean and so you must stay far away,

But Jesus can regrow your nose if you pray,

Three blind lepers.

Old man Lot was so overwrought after losing his wife to the salt,

But his daughters were fine, and they fed him some wine,

So the incest wasn’t his fault.

Sweet dreams, kids!

Teh Bestest Bibel on da Urf

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 19:17:00 +0000

As if you believed there aren’t people out there with enough awesomeness and spare time to do this?

The LOL Cat Bible Translation Project exists.

An i has founded teh bestest ting evar. Srsly.

Genesis I (Boreded Ceiling Cat makinkgz Urf n stuffs)

1 Oh hai. In teh beginnin Ceiling Cat maded teh skiez An da Urfs, but he did not eated dem.

2 Da Urfs no had shapez An haded dark face, An Ceiling Cat rode invisible bike over teh waterz.

3 At start, no has lyte. An Ceiling Cat sayz, i can haz lite? An lite wuz.4 An Ceiling Cat sawed teh lite, to seez stuffs, An splitted teh lite from dark but taht wuz ok cuz kittehs can see in teh dark An not tripz over nethin.5 An Ceiling Cat sayed light Day An dark no Day. It were FURST!!!1

6 An Ceiling Cat sayed, im in ur waterz makin a ceiling. But he no yet make a ur. An he maded a hole in teh Ceiling.7 An Ceiling Cat doed teh skiez with waterz down An waterz up. It happen.8 An Ceiling Cat sayed, i can has teh firmmint wich iz funny bibel naim 4 ceiling, so wuz teh twoth day.

9 An Ceiling Cat gotted all teh waterz in ur base, An Ceiling Cat hadz dry placez cuz kittehs DO NOT WANT get wet.10 An Ceiling Cat called no waterz urth and waters oshun. Iz good.

11 An Ceiling Cat sayed, DO WANT grass! so tehr wuz seedz An stufs, An fruitzors An vegbatels. An a Corm. It happen.12An Ceiling Cat sawed that weedz ish good, so, letz there be weedz.13 An so teh threeth day jazzhands.

14 An Ceiling Cat sayed, i can has lightz in the skiez for splittin day An no day.15 It happen, lights everwear, like christmass, srsly.16 An Ceiling Cat doeth two grate lightz, teh most big for day, teh other for no day.17 An Ceiling Cat screw tehm on skiez, with big nails An stuff, to lite teh Urfs.18 An tehy rulez day An night. Ceiling Cat sawed. Iz good.19 An so teh furth day w00t.

20 An Ceiling Cat sayed, waterz bring me phishes, An burds, so kittehs can eat dem. But Ceiling Cat no eated dem.21 An Ceiling Cat maed big fishies An see monstrs, which wuz like big cows, except they no mood, An other stuffs dat mooves, An Ceiling Cat sawed iz good.22 An Ceiling Cat sed O hai, make bebehs kthx. An dont worry i wont watch u secksy, i not that kynd uf kitteh.23 An so teh...fith day. Ceiling Cat taek a wile 2 cawnt.

24 An Ceiling Cat sayed, i can has MOAR living stuff, mooes, An creepie tings, An otehr aminals. It happen so tehre.25 An Ceiling Cat doed moar living stuff, mooes, An creepies, An otehr animuls, An did not eated tehm.

26 An Ceiling Cat sayed, letz us do peeps like uz, becuz we ish teh qte, An let min p0wnz0r becuz tehy has can openers.

27 So Ceiling Cat createded teh peeps taht waz like him, can has can openers he maed tehm, min An womin wuz maeded, but he did not eated tehm.

28 An Ceiling Cat sed them O hai maek bebehs kthx, An p0wn teh waterz, no waterz An teh firmmint, An evry stufs.

29 An Ceiling Cat sayed, Beholdt, the Urfs, I has it, An I has not eated it.30 For evry createded stufs tehre are the fuudz, to the burdies, teh creepiez, An teh mooes, so tehre. It happen. Iz good.

31 An Ceiling Cat sayed, Beholdt, teh good enouf for releaze as version 0.8a. kthxbai.

A Matter of Choice

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Tue, 07 Feb 2012 22:39:00 +0000

If you’re like me, you have probably heard that people think you have actively chosen to disbelieve in God.

They insinuate that it’s just trendy right now. Like one day, you said, “Yes, I actually want to be the least trusted demographic in America. It’ll be cool.”

They propose that a belief in a higher power is the natural state of things, that babies are born believing, that it is as elemental as breathing. Their solution for your fall from grace is to simply submit to the balance of the universe, turn back to God, and “let” yourself believe in their particular recommended religion. Sounds easy, right?

Obviously, to that, any halfway respectable, sarcastic atheist would immediately challenge, “Please, for the sake of your argument, show me and choose to believe that dragons, griffons, and satyrs exist. Plenty of books throughout history, including the Bible, include accounts of these creatures!”

Enter the cognitive dissonance, and most of the time, the conversation will abruptly end with, “Oh, now you’re just being silly.”

Well, here is the story of the time I chose to believe in God. Maybe it will help you understand that, for most of us, being an atheist was never a choice. It, in fact, was the natural state of things.

Unlike many of you, I am not an escapee from a traumatic religious upbringing. My family never shoved it down my throat, but I was actively involved in church. I never believed in the supernatural elements of it, though. Even in the earliest years, I was suspicious of the little gifts the youth preacher would hand out to all the children if we obediently listened to his stories about Jesus. I asked my mother why we got presents just for paying attention to stories from the Bible. Poor mom. I was five years old, and already realizing that perhaps there was an agenda afoot.

Anyway, I enjoyed parts of going to church. The children’s choir was fun. Vacation bible summer camp was great! Wednesday night spaghetti dinners were the bomb. Unlimited garlic bread? Hell yeah! Mostly, church was the time I got to see my best friend who lived across town. We would sneak out the back, crawling low behind the pews, to go practice making friendship bracelets and giggle over River Phoenix pictures in our Teen Beat magazines.

Oh my, the irony of seeing Kirk Cameron here is flipping my shit!

Anyway, you see what I’m getting at? Even in the most reverent, ritualized, honored moments, such as confirmation or communion, I was just going through the ropes because that’s what I had to do to hang out with my friends.

And that, honestly, is what church really is to many, many Americans. A social scene. What is expected of us in our communities. I’m sure you are familiar with the irrational feelings of guilt and shame when a smiling busy-body would approach you after church and say, “We haven’t seen you in a while. Where have you been? We’d love to see more of you at church, ya hear?” Fuck you, Phyllis, I was hungover last Sunday!

Even as a child, I always hoped no one would realize that when I bowed my head to pray, I felt like I was just talking to myself and making selfish wishes in my head.

So one day, all us kids went off to a church weekend retreat. There was singing of Cumbaya all around. There were hand jobs under jackets during movies, drinking, and recreational drug use all around, too. Those religious kids. Don’t let ‘em fool you, parents!

On the last day, something happened. All of a sudden, the camp counselors came in carrying decorated bags, one for each of us. As we looked around, perplexed, while the counselors sung Jesus hymns, we saw that in those bags were hundreds of sentiments of love, cards, photographs, letters, small gifts, from every single person in our lives.

I saw a boy collapse crying after he read an apology from his abusive father. I saw a girl burst into tears when she read a loving plea for a truce from a sister with whom she fought constantly. I received a long, carefully written letter from the teacher who first took me under her wing when I was only three years old, who has followed me to this day with love and guidance. They were all there. Family, community leaders, long-lost friends, teachers. Somehow over the preceding months, our families had scoured our pasts to seek these words of encouragement and uplifting affection. And here it all was, poured out of colored sacks in our laps. It was one of the most moving moments of my adolescence.

The tears and emotion in the room were thick. Not one of us kids, just before sarcastic teenagers, now blubbering children, was unaffected. It was an intense group experience.

And just like speaking in tongues, just like witnessing a faith healing, just like when a virgin Mary statue cries real tears, our emotions had rendered us ready and willing.

We were instructed to leave the camper’s lounge and go out onto the campgrounds to find God’s love and thank Him for all the joy that we had just witnessed in our lives. We were forbidden to talk to anyone until the church bell rang, an hour later. The kids spread out, sniffling and red-eyed, to find their own solitary spot under a tree, on a fallen log, in a lone canoe in the middle of the lake, or huddled up in the fetal position like when your sparkly vampire boyfriend left you, to find God.

I remember my first thoughts were that finally today I might actually believe, and wouldn’t that be great? I would finally fit in with my church friends!

I chose a pine tree and sat under it. I listened to the birds, watched the clouds, and realized just how long one hour is when you are sitting under a tree and you are fourteen years old. I chose, right then, finally, to feel God. I willed it.

When my parents came to pick me up from camp that evening, among the goodbyes, hugs, and wishes of “Go with God,” I think, for the first time, I believed.

It was a great feeling! It was like a high. I kept replaying the emotional scene, re-reading those letters from all my friends and loved ones, pouring over the memories of how special all those words made me feel. I remember spreading those cards and presents out all over my bed the next week, and marveling at how many people loved me. I really was special, and it must be because of God!

I chose to trust what I had heard, that it was all because of God, even though something inside of me was trying to poke its head in and tell me, “Yes, you are special. You are loved. But you knew that already. And it doesn’t take a belief in Jesus for you to understand that you are a good person who will never be alone in this world.”

One week later, the feeling was gone.

I still treasured that experience, but not for the reasons they told me to. Not because there was something higher than myself and the amazing people who came to my side to make that day happen. In fact, I realized that, whatever the answers to the mysteries of life, whether there is a God or not, no one knows, it is how you live your life, what mark you leave on others, that counts.

Do you think you could find enough people in this world to write enough words of love and encouragement to fill a large canvas bag for you?

“The world is my country, all mankind are my brethren, and to do good is my religion.” — Thomas Paine

Biblical Thinking

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 22:27:00 +0000

When someone bases their notion of morality on a very old book-that many devoted subscribers have admittedly never read in entirety-and that can easily be interpreted and twisted to serve that person's own agenda-you sometimes get what I like to call Biblical Thinking.

You know the kind of logic I’m talking about. It might go a little like this.

I believe all life is a blessing from God. First and foremost.

Yes, I am fiercely pro-life. An unborn child is an innocent, and should be protected at all costs from murder. It is not our place to interfere with the mystical workings of the Lord. Abortion is against the natural order of things, sought by selfish, loose women so they can live in sin without any hindsight about their evil ways or care for future consequences. The unborn embryo is what is most important, and because God saw fit to bring this life into the universe, we must protect it and do God’s will. Thou shalt not kill.

Except…

It’s okay to kill an abortion doctor. Of course I wouldn’t do that, Lord no, but, I mean, think of all the babies’ lives that would be spared.

I’m also staunchly supportive of the death penalty. If you commit a crime, you can expect to be justly tried and sentenced by your blood-thirsty peers. It isn’t about revenge, no, these people are just so tainted by evil, and they must pay for their crimes. It is righteous justice and a victory against the devil. I don’t even want to hear about the countless people who have been exonerated by DNA evidence. If it is God’s will, they would be vindicated. If they are executed, then it was obviously meant to be. God’s plan is mysterious.

I believe that war is justified because it wasn’t us who came on American soil and committed terrorist acts. God is on our side, because we are a Christian nation. I understand that innocent people are often killed when civilian areas are unintentionally attacked over there, but that’s unavoidable. They shouldn’t have chosen that violent, wrong religion of Islam, anyway. Hopefully they repented to Jesus with their last, blood-choked gasps before they died, so that they may know the splendor of His everlasting love.

No, I don’t give much thought to animals. Sure, they are living creatures, but they have no souls, after all, and we are the only ones made in God’s image. They are beasts, simply put on Earth to serve our needs. I tie my dogs to a tree in the backyard and throw them scraps. They like it. I also love hunting with my dogs, because it makes my penis feel not so small, and hell, it’s harmless fun, right? It’s the natural order of things. Without hunting, those whitetail deer would become overpopulated and start swarming in our streets. I’m doing my civic duty by stalking down peaceful woodland creatures, sending a bullet through their brains, and hanging their stuffed heads on the wall in my den.

I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I have also been known to hit my wife. I can’t help it, though. She just pushes and pushes, and I am a man, after all. God made me in His image, and yes, I strive to be as perfect as Him every day, I honestly do, but sometimes Brandy Sue just makes me so mad with her, “Don’t leave your huntin’ boots in the bed,” and “Please try to stop pissin’ on the floor in the corner?” What does she expect? I’m not perfect after all. I mean, who could hold their piss after drinking a whole suitcase of Bud Light? It’s clear that the Bible says that a woman should know her place, and the kids, too. I’m just upholding the teachings of the scripture.

Speaking of that, I found out that a guy I work with is a homosexual. I made it very obvious that he was to stay away from me, because his orientation is wrong, and it says so right there in the Bible. I let him know that his ways are an abomination and against the teachings of the Lord, and to push my point home, my buddies and I cornered him in the employee lounge and roughed him up a bit. Hopefully that will convince him that his choice to be gay is in error. I left him a copy of the Bible in his work locker, so that perhaps he will someday come to realize that Jesus would not approve of his aberrant lifestyle.

The environment? Hah, I couldn’t care less about all that hippy shit like recycling and energy conservation. Frankly, it’s my God-given right to drive a gas-guzzling pick-up truck, throw my trash in my backyard, and burn tires in a fire pit. Don’t you try to tell me I can’t do that, I’m an American. The Earth has been provided as a resource, for humanity, by God. We should use it as we see fit. None of this global warming shit for me. Personally, I know that last winter was the coldest we’ve had in fifty years, so don’t feed me that environmental liberal agenda. God will always provide for his children.

It is another God-given right to bear arms. I follow the teachings of Jesus, and sure, sure, he was all about peace and love, but you try to step one foot in my house or take my stuff, and I’ll shoot you dead before you can slap a sow in heat. Don’t tread on me, as Jesus was wont to say.

Yep, I think you can see that I am a righteous man. I follow the Bible and use it in my daily life to improve the world around me. I work hard, I have strong convictions, and I love my guns, my country, and my Lord. I know if I continue to live my life by the word of the Bible, I will be saved and spend eternity in the everlasting light of Jesus, my Savior. And, hell, if I fuck up every once in a while, like when I accidentally hit that guy on the side of the road with my truck when I was drunk one night, I know that all I have to do is let Jesus into my heart, and all my sins are forgiven.

God bless America. I am pro-gun, pro-war, and pro-death penalty. I believe women, children, animals, other races, other religions, and homosexual people are below me. I wouldn’t hesitate to shoot you dead if you try to trample on my God-given freedoms.

But I am pro-life.

The Power of Words

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 01:27:00 +0000

You know how there are some edgy words out there that people use, but they have been masked in some way because of the stigma associated with them? It doesn’t really make sense. I mean, when I type “the f word,” don’t you immediately know exactly what word I mean? You see it in your head, you think to yourself, “Oh, she just meant to say ‘fuck.’ I get it.” I’m still saying “fuck” in code, and this somehow makes it less offensive than if I just came out and said, “fuck?” Yes! Somehow!

Fuck. That’s fun! Fuck fuck fuck!

Anyway, we give words power. The words themselves are just air shaped by our oral cavities. A grunt has just as much subjective meaning as the word fuck. In fact, grunting often accompanies the act of fuck. But I digress.

Another word that has been given unnecessary power and negativity is “atheist.” My baby boomer father, as liberal and intelligent as he may be, is uncomfortable with the word, “atheist.” He has repeatedly implored me to say, “freethinker,” “nonbeliever,” or some other happy, fluffy word for atheist that means the exact same thing.

“Why?” I finally asked him, and he thought for a minute. Then he told me something slightly shocking but also illuminating. He said, "Well, in my generation, the word atheist meant ‘bad person.’”

He continued, “Everyone in my neighborhood went to church. We all did. Every single one of us. We all believed in God.”

I snickered at this point, and offered, “Well, if atheism was equated with being a “bad person,” then of course people said they believed in God. But I guarantee some of them secretly didn’t.”

He disagreed, “No, I think we all did. It just wasn’t questioned.”

It just wasn’t questioned? That’s kind of haunting, isn’t it? What kind of good and moral force in the world cannot be questioned? Hello, is Hitler there?

Oh, look, I just pulled a Glenn Beck!

Anyway, the conversation ended with me understanding a little more about my dad. However, I refuse to sugar-coat things. I am an Agnostic Atheist. Read it. Look at the words. They mean I don’t know for sure, but I don’t believe in God/s.

If it makes you feel better to call me a secular humanist, bright, freethinker, heathen, nonbeliever, infidel, irreligionist, skeptic, scoffer, doubter, rationalist, or any other synonym that means I don’t believe in anything supernatural, then go for it.

But the simple truth is, my views on things can be described most accurately as this:

A-(without) gnostic (definite knowledge of)

A-(without) theism (a belief in God/s)

And it seems just plain silly to use a different word that means precisely what “atheist” means. So why dance around it? I believe the more people say the dreaded A-word, the less power it will have. One day very soon, we Americans might actually hear something like this on the street:

“Hi, I’m Joe. I’m a plumber.”

“Oh, that’s nice. I’m Mike. I’m an atheist.”

“Great, let’s go grab a beer.”

Are you Discerning?

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 17:53:00 +0000

I bet you think you’re pretty cool. I would guess that you aren’t just some boring schmoe out there who does what is expected of you, day in, day out, nine to five. No, you dance to the beat of your own drum! You have an independent streak. You find every opportunity to improve yourself and the lives around you. You have fine tastes and discriminating preferences. You acquire only the best things in life.

Well, hot shot. Why don’t you have a set of these?

"The Life of Christ in Cats" Commemorative Plate

"The Life Story of Jesus, gloriously captured in cats by internationally reviled Birthday Card artist Antonio Fictitio. Crafted in the finest Armitage Shanks Urinal Grade Porcelain.

It is the greatest story ever told. A man whose life brought joy and hope to the faithful of the world. A man who preached a message of love and peace, and died for all our sins. A man whose Word lives forever in all our hearts. Now, every aspect of that miraculous life, from His lowly birth in a manger, to His agonising death nailed to a cross is whimsically captured in charming feline form, by the artist and cat enthusiast Antonio Fictitio.

Drawing his inspiration from an extremely large gas bill, he ‘purr’-fectly brings this ‘tail’ of inspiration to life and gives ‘paws’ for thought to lovers of cats, plates and Jesus alike.

This plate is not available in the shops. It is exclusive to the Dangleberry Mint and car boot sales all over Britain from mid September."

Source originally by Viz Comics

Atheist New Year’s Resolutions

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 18:58:00 +0000

Are you having trouble thinking of a good New Year’s resolution for 2012? Oh sure, we all have tried the “I’m going to stop eating sour cream and salsa pork rinds topped with whipped cream and stop avoiding my family and drinking Old Crow alone in my basement” route. I know you’ve also told yourself in years past, “I’m going to start taking Zumba classes, stop smoking menthol Kools, and start recycling all those Bud Light cans that I usually throw in the back of my pickup truck,” and this lasts until January 3rd, right?

This year, I have some suggestions for New Year’s resolutions that may be a bit easier to keep than trying to actually tolerate spending more time with your kids.

1. Be outspoken about your beliefs.

Are you open about your godlessness? No? Make this year the year you finally tell the truth when someone asks you what you believe. Contrary to what you see on Fox News, the A-word is not actually a bad word. But watch out. I’ve noticed some atheists substitute rudeness for assertiveness. Sure, I think believing in an invisible man in the sky who can hear and know your every whim and motive is kind of silly, but I don’t point and laugh at my friends who still believe that they are carrying a miniature Jesus around in their hearts. I respect them. But I also demand respect from them. I’m proud, assertive, yet not a jerk about it. I save the venting for my blog and for my boyfriend, with whom I love to watch-and laugh hysterically at-religious programming. I dare you. Try to get through a whole episode of the 700 Club without losing your mind.

2. Think more.

Have you become stagnant in your atheistic, sinful beliefs? That’s when you might get accused of being “fundamental.” Continue to explore the origins of religion. Learn about what other people believe, not just Christianity, as we Americans are immersed in it. Study ancient religions, art, history, music, and all the intertwined things throughout time that have been shaped and guided by the religions of the day. Go to museums and look at how gods throughout human history have changed, and what that might mean for the future of religion in the world. Don’t just stop with reading the God Delusion and proclaiming yourself cool because you’re against the majority. Be well-rounded.

3. Become more politically active and involved in your community.

It’s very easy to think, as Americans, why even bother? My voice doesn’t count. I’m the most despised demographic in this country. I’m just going to sit here on my couch and eat cookie dough, so there! Well, I’d like to encourage you to give to charity, volunteer, and reach out. Be visibly “good without God.” Here is a nice charity to which I give a monthly gift. http://foundationbeyondbelief.org/ I don’t have a lot to give, but I make sure to do it anyway. Also consider joining-or starting-a local Atheist social group, to seek community and solace when you may feel like an outsider in your ~~small, backwards, redneck~~ town. And vote!!!

4. Look at yourself.

I know this might sound cheesy, but wearing the “Scarlet A” is a responsibility. Are you outwardly godless? Well, guess what? You may be the only atheist your friends and family know. Do you represent well? Are you kind, open, respectful, and responsible? Don’t be a dick, is what I’m saying. Because if you are a dick, and the only atheist someone knows, they are probably going to generalize to the rest of us. Try looking inward to see if you give a good name to being an Atheist.

5. Forgive.

If you are like me, you’ve been hurt by some things that people say about your heathen ways. You may have been told that you are immoral, or that you are empty and obviously deluded. You may have been manipulated or coerced. You may have lost friends and been rejected by family. I tell you, first off, that any friend who has such tenuous beliefs that they cannot accept you if your views are different than theirs, was not a friend you really want to have. Their dropping you as a friend speaks more to their own personal doubts about their faith than it does about you. If your family has scolded or ostracized you, give them time. All you can be is honest. Would you rather lie and tell them what they want to hear, or be strong and straight with them? Most of the time, they will come around. Be patient, forgiving, and loving. Let them spew toxic words and chastise you for your beliefs. Let them insinuate that they are better than you, and suggest that you will “come around” to their way of thinking. Just do your best to be quiet, humble, and listen. Attempt to understand that they are simply having trouble accepting something so foreign to them and are probably feeling threatened. Trust yourself and forgive.

There. That should give you some ideas. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there are some pork rinds in the kitchen calling my name.

Pagan-mas

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 18:47:00 +0000

This year for the holidays, like many of you, I have been reveling with friends and family. I hope you’ve had a fun time. I know I have.

I was asked the following question this year, for the first time in my life:

“If you don’t believe in Jesus, why are you celebrating Christmas? Jesus is the only reason for Christmas, right?”

Well, according to this commercial that has been playing incessantly around here, that would be right.

I was kind of taken aback, so I responded, “Well, I don’t necessarily believe that it was right that the Europeans came and took native land and slaughtered the Native Americans, but I still celebrate Thanksgiving.”

Then I added, “To me, it’s about family and generosity.”

But that got me thinking. What is Christmas? Why are Santa Claus, reindeer, carols, mistletoe, and sparkly trees superimposed on a day that, according to its name, should be wholly religious? If it is only about Christ, then why don’t American Christians simply go to church, pray to baby Jesus, and leave it at that? Why do they drape their houses with thousands of colored lights? Why do they hang stockings in front of their fireplaces? Why do Americans spend thousands of dollars on Blue Ray players and iPads, and scramble to get the last Tickle Me Elmo for their bratty kids to believe was left by an obese home intruder? What the hell do those things have to do with Jesus Christ?

Jesus didn’t even watch Sesame Street.

I had vaguely heard some of the things about the Pagan roots of Christmas and the “real” date of birth of Christ, if he had actually existed as a human at all, but I didn’t know how it all played out, exactly.

So I began reading. I make no promises that the internet didn’t lead me astray, but this is what I learned, in a snarky nutshell.

The holidays around the solstice go back all the way to ancient Babylon, and likely back to caveman days. It was when the sun began its “rebirth” during the winter, and since these people were at risk to starve any second because they had to eat bark and shit, they were obviously happy that winter was on its way out. This time of year was the “birthday” of many gods, Attis, Frey, Thor, Dionysus, Osiris, Adonis, Mithra, Tammuz, Cernunnos, etc.

So when the Roman emperor, Constantine, had a hallucination after gorging on wild boar that he would win a battle if he carried a Christian cross into war, (and he did win), he realized he needed to hold off feeding Christians to lions. But he didn’t stop there. Like many newly converted holy rollers, he just couldn’t handle it that the people of the Roman Empire also hadn’t heard the Good News. So, instead of getting on his bike and riding door-to-door to hand out pamphlets, he proclaimed himself the first Christian emperor of Rome, and soon after his death, Christianity was named the official religion of the Roman Empire. The greatest Christian Nation of all time! Take that, America!

The Christian church in the fourth century got all insecure when people continued holding their Pagan parties during Saturnalia and worshiping their awesome sun god, Mithra. They just kept on lighting trees and garland with candles, drunkenly dancing and singing in the streets naked (caroling), setting logs on fire (Yule), exchanging gifts, kissing under mistletoe for good luck with fertility, holding human sacrifices, eating human-shaped crackers (gingerbread men), pillaging and raping, etc. So the church said, “Okay, you dirty heathens, if we let you keep celebrating your Pagan stuff, will you convert and follow Jesus Christ as your savior?” Since December 25th was the last day of Saturnalia, Pope Julius made this the day Jesus was born.

So I guess it worked, because, I mean, here we are, right?

Well, Christmas didn’t really always get the free pass it gets today. Talk about a War on Christmas, Fox News, Oliver Cromwell’s Puritans in the British Isles and America outlawed it in the 1600’s. They thought it was, as it actually is, just too Pagan. Back then, if you were caught celebrating Christmas, you would be jailed for heresy. In America, in fact, if you didn’t go to work on Christmas in the late 1800’s, you’d get fired. Such Scrooges!

Santa, you ask? Oh that’s easy. Basically, he was a Greek saint and bishop of Myra (now part of modern-day Turkey) named Nikolaos [Thanks for the correction, Infidel753] who was known for his generosity and who later lost his temper at the Council of Nicea. He was later worshiped by a cult of sailors, and they moved his bones to Italy. The cult members ousted an existing grandmother deity who gave gifts to children in their socks. Then the St. Nicholas cult got adopted by the Saxons, and they dropped his Mediterranean good looks and metamorphosed him with their god, Woden, who had a long white beard and flew around on a horse. Then the Catholic church bribed the Nicholas cult and converted them to thinking he would distribute his gifts on, you guessed it, December 25th. Lots of different cultures developed their own versions of the saintly Father Christmas gift giver. Then the guy who wrote the Legend of Sleepy Hollow slapped together a satire about a guy with a long white beard who flew around on a horse giving gifts, and then another guy read that and wrote the poem, “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas.” He added reindeer and changed Santa to a pervert who came down your chimney in the middle of the night. Then Harper’s Weekly started showing Santa in cartoons to sell magazines, and added elves, the North Pole, and the “naughty or nice” list, for the joyful manipulation of children.

And who gave us the most modern image we have of St. Nick with the big belly, rosy cheeks, and fuzzy red robes?

Coca-cola. In the 1930’s. To sell soda.

And the moral of the story, American Christians, is this:

You are sun worshiping, polytheistic, hedonistic, commercialized Pagans! Can we all get along now?

Happy New Year, heathens. Here’s to 2012, and the coming apocalypse!

I Can Has Jesus?

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 05:07:00 +0000

Obligatory kitteh post for those of you salivating for cat atheist humor. Hi, mom.

On another note, in the past week, my kittens have fallen in the toilet, spilled coffee on brand new carpet, eaten my iPhone and computer chargers, left a Hershey’s kiss butt-stain on my pillow, pounced on my breasts in the middle of the night, drooled on my mouth while I was sleeping, and puked on my boyfriend’s shoe.

I love cats.

Have You Heard the Good News?

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 03:18:00 +0000

About a year ago, my awesome local group of heathens set up a booth at a beach festival. There were hippy chicks cleansing auras, organic farmers, soy candle makers, and dread-locked bands playing Phish, so it was a very liberal group in attendance. What could possibly be the harm if some self-professed atheists handed out free autographed books by Dan Barker and offered to answer questions about Freethought? You know, similar to the “Ask an Atheist” tables you sometimes see on college campuses. We just sat there. We were there if someone wanted to talk.

One of the things I ordered for our booth was a pack of “nontracts,” little pamphlets from the Freedom from Religion Foundation, just in case anyone asked “What is a Freethinker,” and we got tired of repeating ourselves. In actuality, though, it was meant to be a tongue-in-cheek joke.

Overall, the reception was fantastic. We had many people approach us, smiling, shaking hands, wanting to join us for drinks after the festival. Tons of wonderful, respectful questions were asked and we met a lot of cool people who were interested in learning more about our various outlooks and beliefs. We heard several personal stories and shared our own. It was entirely positive.

Except for one guy. Told us straight up he knew we were going to burn in hell for our arrogance. Begged us to listen and come to church with him to find the Truth. With a quivering voice, he accused us of being “sadly misguided.” Then, while actually trembling with fury, he informed us that we all had “the mentality of a bunch of two-year-olds,” and stormed off muttering angrily under his breath.

It was quite an interesting encounter. As respectful as we remained, this man called us “deluded,” “vain,” “wrong,” and “infantile” without batting an eye. Because we all know that the best way to spread a message is to personally insult someone repeatedly, right? That’s my method.

After the festival, I discovered we didn’t hand out nearly as many nontracts as we thought we would, so I was left with almost one hundred of these little puppies.

Fast forward one year later.

Last night, I saw a terrible redneck pickup truck in a parking lot, similar to this one.

With a grin and evil glance at my boyfriend, I took a Freethinker nontract out of my glove compartment and placed it on the Bubba truck under the windshield wiper. Then, to my horror, I realized this act officially made me an Evangelical Atheist.

I was spreading the Word! I was just the same as the trembling man at the festival! Oh noes!

Now, of course this was more of an obnoxious troll move than an actual attempt to convert someone. Sure. But I will have to be careful about doing that in the future, because, damn, it kind of felt good.

Soon you might spot me standing in front of a church with a Flying Spaghetti Monster hat on, sharing the glory of His noodliness! Then I’ll advance to hanging out by baggage claim at the airport singing the praises of her Holy Hooves, the Invisible Pink Unicorn! Then I might travel on a missionary trip down to South America to help the poor, savage, rainforest natives find Carl Sagan’s Dragon in their Garages…

after I build the natives some garages.

Rick Perry’s Latest Oops Moment

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 00:35:00 +0000

If you haven’t seen this yet, I had to pass this along. This is Rick Perry’s most recent campaign ad from December 6th. Prepare yourselves, heathens.

Now, I know your head is spinning. You’re probably salivating, nauseous, angry, pounding vodka shots, and wondering if the whole world has gone insane. But I have three things to lower your blood pressure, get you off the sauce, and re-establish your hope for humanity.

Here is the first.

That’s called Irony.

Here is the second.

That’s called Great Satire.

And here is the third.

That’s called Poetic Justice.

Yes, apparently, the Perry campaign forgot to disable the “like” and “dislike” feature. It’s approaching record status for You Tube dislikes. In two days. This video hatred level is encroaching on the dislike numbers of Justin Beiber. It is now over 270,000. This is why the internet is my hero.

Cast your vote here.

Note: To my godless readers who live in Europe and other wonderful countries out there, the answer is yes. This man, Rick Perry, is really running for President of the United States.

People actually gave him over $17 million from August 1st to September 30th. He graduated from Texas A&M with a degree in animal science with a 2.5 GPA, and reportedly once placed live chickens in the closet of an upperclassman during Christmas break and used M-80 firecrackers to prank students using the toilet. Rick Perry who said:

"From time to time there are going to be things that occur that are acts of God that cannot be prevented." (Referring to the BP oil spill in the Gulf)

"I am a firm believer in intelligent design as a matter of faith and intellect, and I believe it should be presented in schools alongside the theories of evolution."

"Texans, on the other hand, elect folks like me - you know the type, the kind of guy who goes jogging in the morning packing a Ruger .380 with laser sights, loaded with hollow point bullets, and shoots a coyote that is threatening his daughter's dog."

Rick Perry who called for three days of fasting and prayer for rain to end the drought in Texas, and then when millions of acres burst into flames and wildfires ravaged hundreds of homes, slashed the state firefighting budget by 75%.

Man, I could go on all day. It’s just too easy, isn’t it?

I’m Blonde Nonbeliever, and I approve this message.

Sagan’s Son

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Wed, 07 Dec 2011 21:46:00 +0000

This really makes me feel better about that time I woke up to discover a fresh cat dingleberry on my pillow. Just star-stuff.

Source: SMBC Comics

Is it Because I’m Blonde?

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 19:35:00 +0000

Here is my comment policy. You can find it at the bottom of my blog.

I moderate all submitted comments before publishing them. Any serious rudeness, obscenity, spammy attempts to advertise your adult dating website, or blatant nastiness other than the usual witty comments or garbled, Deliverance-style death threats will not be accepted into my happy blog land. And cheer up, it's not that bad! Peace!

I just wanted to address the multitudes of people who, for some reason, leave a bland comment, such as “Great blog, thanks for writing,” and who then subtly slip in a link to their website plastered with absurdly large plastic boobs and school girl skirts for Big and Sexy Men, or Sophisticated Singles, or I’m Sitting in My Boxers in my Mom’s Basement dating sites. I just thought I should say, I’m on to you.

Yes, I admit, I also get Google hits from such asinine queries like “Big blonde booty,” “Blonde vomit fetish,” “Sexy blonde with Kool-whip,” and the best, most insulting thus far…

“Blonde but not dumb.”

Seriously, I get web traffic from Russian sites. Why do multiple Russian adult dating site administrators link to my blog about atheism? Is it the blonde thing? Are all women with blonde hair going to end up wearing a Hermoine Granger sexy wizard Hogwarts slut costume on a poorly-designed, amateur dating website some day? “Call now, I’m hot and waiting for you. It will be magic! Spasiba!”

Find out how to meet and sleep with sexy cougars, fifty percent off if you call now!! Pay for my secrets in this tell-all method how to seduce hot local women! Visit this link to purchase my fail-proof discreet way to find your sexy soulmate! Start dating beautiful ladies in 28 days or less, without losing weight, with my insider secrets!

Look, most bloggers write because they like to write and think they might have something to share. You have your site to dupe someone into paying you money because they are lonely. This. This is why your comments have been deleted. Please don’t try to make money off me.

It was Locusts!

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Sun, 04 Dec 2011 00:22:00 +0000

Man, I just realized I posted only three times in November. I humbly grovel, repent, and flagellate myself. I was sick, traveling, and then my family was visiting. Honest, baby. I ran out of gas. I, I had a flat tire. I didn't have enough money for cab fare. My tux didn't come back from the cleaners. An old friend came in from out of town. Someone stole my car. There was an earthquake. A terrible flood! Locusts! IT WASN'T MY FAULT I SWEAR TO GOD!!!

I Feel Sorry for You

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Sat, 03 Dec 2011 22:25:00 +0000

This post is dedicated to George Carlin, so it is rated R for Mature Atheists Only.

There are some people for whom you should feel sorry. The boy who wets his pants in front of his entire third grade class on group picture day. The woman who doesn’t know that you can see her granny-panty lines through her slacks day after day at the office. The man sleeping in the park in the middle of winter (who is not part of the Occupy Movement and cannot go home to his warm bed when he feels like it).

I have news for you. Atheists ain’t on that list.

Yet how many times have you heard, “I feel sorry for you,” because you don’t believe in God?

May I see a show of hands? Yep, that’s what I thought.

You know who else is someone you should not feel sorry for?

George Motherfucking (#6) Carlin, that’s who! The man who taught me the Seven Dirty Words when I sneaked into my parents’ room one night to watch HBO.

(Please review the classic Seven Dirty Words by Carlin here. “Motherfucker” is #6. For your enjoyment, I have included all of the dirty words in this post, in honor of George Carlin, God bless his soul.)

Okay, so the other day, one of my godless friends posted that classic video clip of George Carlin on religion and God on Facebook. You know, the one where he says,

“Religion has actually convinced people that there's an invisible man living in the sky who watches everything you do, every minute of every day. And the invisible man has a special list of ten things he does not want you to do. And if you do any of these ten things, he has a special place, full of fire and smoke and burning and torture and anguish, where he will send you to live and suffer and burn and choke and scream and cry forever and ever 'til the end of time!

But He loves you. He loves you, and He needs money!”

Not five minutes pass when a religious woman, let’s call her Trixie, chimes in with, “I feel sorry for him.”

When another atheist, let’s call her Rhonda, politely informed her that Mr. Carlin actually died in 2008, holier-than-thou Trixie had the audacity to say, “Well I guess he will truly meet his maker now...and realize what a blind fool he was!....”

Oh, hold the phone. Fuck (#3) me! Did she just call George Carlin, IQ 180 or higher, a “blind fool?” Is this a bizarro world?! Thirty-two year old religious soccer mom cunt (#4) feels sorry for George Carlin ostensibly because he is now in hell?

Rhonda responds with snark and says, “Well, it will be Limbo or the City of Dis for me, hee hee!”

“Well, then, I am sorry for you too….wish you knew…” presumptuously retorts Trixie.

And that’s when I got pissed (#2).

Now, I don’t make a habit of trolling, but like a well-rehearsed dance, Rhonda and I proceeded to launch into a serious detailed back-and-forth about the holy requirements of several other deities and religions, from Egyptian, Mayan, Ancient Greek, and Norse, and what we needed to do to ensure our salvation. We discussed human sacrifice and embalming, tombs and not eating pigs, celibacy and burning witches at the stake. We stoically pondered how we should cover all our bases to get into the Land of the Two Fields, Elysium, and Valhalla. We cited the Popol Vuh, the Yasna, the Book of the Dead, and Dianetics.

After I proposed killing a goat and circumcising my two cats, I shit (#1) you not, Trixie lamely writes,

“I hope u r kidding…”

…

Ya think? Ya think?!?

Then, the original man who posted the George Carlin video comes back into the discussion just as I was rolling off the couch with laughter.

He summed it up beautifully. This is when life became art.

Trixie, they are indeed kidding, and are merely mocking the ridiculousness that someone would actually believe in man-preached religion and afterlife to a certainty as if they have actually been there and seen it.

BTW, there is no defending religion to a reasonable critical thinking human being who has discovered how and why man devised religion. There have been 2,870 cataloged deities since the beginning of written history. I don't believe in 2,870 of them, you don't believe in 2,869 of them. Are we really all that different?

Nicely said, you wonderful cocksucker (#5).

Oh. And one last thing. Tits (#7).

What Would Redneck Jesus Do?

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Sat, 12 Nov 2011 02:56:00 +0000

As many of you know, I have been blessed. Although only in my ~~thirties~~ twenties, I live in a condo at the beach. This comes with obvious enjoyment and many perks, but it also means I have to tolerate noisy families, drunk spring breakers, and rednecks. Oh, the rednecks. Yes, I live at the Redneck Riviera, and certain times of year, say when they gather together to throw fish in the air, they are here in droves.

Unfortunately, my newest neighbor falls into this category. He lives just upstairs, and I have learned he is a new owner, so he is here to stay.

He drives a Hummer.

The completely decked out, shiny, gaudy, 14 mile per gallon guzzling, monstrosity of a vehicle is bigger than my fucking bedroom. He has fitted it, as if it wasn’t outlandish enough already, with a train horn. Yes, I did just say, “train horn.” Have you ever been sleeping in a hotel one night, and you aren’t aware of it, but your window is actually right next to train tracks, and a locomotive blasts its whistle right as it passes? I have. I fell out of bed, and now have recurring nightmares of being run over by trains and lost in hot, dark, endless train tunnels. You have not known a nightmare until you wake up with phantom crushing pain in your kidneys after being cut in two by a train.

Let me explain how loud this horn is. The loudest rock concert is 140 decibels. You get cottony ears from a concert. A jet engine and a gun shot are 160 decibels. Ouch.

His horn is 180 decibels. That’s when cell death occurs. That’s a stun grenade.

The loudest sound possible, as in nothing can exist louder than this, is 194 decibels, a shockwave.

This phallically-challenged man is keen on blowing his train horn in the parking lot. Outside my window. At 1:00 a.m. This is a new level of douchebaggery.

Imagine my surprise when I saw that Chief Little Big Horn has a shiny Jesus fish on his bumper!

It got me thinking. What would the bible tell us about train horns?

If only you would be altogether silent! For you, that would be wisdom.
--Job 13:5

It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord. --Lamentations 3:26

Even a fool is thought wise if he keeps silent, and discerning if he holds his tongue.
--Proverbs 17:28

How’s aboot some divine advice about driving a vehicle that costs more than some people’s houses?

Do nothing from selfishness or conceit, but in humility count others better than yourselves. --Philippians 2:3

Seest thou a man wise in his own conceit? There is more hope of a fool than of him. --Proverbs 26:12

He who tills his land will have plenty of bread, but he who pursues worthless things lacks sense. --Proverbs 12:11

Try as I might, I could not find a verse that said:

“To truly please the Lord, go forth and buy a $600.00 train horn. Adorn thy ridiculous chariot with it, and at every chance, blast it with a joyous noise unto the Lord to wake thy neighbors. This, and this alone, will compensate for thine three inch penis and let all thine womanly neighbors know that thou are, in fact, straight. Do this in the name of the Lord.”

But I’ll keep looking.

Count Your Blessings

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Tue, 08 Nov 2011 21:58:00 +0000

As Thanksgiving approaches, I have witnessed a Facebook outpouring of “Today I am thankful for…” posts. Most of them are nice. People are feeling appreciative for things like healthy children, loving spouses, new homes, and old friends.

And then there’s this:

“As if I didn’t know God was good, today I am thankful that He saw fit to leave a lost ten dollar bill in the isle of the Rite Aid pharmacy for me to find! His blessings continue to surprise me. I give thanks to Him for reminding me that He is always in my life! Now I’m buying a yummy pumpkin latte at Starbucks! TBTG!”

So, you are so cool and wonderful that God thinks you need an overpriced sugary coffee, when that ten dollars could provide a starving child and his dying family in the Sudan with food for a month? Wow, you must be pretty special! All He got for His son, Jesus, was a painful, gruesome death on a cross.

Apparently, the Holy Father has so little to do helping dying babies and smiting atheists that He decided, “Kristie has so many blessings, two great children, a wonderful husband, a new Volvo, a secure job, a warm, comfortable home, and many caring friends. But, she’s such a good Christian girl, I’m going to take some extra time today to give her ten dollars to remind her to keep worshiping me.”

Hey, Kristie, an angry, cynical atheist wants to ask you, “Wouldn’t that ten dollars be better serving God if you turned right around and gave it to the homeless man you pretended not to see on the side of the road as you were on your way to Bed Bath and Beyond to buy a turkey-themed welcome mat?”

“No, how dare you question His ways! God obviously wants me to be happy! God wants me to give my lucky ten dollar bill to Starbucks, a corporation that rakes in thirteen billion dollars in annual revenue, not my daughter’s teacher who is about to lose her home after her husband died of a lingering disease, or the woman at church who is filing for bankruptcy because of her medical bills, or the single mother behind me at the gas station who will be going without dinner tonight so she can feed her children instead. No. I deserve a seven dollar coffee because I am a good Christian and I have been blessed by God.”

Learn from this, my friends. If you are an obedient Christian who remembers where your bread is buttered, and you give thanks and praise to your Sugar Daddy at all times, He will touch your life in miraculous ways. He will help you get a great deal on those new granite countertops for your house, let you find a Tickle Me Elmo for your son’s birthday, make your husband take you on a trip to St. Bart this year, and ensure that the adorable turkey cookies you make for your family Thanksgiving dinner will put your sister’s shitty bran muffins to shame.

Thanks be to God.

Can’t Even go to the Kwik-E Mart

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 21:40:00 +0000

So the other night, I had a hankerin’ for a six-day-old hot dog, stale chili cheez nachos, and a half-gallon of brown sugary soda water laced with chemicals, so I walked over to my neighborhood convenience store. As I stood in line behind a fat man sporting a plumber’s ass crack, I glanced to my left and was graced with material for my blog!

It seems that Jesus had blessed this particular Chevron food store. Lo, His presence could be found everywhere! Yes, there at the holy checkout counter was a massive display of Jesus shtick! Bracelets, necklaces, headbands, bumper stickers, rings, belts, and t-shirts as far as the eye could see!

As we all know, Jesus would have approved of this. Just look to the scripture.

“I also want women to dress tackily, with hot pink plastic Jesus-fish bracelets and holy spirit hairbands, not with braided hair or gold or pearls or expensive clothes, but with airbrushed angel t-shirts, cheap toe rings, and savior-themed hoodies appropriate for women who profess to worship God.” (NIV, 1 Timothy 2:9-10)

“Your beauty should not come from sophisticated adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of crucifix earrings, the unfading beauty of WWJD belts, and temporary cross tattoos, which are of great worth in God's sight. For this is the way the holy women of the convenience store who put their hope in God make themselves beautiful.” (NIV, 1 Peter 3:2-5)

Here are some of the ways you can sell your soul by merchandising your religion, and also ensure your continuing virginity.

See, it’s hip because there’s a word spelled wrong. And it totally looks like the Harley Davidson emblem! Still, you’d get beat to a bloody pulp if a biker caught you wearing this shirt, unless Jesus was his copilot.

No time for Team Edward or Team Jacob, I’m rockin’ it with Team Jesus!

“Yes, I am a princess. My Father is the King of Kings.” And my grandmother, Mary, is a virgin, just like me! *shifty eyes*

So Mr. Right is a celibate, middle aged, Jewish dead guy? Boy, have I been looking for the wrong things in a man. Let’s see how my current boyfriend measures up:

1. He knows all the desires of my heart. X

2. He will never leave me. X

3. He is a prince. X

4. He walks on water. X

5. He died for me. X

6. He loves me. ✔

7. He opens the door. ✔

8. He gives me eternal life. X

9. He shines like the sun. X

10. He is Jesus. X

Damn. I guess I know what I have to do now. “Honey, we need to talk…”

I’m pretty sure if Jesus came back and He saw this shirt, He would suffer from violent flashbacks of His horrible, gruesome death and just start crying. Then He’d bitch slap you for wearing this bullshit.

And to prove that I really do live in the bible belt, I present you with “Following Jesus and Fishing Along the Way.” Yee-haw! You are now an honorary hick-in-training. Here is your congratulatory Redneck Kit. It contains a can of Skoal, a six-pack of Bud Light, a pair of truck testicles, a ticket to NASCAR, a gift certificate to Hooters, a mounted deer head, and a membership to the local chapter of Cow Tippers R Us. Please start memorizing the lyrics to the official southern hillbilly theme song, “I’m Proud to be an American.”

Oh, and by the way, the Redneck secret handshake is actually just holding one nostril closed and blowing your nose on the ground. In case we meet someday.

Waiting by the Phone

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Fri, 28 Oct 2011 19:32:00 +0000

I saw this graphic posted on Facebook.

It immediately reminded me of a time when I was in high school and had a crush on a cute boy in class named Brett. He had asked for my phone number as he mumbled, “Uh, y’know, maybe we can, like, hang out or go bowling some time.” It was the first time I had given out my number, and like, oh my god! He could be a complete psycho! But no, it’s okay, he knows where I live and he has my phone number, but he’s a sweet boy. I did the right thing.

For the next two weeks, I wait by my Garfield phone; I avoid leaving the house, because what if he calls? I don’t have an answering machine and it’s the days before voicemail, so what if I miss the call? I must stay home.

According to the logic presented in the pretty picture above, in which I can’t help but notice a boat is hopelessly stuck in a thick sheet of ice in the middle of a river with no chance for rescue, these would have been the probable scenarios with my crush:

If Brett calls me on the phone and takes me out to dinner at the Western Sizzler, then he pays for dinner and we see the Batman movie, and he holds my hand, and finally gives me a sweet kiss and says he’d love to see me again, then I was right in giving a random fifteen year old boy my phone number! My faith that good things will always happen to me has been increased, and I will be eager to give out my personal information to strangers in the future because I will always be blessed by God! I will end up the victim of identity theft and will probably be in the process of divorcing my sixth husband. Hallelujah!

If Brett calls to ask me out, then drives me to McDonalds in his mother’s Pontiac Bonneville, and forgets his wallet and tells me to pay; if his breath smells like a golden retriever who just ate a cat turd, and he tries to grab my crotch in the dark of the movie, then I should just be patient and realize that this was not the man for me. I know I should simply handle this with grace and faith. I will be more reluctant in the future to give out my number to boys. I will wait for my perfect soulmate to ride up on a white horse and sweep me away. I will then find myself a thirty-eight year old virgin living with six cats and a Roomba named Brett. I hate God because of my loneliness and because He has blatantly ignored my numerous prayers for true love over the years.

If Brett never even calls at all, I will realize that God doesn’t answer prayers. I will learn that ultimately no one cares about me. I’m utterly alone and not even an all-loving God gives a shit about me. I thought if I uttered enough feverish, horny girl prayers that Brett would call. Why doesn’t he just call, what's wrong with me, why isn’t he calling?! I hate myself! I’m so ugly, I just want to run away and never come back to this so-called life! I hate you, mom!!! In my teen rebellion against a God who refuses to grant my wishes, I will likely be placed in juvenile detention after I am picked up for being a teenage runaway. Later in life, I’ll start running a meth lab with my baby daddy, and I’ll end up in a ditch, missing many teeth, finally sentenced to jail for crack possession, all because Brett never called because God didn’t make him call.

Because no matter what, when you pray for something, the ultimate answer to why something good happens, something shitty happens, or nothing happens is Mysterious Ways. The Lord Works in Mysterious Ways. We cannot know His ultimate purpose for us, so just sit back and continue believing that you have no power in your life, that everything happens for a reason, and that you are a puppet in the grand scheme of things. Just let old God handle everything, and don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. Don’t question why your life sucks. Just let it continue to suck, knowing that God will help you. Someday. On His time. Only when you are ready. There! Don’t you feel better now?

By the way, Brett never called.

Dear America

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Wed, 26 Oct 2011 23:07:00 +0000

Did you know that as of 2009, 75% of Americans believed that God either guides life on earth or created humans as they are today in the last 10,000 years? Or that a full 1/3 of us believe the entire bible is literally true?

I really don’t have anything snarky or funny to say about this.

Because it’s really sad.

On another note, half of the American population thinks that Christianity came before Judaism, 41% agree that ESP is real, and 80% believe in aliens.

You may be thinking, these people are just stupid. Well, you are onto something there. Education really is the key when it comes to understanding and “believing” in evolution.

So, this is America, the country where people believe it is more noble and majestic to come from dirt and a rib rather than from a common ancestor. Why don't we all stop watching Survivor, put down our buckets of fried chicken, and pick up a freakin’ book? Because we're America, dammit, and we're number one! (In obesity levels...)

Scientology Started as a Joke?

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Sat, 22 Oct 2011 21:42:00 +0000

You always suspected it, right?

I mean, come on.

Around 75 million years ago Xenu, the ruler of a Galactic Confederation of 76 planets, transported billions of his charges in spaceships similar to DC-8 jets to a planet called Teegeeack (Earth). There they were placed near volcanoes and killed by exploding hydrogen bombs, after which their “thetans” (souls) remained to inhabit the bodies of future earthlings, causing humans today great spiritual harm and unhappiness that can be remedied through special techniques involving an Electropsychometer (E-meter) in a process called auditing.

Well, according to an October 20, 2011 Scientific American article I just read, it actually did start out as a joke. Did you know this? Michael Shermer, author of The Believing Brain, recently confirmed what I always secretly thought.

I recently interviewed the acclaimed science-fiction author Harlan Ellison, who told me he was at the birth of Scientology. At a meeting in New York City of a sci-fi writers’ group called the Hydra Club, Hubbard was complaining to L. Sprague de Camp and the others about writing for a penny a word. “Lester del Rey then said half-jokingly, ‘What you really ought to do is create a religion because it will be tax-free,’ and at that point everyone in the room started chiming in with ideas for this new religion. So the idea was a Gestalt that Ron caught on to and assimilated the details. He then wrote it up as ‘Dianetics: A New Science of the Mind’ and sold it to John W. Campbell, Jr., who published it in Astounding Science Fiction in 1950.”

Scientology is bullshit! Man, I was there the night L. Ron Hubbard invented it, for Christ's sakes! ... We were sitting around one night... who else was there? Alfred Bester, and Cyril Kornbluth, and Lester del Rey, and Ron Hubbard, who was making a penny a word, and had been for years. And he said “This bullshit's got to stop!” He says, “I gotta get money.” He says, “I want to get rich.” And somebody said, “Why don't you invent a new religion? They're always big.” We were clowning! You know, “Become Elmer Gantry! You'll make a fortune!” He says, “I'm going to do it.” –Harlan Ellison "The Real Harlan Ellison" in Wings (November-December 1978) p. 32

(Source: Wikiquote) You can read the full transcript here. You can also see a letter seized during an FBI raid on Scientology headquarters that shows Hubbard turned to “religion” for money here.

Granted, Ellison’s claims cannot be fact-checked, as I read that all the other witnesses he named are deceased.

But it kind of makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is that some people believe in Xenu and thetans, and regularly shell out huge amounts of money to climb the ranks and advance through the different levels of Scientology.

Other countries, like the United Kingdom (that’s England, Northern Ireland, Scotland, and Wales), Norway, Belgium, Switzerland, France, Finland, Canada, and Denmark refuse to recognize Scientology as a religion. They call it a business. America has given Scientology the religious thumbs-up since 1993. We are on the same list as nations such as Indonesia, Kyrgyzstan, Slovenia, South Africa, and Venezuela who also love them some Xenu.

Once again, America shows some questionable judgment. Much like this graphic illustrates.

Take that, Turkey! In your face!

I personally don’t think any church or religion is anything more than a commercial enterprise. Religion is the most lucrative business in human history, isn’t it? But that’s just my opinion. I suspect that Michael Shermer would agree with me.

Check out the subtle jab he takes at the end of his article.

To be fair, Scientology’s Xenu story is no more scientifically untenable than other faiths’ origin myths. If there is no testable means of determining which creation cosmogony is correct, perhaps they are all astounding science fictions.

Read the full Scientific American article here.

As an afterthought, now I’m totally imagining some guys sitting on stone steps in a bustling town square two thousand years ago, smoking hashish, and complaining about how they get paid only one handful of heavily-taxed barley for every story they tell in the oral tradition. One of them turns to Jesus and says, “What you really ought to do is start a religion because at least all your grain will be tax-free.” They all start throwing out hilarious crazy shit like being born of a virgin and walking on water, while Jesus listens intently.

Then they all just decide to go get some burritos because they’ve got the munchies.

"You don't get rich writing science fiction. If you want to get rich, you start a religion.” –L. Ron Hubbard

Happy End of the World Day!

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 21:42:00 +0000

"Thus we can be sure that the whole world, with the exception of those who are presently saved (the elect), are under the judgment of God, and will be annihilated together with the whole physical world on Oct. 21, 2011.” –Harold Camping

Harold, the time has come! Your doomsday has arrived! And what perfect weather it is for the Armageddon.

It’s a beautiful, crisp beach day, ideal for smiting. Not a cloud in the sky, so I’ll easily see Michael the Archangel descending from heaven. There’s a cool northerly breeze blowing through my open windows, soon to be ripe with the smell of pestilence and scorched earth. It’s great riding weather for the Four Horsemen, too.

Is that the sound of seven trumpets I hear? Oh boy, I can’t wait to be tortured by the scorpion-tailed locusts for the next several months. I might have the best seat in the house with my Gulf view to witness the seven-headed, ten-horned Beast of the Sea rise from the depths.

I have a couple of questions, though.

Several verses in the book of Revelation say that the stars will fall from the heavens. Like this one:

And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters. (8:10)

If God is perfect and all-knowing, wouldn’t He realize that a star is vastly larger than the Earth, not a little sparkly dot or “lamp.” The stars wouldn’t “fall” to Earth, they would completely incinerate it, right?

Also, just how are the 144,000 virgin Jewish men who are to be spared from God’s loving wrath, at the exclusion of everyone else, supposed to recognize Jesus when He comes?

Will He be on a white, floating horse and have eyes of flames, bloody clothes, many crowns on His head, and a sword coming out of His mouth (19:14-15)

Will He be surrounded by golden candlesticks with white hair, eyes of fire, and brass feet? (1:12-16)

Will He be sitting on a cloud with a sharp sickle, which He uses to “reap” and slaughter all the people? (14:14-18)

Or will He be the Lion of Judah, a seven-horned lamb with seven eyes? (5:5)

Okay, in all seriousness, I’ll stop making fun the malaria-induced hallucinations of a guy named John.

Regarding today’s botched End of the World prophesy, I mostly just wonder this: are people finally going to resist following the sanctimonious ravings of a ninety year old man off his meds? Will they stop pumping money into his thriving scam of a business, the $72,000,000.00 Family Radio network? As he has failed to predict the Rapture and the Apocalypse several times since his first proclamation went fffffftttt in 1994, will his sheep finally stop selling their possessions and quitting their jobs to shout on street corners that “the End is Nigh?”

I believe that Harold Camping should be in jail, personally, along with other evangelists who prey on people in pain and desperation by making fairytale promises and invisible threats-and readily taking their money in exchange. Pat Robertson, who recently encouraged a woman who could not pay her bills or mortgage to “manage” her money better, but for God’s sake, keep tithing, should be his cellmate. What a wrinkly, miserable couple they’d make.

If you haven’t seen this already, please take a gander at the opulent lifestyles of Harold Camping’s fellow men of God.

As fond as these hypocritical preacher-men are of informing the masses how we are going to Hell, I think it’s pretty clear, if Hell existed, who would actually be taking a trip downstairs. I’m looking at you, Harold.

The Rapture, October 2011 Version

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Wed, 19 Oct 2011 18:37:00 +0000

World-famous Rapture predictor, Harold Camping, was “flabbergasted” when 200 million Christians did not float up to Heaven on May 21, 2011. But then he explained that “the globe will be completely destroyed in five months when the apocalypse comes. But because God's judgment and salvation were completed on Saturday [May 21, 2011], there's no point in continuing to warn people about it, so his network will now just play Christian music and programs until the final end on Oct. 21, 2011.”

Good luck, heathen friends. This is it. I guess I will see you at the check-in line in two days down there with the billions of other people who do not subscribe to Harold Camping’s version of a certain variation on a popular religion out of several thousand other religions that have existed throughout the history of humanity.

I wonder what I should wear for my trip below. Perhaps I'll dress in layers-who knows what the weather is like down there. It might be drafty in some spots. Hey, should I pack some bottled water for Hell, or will they confiscate it at security?

http://www.mattbors.com/archives/763.html

Timeline of the Universe

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Mon, 17 Oct 2011 18:15:00 +0000

“So I've learnt that the world is 4,500 million years old. If you're very religious, then it's not 4,500 million years old, it's 6,000 years old. One of these is not correct.” –Eddie Izzard

(Click image below for it to open in a new window, then click on the magnifying glass.)

Source: Chainbear

God on a Butterfly

noreply@blogger.com (Blonde Nonbeliever) — Sun, 16 Oct 2011 02:41:00 +0000

This is a hilariously cute example of a young child’s ideas about Jesus and God. Did you know that Jesus lives on the sun? Or that He can see in the dark because He is invisible? Or that God rides on a giant butterfly?

What? That makes just as much sense as any of the rest of it.

You know I’m right.