And I’m An Atheist!

Sometimes, people just like to piss me off. I need to start making a list. Today’s entry is the person who writes a long letter to the editor (why, yes, it was just yesterday I read it) about how we shouldn’t care if there is “under god” in the pledge, or “in god we trust” on our money, or a prayer on the wall of a school, or the ten commandments in a courthouse… Because after all, “God” is just a common word for the inimitable essential spirit of humankind, the force that drives culture, ethics, and morals, and which we all must surely agree exists beyond any shadow of a doubt. (First off, I do not agree in the slightest…) … and then ends the letter with “and I’m an atheist!” *sigh* It takes all sorts.

There’s “In God We Trust” on my money
But I don’t really notice it’s there
And you may think it’s odd or it’s funny
The truth is, I really don’t care!

And I’m an atheist!

See “God” is a metaphor, actually
For a spirit, or essence, or spark
Not meant to be taken quite factually
And we all say our prayers in the dark

And I’m an atheist!

There are mysteries none can unravel
All our knowledge is merely façade;
And I’ve learned, as I grow and I travel,
I can label my ignorance “God”

And I’m an atheist!

So this spirit’s in all that surrounds us
In each sight and each sound we perceive
In each feeling of awe that astounds us
Till there’s no other choice but “believe!”

And I’m an atheist!

[Read more…]

I Got My Wish!

Wrong-again Harold had made a prediction
Wrong-again Harold was once again wrong
Wrong-again Harold believed in a fiction,
But wrong-again Harold kept chugging along.

Wrong-again Harold had plenty of money
So wrong-again Harold bought billboards and such
People who saw them all thought they were funny
But wrong-again Harold, he didn’t care much

Wrong-again Harold misled the believers
Wrong-again Harold expressed no remorse
Wrong-again, wrong-again,
String-em-along-again,
Wrong-again Harold stayed true to his course.

Wrong-again Harold, he looked through the bible
Wrong-again Harold, he did all the math
Wrong-again Harold, he claim’s he’s reli’ble
And gives us the date and the time of god’s wrath

Wrong-again Harold, I feel I should mention,
Wrong-again Harold has done this before;
Wrong-again Harold, he craves the attention—
Wrong-again Harold’s a media whore.

Wrong-again Harold misled the reporters
Wrong-again Harold expressed no remorse
Wrong-again, wrong-again,
String-em-along-again,
Wrong-again Harold stayed true to his course.

Wrong-again Harold’s not much of a story
Wrong-again Harold has nothing to say
Wrong about rapture and heaven and glory
Please, can we just put this story away?

Wrong-again Harold, the media darling,
Radio, papers, the web, and TV
There on your soapbox, you’ve led me to snarling:
Bury this story, and just let me be!

Wrong-again Harold provided the message
Wrong-again Media, added their force
Wrong-again, wrong-again,
String-us-along-again,
Wrong-again Harold stayed true to his course.

That was my verse from the earlier end of the world. You know, the third or fourth prediction. Not today’s.

I know it’s the end of the world today, but I can’t find it in the early editions of any news sites! You know it’s a bad day for parasitic end-of-times cultists when the only ones paying attention are the ones making fun of them.

Purple?

I’m sorry; I didn’t wear purple today,
But I have to say, in fairness—
I’m not opposed at all to gay rights;
I’m opposed to “raising awareness”
I’ll speak my mind; I’ll teach my class;
I’ll probably reach a few;
But tell me… “raising awareness”—
What, exactly, does it do?
Some homophobic moron
Could be very much “aware”
He knows that he discriminates
And proudly does not care
“Awareness” is a fiction
Roughly on a par with “prayer”
Petitioning an entity
That isn’t even there.
I will not dress in purple
(even though it sounds like fun)
I will not raise awareness—
I would rather get things done.

Explanation, after the jump: [Read more…]

Prayer ‘Cure’ Kills Three

Throw away your medicines!
God alone can cure!
Trust in Him, repent your sins
Make sure your thoughts are pure!
God can cure your HIV
With love that never fades
Trust in Him, and you will see
He’ll cure you of your AIDS
God’s healing is omnipotent
And infinite in worth
It brings an end that’s heaven-sent
To illness on the Earth
So throw away your medicines
Sing praises to His name!
And when your illness kills you, then
Your lack of faith’s to blame.

Deadly pinheaded faith-healing nonsense, after the jump:
[Read more…]

Major Motion Picture Event

Over at Zingularity, reports of a new major motion picture event–a $150 million dollar retelling of the Noah’s Ark story. I do so hope they go with the “gritty realism” school of movies. If they do, I have the first draft–well, second, I guess, if the bible is the first draft–of their movie all set to go!

Bring popcorn, and meet me after the jump:
[Read more…]

Getting Out The Dominionist Vote

There are demons in the water
There are demons in the air
There are demons in the people
There are demons everywhere!

Let us cast away your demons—
We can put them in a goat—
You can safely go to heaven;
It will only cost your vote.

On the eve of the elections
We are putting out the call:
It’s Dominionists or Demons;
Only one can rule us all!

Don’t you want to go to Heaven?
Don’t you want to be God’s child?
You must vote the way we tell you…
And the devil slowly smiled.

Important cool stuff, after the jump:

[Read more…]

One Person Per Car

Look at them driving—one person per car—
Some driving forever; some not very far
They want to be somewhere that’s not where they are
So off they go driving, one person per car.

Some drive for a living; some drive just for fun
Some drive to the gym, then get out and go run
Then a bottle of juice and an energy bar
And away they go driving, one person per car

It’s not that they’re lazy, or selfish, or mean
Or under the thumb of some wastefulness gene
It’s not that they’re stupid; they’re not unaware
And it’s certainly not that they just don’t care
They’re the same as I am, and the same as you are
But off they go driving, one person per car

The drivers are heard to complain as they pass,
Of the costs of insurance, the high price of gas,
The taxes, inspections, repairs and the lot,
And there’s practically never a good parking spot
And the traffic! Imagine the time they have lost
As they sit, breathing everyone else’s exhaust
Till the roofs of their mouths taste of asphalt and tar
And they sit there—just sit there—one person per car

The car manufacturers sound a bit troubled;
They wish that their mileage could somehow be doubled
Without major changes—or any at all,
Cos the public won’t buy if the car is too small
It has to have room for a trip to the shore
With a couple of riders, perhaps three or four
And they need to have room for the blankets and gear
For the trips they might take, maybe one time a year
But of course they spend most of their hours, by far
Just sitting in traffic, one person per car

If the energy used as they try to explain
How they can’t take the subway; they can’t take the train
How they can’t join a carpool or hop on a bike
But drive to wherever, whenever they like
If the energy used as they make their excuses
Were tapped, for the energy bullshit produces…
Distill it, refine it, and fill up a jar
And off they’d go driving, one person per car

slight rant after the jump:
[Read more…]

Never Was Good With Machines…

Actually, the original title was “The singularity can’t come soon enough”, but I found that the people who googled “can’t come soon enough” weren’t actually looking for my writing.

This is one of my faves from the old digs; today’s earlier post on the Internet Of Things put it in mind.

I have a machine to smell my coffee,
To see if it’s any good;
I asked it to make me the perfect cup,
But I think it misunderstood—
It analyzed alkaloids, sampled aromas,
Tried seventeen samples of beans,
Then told me I clearly had no taste at all:
I never was good with machines.

My pre-owned car has an onboard computer—
It measures my driving, you see.
I guess I don’t drive like the previous owner;
My car likes him better than me.
It spits out a spreadsheet of technical numbers—
I don’t know what much of it means,
Except that my car thinks it’s better without me:
I never was good with machines.

Of course, at my office, I have a computer—
The one I am using right now;
It laughs at my grammar and sneers at my spelling,
Although I’m not really sure how.
Just one tiny part of a cubicle farm
Where we’re packed like so many sardines—
Do we use computers, or do they use us?
I never was good with machines.

I’m worried that someday my household appliances,
Sitting at home on my shelves,
Finally realize there’s nothing I offer
That they can’t do better themselves.
They make better coffee, they get better mileage,
Their words rarely stink up their screens—
And I’ll be left out in the cold and the dark:
I never was good with machines.