Month: May 2008

Attention John Derbyshire: the Cantina is Open

jacob1 Comment

Poor John. It’s hard being a conservative in these troubled times.

Ben Stein’s fuckwittery knows no bounds:

In an interview with the Trinity Broadcasting Network, Ben Stein said the following amazing thing in an interview with Paul Crouch, Jr.

Stein: When we just saw that man, I think it was Mr. Myers [i.e. biologist P.Z. Myers], talking about how great scientists were, I was thinking to myself the last time any of my relatives saw scientists telling them what to do they were telling them to go to the showers to get gassed … that was horrifying beyond words, and that’s where science — in my opinion, this is just an opinion — that’s where science leads you.

Crouch: That’s right.

Stein: …Love of God and compassion and empathy leads you to a very glorious place, and science leads you to killing people.

And John Derbyshire suffers:

And there are NRO readers who are on board with this dreck? I need a drink.


We have drinks, John. Claim yourself a stool and name your poison.

You know, we don’t see eye-to-eye on demographics, among a number of other things, but I’d be pleased to pour for a man who can hold forth so passionately on science in one column, and quote Voltaire in response to Ben Stein’s dumbassitude in another. I think we have a basis for conversation here. And at least in my cantina, no one’s going to torment you by gushing over the wonders of Expelled.

It’s possible you’ll run into a few Mexicans, mind. But you might find the brown people aren’t as scary as you seem to think.

Hell, I’d imagine even the flaming liberals in this cantina are preferable to what you’ve endured of late, eh?

¡Viva pensamiento racional!

Attention John Derbyshire: the Cantina is Open
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Fight ALL CAPS With ALL CAPS: Brilliant!

jacob2 Comments

I nearly got myself in trouble at work laughing my ass off. I was spelunking the comment thread on Carpetbagger’s “Conservative Ben Stein insists, ‘Science leads you to killing people’” post, enjoying the number of politically active people who are also wise to Intelligent Design’s antics. Right in the middle of it, I encounter this:

43. On May 1st, 2008 at 8:28 pm, Ashok said:

Ben Stein NEVER said “Science” is leading people to kill. either the author is dumb or he is a liar and deceiver with the intent to deceive all the sheep here that follow him deceived and stating that it is science that Ben Stein is attacking.

NO HE IS NOT ATTACKING SCIENCE.

BEN STEIN IS ATTEMPTING TO SHOW YOU IDIOTS THAT SCIENCE HAS BEEN HICKJACKED BY THE LIKES OF RICHARD DAWKINS AND THE OTHER STAUNCH EVOLUTIONISTS.

DO YOU UNDERSTAND???? SHALL I SPELL IT OUT AGAIN..

BEN STEIN OR THE INTELLIGENT DESIGN FOLKS ARE NOT AGAINST SCIENCE. THE INTELLIGENT DESIGN ARGUMENTS ARE SCIENTIFIC.

I have read many people write “why dont the proponents of intelligent design prove their arguements?” Well Duh… they have … and the proofs are out there.

Look familiar? Yepper. The old IDiot “I’m full of shit, so I have to USE ALL CAPS and MULTIPLE PUNCTUATION MARKS!!!! to prove HOW SERIOUS I AM” method. The only thing we were missing was the variety of fonts, and the pretty colors. No doubt we’d have had them if such things could be inserted in comments.

As PZ noted when the Expelled lackwits sent him an email:

Font size changes, random underlining, random color changes — it is so typical of creationist email. If I didn’t know that these gomers had millions of dollars at their disposal, I’d consider this to be yet another rant from a lone fruitcake living in his mother’s basement.

Notice too the palpable hysteria and desperation.

There must be some kind of creationist style manual out there, packaged at a bargain price along with the Wedge Document.

But the most beautiful thing came later, when a commenter turned creationist tactics against the cretin and posted this gorgeous smackdown:

49. On May 1st, 2008 at 11:51 pm, Nemodog said:

As stated by an Ashok,

“BEN STEIN OR THE INTELLIGENT DESIGN FOLKS ARE NOT AGAINST SCIENCE. THE INTELLIGENT DESIGN ARGUMENTS ARE SCIENTIFIC.”

O.K. folks, here is how the scientific method really works. It’s not a democracy. You don’t get a vote until you’ve had a basic (call it a BS) amount of scientific education from accredited (call it college for the U.S.) sources.

You get that? YOU DON’T GET A SAY AT ALL.

Now, once you’ve gotten your basic educational unit, and you have an idea (let’s call it a THESIS) you propose it, test it, and then try to convince those who have the same basic education that you’re not a
crack-pot.

We’ll call this PEER REVIEW. It’s brutal. NO ONE GETS A VOTE EXCEPT YOUR PEERS. THATS IT!

If the idea holds, you take it to the next level. You ‘challenge’ the next higher unit of learning (like people who have MS or PhDs) with your idea. They look at it, and you and your peers DON’T GET ANY VOTE AT ALL. If they think it’s stupid, the idea is completely and absolutely DESTROYED.

At this point, you have a few choices.

You can go back to school, studying under the next level, until you achieve an education in the next peer group. Then you get to vote with them.

You can rethink your idea and retest/experiment until you’re convinced that you’re right, and start at square one again.

You can slink off and tell everyone how ‘right’ you are, even though you are a crack-pot.

The issue with Intelligent Design is that it can’t be tested, and hasn’t even passed the first stage. Rather than accept that evolution has survived the peer review process for a long long time, the proponents have slunk off, and the scientific community thinks that they are basically crack-pots.

Now, personally, I suspect that you, Ashok, are in the crowd of people who don’t get a vote. I may be wrong, but I haven’t run across too many classically educated scientists who think these ideas stand even
the most basic examination.

So shush.


Nemodog fights ALL CAPS WITH ALL CAPS!!! Brilliant! And a most excellent explanation of how science works. Concise, snarky, and so pointed you could poke an IDiot’s eye out with it.

Fight ALL CAPS With ALL CAPS: Brilliant!

Would It Help If I Prayed?

jacob

Evangelical Christian: Oh, dear, how awful! I’ll pray for you!

Me: You’re going to get through this. Here’s what to expect, and here’s what you can do. You’re strong. You can make it.

That was my day, sans evangelical.

I work in a call center. There are times when I’m not taking orders or troubleshooting service: I’m playing therapist. It’s been that way for years. Most reps I know avoid that kind of talk, aside from “Wow, that sucks. Anything else?”

Not me.

I take some action, and I really have no idea why. After all, I’m an atheist, which means I have no love for my fellow human beings, no morals, and no desire to help anybody else, right? I mean, you have to be religious to be anything more than a selfish animal.

Funny, but it’s the atheists and other assorted heathens I’ve met who leap fastest when it comes to responding to need. There’s no agenda, just one human being caring for another, doing their best to help, because of empathy. They don’t need a sky daddy telling them they’d better do this or else. They don’t spend their time thinking of how they can use this person’s awful situation to bring them to God. They just jump in and assist, no strings.

And it’s hard.

Hard to sit there on the phone, listening while a person’s pain spills out.

Several years ago, I took a call from a man who needed to order business forms. His voice was dead, flat monotone. After a bit, I couldn’t stand it. Part of me was worried I’d done something inadvertantly awful, another part that my company had really pissed him off, and other bits suspected something worse.

The can of worms had to be opened. This couldn’t go on. Look, I’m a showman on the phone. I once had a woman call her husband to pick up the phone so he could hear how funny I was. If I can’t leave a person with a smile, I’ve failed. So I asked, “What’s wrong?”

Silence. A sigh. Finally, “You don’t want to hear my problems.”

Oh, well, when you put it like that: “Will it make you feel better to talk about it?”

Silence. Then, in a small voice, “Yes.”

“Then tell me.”

He proceeded to spill out the story of his life, which I won’t share here. Suffice it to say a country-western song couldn’t have gotten more morose. The man had suffered tragedy after tragedy after tragedy, and here he was, having to soldier on, ordering business forms.

As I sat there trying not to sniffle too loudly, he said, “Actually, I do feel better.” His voice took on life, and maybe a little hope. We completed his order. At least for that moment, I’d let him put the burden down, provided the sympathetic ear, and let him know about programs our company had to help out. Total strangers, but he’s stayed with me all these years.

There’s power in being there for someone, the unattached stranger, the listening ear, who has no agenda other than to try to make things a little better. I always justified it to my supervisors by saying there’s a good business reason: those people will never forget that our company provided a sympathetic listener when they needed to pour out their soul. They’ll never forget that someone was there for them. That’s how I get away with doing my little bit. It’s not the reason I do it. I truly do care for people. I want to give them the strength or release they need to carry on. Leave burden here. I may be a skinny little atheist, but I can help you carry it.

I did a lot of carrying this evening. And it wasn’t just a simple matter of letting someone speak, with a few sympathetic noises thrown in. This time, it was personal.

Again, no details, just a sketch: I spoke to a woman who had been assaulted over the weekend. She was asking me questions about her service, and the reason for that came tumbling out almost inadvertantly. Evidence needed. Fine. We deal with things like stolen phones. Have the police contact us, and we’ll take it from there.

Could have left it at that, but I whipped out the can opener, because I recognized the tone in her voice. I’d spoken like that once before. So traumatized, so shocked, that everything was unreal. A part of you is conducting business as if this is a normal transaction, and another part of you is screaming, How can this be real? How can the world still be this ordinary? Everything’s different. Doesn’t everything change?

I told her I’d been there. She clutched me like a life raft. We talked about what she was going through. I told her what steps to take, who to contact, what to expect. It gets better, I said, but first, you are going to go through these emotions, these fears. You’ve already done a lot of the right things. Here’s what else you can do. Never doubt yourself. Never blame yourself. You are strong – you’ve already proven that. You survived. You’ll come back from this, and things will never be the same, but they’ll get better. You have the strength to get through. And you have people you can rely on, reach out to, to make this easier.

I listened to what she’d been through, how her life had changed, and cheered her on. Every step she was taking was the right one. She needed to hear someone, a stranger who had walked that path, say these things to her, because she’d started getting crushed by doubt. Never doubt yourself, I said to her. You’ve already done all of the right things. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. You’re doing everything exactly right.

She left me nearly crying. I’ve spent most of tonight thinking about her, and wishing I could have done more, but I know I’ve provided her with the information she needs to get by. She’s not alone anymore. Someone who’s already been there has told her to have faith in herself. Someone who’s been there praised her strength and courage. Having been there, I can tell you that she is incredibly courageous, and that she needed to hear someone say that. No punches pulled: it’s horrible. It will be worse before it’s better. But she’s prepared for the hurdles now. And she knows that this is something she can come back from. She knows there’s a nearly normal life to look forward to.

I could have prayed for her. I would have done it if she’d asked. This atheist has, at times, prayed to a god she doesn’t believe in because the recipient of said prayers needed them. It tickles them: an atheist, praying on their behalf. The prayer goes like this: “God, I don’t believe in you, and I don’t believe you even exist. But this person does, and they needed me to talk to you for them, so here we are. God, I feel like a fool, but if it makes them feel better…”

She didn’t ask. She didn’t need prayers tonight: she needed assurance. She needed options. She needed a map to this horrorscape she’d been dumped in. All of these things, I could provide.

I know too many people who pray as if that’s all that needs to be done. Prayer can be a good thing. It can be a gesture of solidarity, an affirmation of purpose. It can steel you for action and it can help you find the strength you need to take that action. But I see too many people stop at prayer. They’re the kind who would have cut her off after the initial revelation by saying, “How awful! I’ll be praying for you.” And they would have expected that to be enough.

It wouldn’t.

Don’t leave it at a prayer. Take some action. Even if all you’re doing is listening actively, it’s still more than you would have done by just yammering at God.

Would It Help If I Prayed?

Let's Enjoy Ourselves

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Postdated so everybody gets a chance to join in the fun.

I’m needing a break from the constant fuckery. So for just a moment, let’s put rampant stupidity, political bullshit, and creationist nonsense aside. Grab yourself a drink, pull a chair up to the table, and weigh in:

1. What’s the best concert you’ve ever been to?

2. If you could travel the world with nary a care, where would you go?

3. Do you have a piece of jewelry, item of clothing, etc. that defines you?

4. What’s your favorite branch of science, and why?

5. What book completely changed your view of a person, place or culture?


Being the host, I get to go first. Woot!

1. Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers, Circus Mexicus 2003. A bunch of friends hustled me to Puerto Penasco, Mexico (Rocky Point, for all you Americanos), against my better judgement. That concert converted me into a rabid Peacemakers fan. We had the sea at our backs, the stars overhead, thousands of us packed into a dirt lot outside the Sunset Cantina, stuffed with Mexican food and tequila and singing ourselves hoarse with fireworks bursting overhead. I’ve never felt so in love with life. I’ve never been so unified with so many people before. That night, the Peacemakers became my all-time favorite band, I fell head-over-heels in love with Mexico, and found a new story. It was my Woodstock. Circus Mexicus happens twice a year, so you still have a chance!

2. The Mediterranean. I love the Sea of Cortez; I can only imagine how enthralled I’d be by the Med. I want to sail those wine-dark seas end to end. I want, in fact, to spend an entire year being nothing but a total tourista. The only problem is, the Peacemakers don’t play Europe. I’d have to spend my first six months converting the locals, and then we’d have to fly the Peacemakers in for a concert on the beach. Perfecto!

3. I’ve got two. Being a writer, there’s a story for both. I have a replica of the One Ring that hangs from a chain I got from Mexico (where else?). I’ve worn it for seven years now, because I made a promise that I would wear it for the rest of my life. Who did I promise and why are writer things that I’ll save for another day. It was joined in May 2004 by a grain of rice with my pen name that I acquired in Mexico. The grain of rice is in honor of a Peacemakers song, of course. The pen name is a reminder to myself that the daily bullshit ultimately doesn’t matter: the writing is all. It’s a useful thing to clutch when I want to strangle someone in the corporate world.

4. Physics, with an emphasis on quantum mechanics and astrophysics. Yes, I do yammer on about biology sometimes, but my adoration of science started with a book called Space, Time, Infinity by James S. Trefil. I think I was all of six when I read it. From astronomy, I stepped off into astrophysics, and also started dancing with the Dancing Wu Li Masters (you serious scientists can stop sneering, it’s a great little book on both philosophy and quantum physics). I’m one of the only people I know who considers curling up with Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time a relaxing and entertaining experience.

5. The Walking Drum by Louis L’Amour. Yes, that Louis L’Amour. The guy who wrote Westerns, indeed. I’d had no idea before I read that book that we had the Islamic world to thank for our culture, our science, and baths. While Christian Europe languished, culture and learning thrived in Moorish Spain and other areas under Muslim rule. 11th century Cordoba enthralled me. It opened my eyes to the fact that Islam had at one time been progressive, its civilization cutting-edge, glittering and beautiful and a lot less smelly than soap-averse Europe. I find it a tragedy that the fundamentalist bastards destroyed that civilization. I find it an outrage that most Americans have no idea that we owe so much to Islamic civilization.

There you have it. Your turn, now. Enjoy!

Let's Enjoy Ourselves

Happy Hour Discurso

jacob

Today’s opining on the public discourse.

Looks like Lurita Doan has some interesting ideas as to why she was fired:

In an e-mail to Government Executive at 4:20 a.m. on Wednesday, Doan said a dispute over whistleblower complaints filed last year by four former IG attorneys “remains an enormously serious issue, which I still believe ought to be addressed … I would rather get fired for something I believe in, and a cause I was willing to fight for, rather than to believe in nothing worth being fired for.”

[snip]

Doan blamed Miller for her problems at GSA, arguing that the IG was retaliating against her for attempting to cut his budget and increase oversight of his office.

In a statement, [GSA Inspector General Brian] Miller said, “We hope that this change at GSA will enable everyone in the agency to work more closely together now in focusing on important tasks. Doing the very best for American taxpayers should be our common goal.”

Doan’s unconventional tactics were on display last Wednesday at a GSA conference in Anaheim, Calif. At a dinner sponsored by a contractor trade group, she appeared on stage with arrows sticking out of her head, shoulders, arms and legs, according to a transcript of the speech posted on GSA’s Web site. Using the arrows to illustrate her challenges at GSA, Doan said she had been taking shots from the media, Congress and those who represented the “status quo.”

While neither GSA nor the White House would provide a reason for Doan’s dismissal, her ucensored public statements and involvement in the Miller case had clearly become a ditraction.


Isn’t it adorable how Republicons caught doing wrong suddenly become poor, persecuted, misunderstood folks just crusading for just causes? Nothing to do with corruption at all.

Continuing along the “making friends and influencing people” continuum, John McCain’s winning public relations points today after Capitol Police arrested a bunch of wheelchair-bound folks who wanted to discuss a few minor healthcare issues with him:

WASHINGTON – At least 20 disabled activists, most of them in wheelchairs, were arrested outside Sen. John McCain’s offices Tuesday after being refused a meeting with the GOP presidential nominee-to-be over a bill to expand Medicaid coverage to more people who want in-home care.

[snip]

Capitol Police Sgt. Kimberly Schneider said about 20 people from the group were arrested outside McCain’s office in the Russell Senate Office Building on Tuesday and charged with unlawful assembly.

Well, I was wondering which Constitutional right would be the next to go. Apparently, freedom of assembly is right out now. Take note, ye paraplegics: you’re now fair game.

Of course, you can always pray for your release after getting bundled off to jail for exercising your Constitutional rights. There’s plenty of official government prayer days to choose from:

It’s not a widely recognized “holiday,” but today is the official National Day of Prayer. (Ironically, the NDP and “Law Day” fall on the same day.) The name is rather self-explanatory: It’s a day, set aside by law, in which the federal government encourages the nation to pray. And if you’re thinking it’s none of the government’s business whether you pray or not, we’re on the same page.

The problem is obviously not with worship, but with government involvement. On principle alone, the idea that there’s an official “holiday” in which government promotes and encourages prayer is just odd in a country in which the state is supposed to be neutral when it comes to religion.

For a while, I was keeping track of just how many days Bush set aside as official government prayer days. About two years ago, I counted 25 — more than any other president in American history — and I assume by now he’s topped 30. (If you search the White House website for “day of prayer,” you get nearly 70,000 results.)

This, my darlings, is what happens when we let a born-again narcissistic numbskull get his grubby hands on the White House.

How long is it ’till January, again?

Happy Hour Discurso

Bashing the Gay-Bashers

jacob1 Comment

It’s time to turn from IDiots, pollyticks, religion and lack thereof for a bit and mount a different horse entirely. This one likes to give the homophobic elements in our society a good, sharp kick, and he’s been getting a bit restive. There’s so many gay-bashers to bash.

I utterly cannot stand the anti-gay bigotry in our country.

I can’t state that strongly enough. Of all the elements of fundamentalist religion I despise, the whole “gays are evil” thing sticks a blasting cap in my magazine of rage and blows it sky-high. It’s ignorant and ridiculous to argue against evolution on religious grounds. It’s repulsive to condemn someone’s harmless sexual orientation – I was about to say for religious reasons, but no. It’s repulsive to do it for any reason.

Many of my most cherished friends have been gay or lesbian. I don’t want to paint a whole group of people with the same brush, but they’ve been almost without exception the warmest, sweetest, and most fun people I’ve ever had the honor of knowing.

Some of my most respected supervisors were homosexual. It did not matter one fucking iota that they were attracted to people of the same sex.

It enrages me to think that these people that I’ve loved and admired have faced prejudice and condemnation simply for not being heterosexual. What the fuck does it matter?

I’ve run into the attitudes sometimes. I had a customer go into an anti-gay diatribe, and finish by saying, “I do business with your company because there’s no lesbians.” I nearly swallowed my tongue laughing. The poor retarded bigot had no fucking clue that we had everything he hated: gay-friendly policies and benefits, plenty of gays and lesbians on staff, and a hell of a lot of homosexuals in management. He was dealing with one of the most gay-friendly businesses I’d ever worked for. I think he realized from that choking sound I was making that he’d maybe misjudged just a bit. He hung up before I could tell him, “Actually, my supervisor’s a lesbian, and we all love her dearly.” Too bad.

Luckily, no fuckwit has ever aired his or her bigotry to my face. I tend to get a little incandescent when I’m off the clock.

Being a homebody, I don’t go in much for the parades and other such displays of solidarity. I probably should. But I’m not shy about making it abundantly clear that gay-bashing won’t be tolerated, and I’ve administered some firm correctives to acquaintences who have started to go there, which is probably why it’s never turned to open war. Amazing how rapidly prejudiced dickheads shut up when they’ve thrown out their little test lines and gotten a cold response, innit?

But that’s not enough. There’s been some spectacular anti-gay fuckwittery lately, and as the National Day of Silence is over, I think it’s time for me to unleash here. It’s not just creationists and politicians who deserve my wrath.

We start here:

Here’s one of the more outrageous stories you’ll hear today. A high school principal in Memphis heard that two students were a gay couple and she posted their names where everyone could see it:

In September of 2007, the principal at Hollis F. Price Middle College High told teachers she wanted the names of all student couples, “hetero and homo,” because she wanted to monitor them personally to prevent students from engaging in public displays of affection.

The two students now represented by the ACLU, Andrew and Nicholas (who have asked that their last names not be revealed), were two A students who had been seeing each other for a short time and were attempting to keep their relationship quiet and private.

The principal heard about them through another student, then wrote their names on a list she posted next to her desk, in full view of anyone who entered her office.


That’s fucked-up in so many different ways I don’t even know where to start. What the fuck is a principal doing making lists of couples in the first place? Where the fuck does she get off posting it in open view? As if that weren’t sick enough, she then called the mother of one of the gay students and harangued her, asking if she knew her son was gay. She said she wouldn’t tolerate homosexuality at her school. These students were singled out for abuse and harrassment due to her actions. One of them was denied a trip to help rebuild homes in New Orleans because he was told he might embarrass the school.

This kind of attitude is absolutely beyond the pale in this country. It’s as bad as racism. And people still get killed because some mouth-breathers react with violence:

At 8:15 a.m. on Feb. 12, 15-year-old Lawrence King was shot twice in the head as he sat at a computer in his school’s computer lab in southern California. The gunman was classmate Brandon McInerney, and the two knew each other well. According to friends of both young men, King, who was openly gay, was frequently tormented by classmates, including McInerney. To get back at him, King — who often wore makeup to school — flirted with McInerney, turning the tables on the homophobic remarks he endured daily.

But as the bullying and flirting escalated, and McInerney became bullied himself, he snapped and shot King. Students and community members say the shooting was motivated by anti-gay bias.


This needs to stop. And the only way it’s going to come close to stopping is if each and every one of us combats the “God hates gays” mentality that makes it seem justified to put two bullets in a human being’s head because he flirted with you.

There’s far too much enabling bullshit in this country. Parents throw fits over children’s books that portray gays as decent, ordinary people – bullshit. Homophobic pastors organize protests against the National Day of Silence – bullshit. Anti-gay legislation being pushed in the name of “protecting marriage” – bullshit.

I’ve had it with bullshit. Expect more bashing of gay-bashers. Much, much more.

Bashing the Gay-Bashers

National Day of God-Bothering

jacob1 Comment

I’m likely to offend some of you here. A few may think that an atheist has no right to opine on prayer. So let me just start by saying: I held many of these views when I was a Bible basher. They haven’t changed much since I became an atheist. Besides, in my cantina, I will speak my mind on the subjects of the day. It being the National Day of Prayer, the subject of the day is prayer.

Prayer annoys the bugfuck out of me and always has.

I remember praying once as a child. My father was late getting home. He had a long commute, the roads had iced up, snow was pouring down, and I was terrified he’d gotten in an accident. My mom was frantically calling people, trying to find out: had his plane taken off? Landed? Had he left the airport? I couldn’t do those things. All I could do was run to my room, beg God to spare my Daddy, and go tearing back into the living room to try to figure out what was going on from my mom’s side of the conversation.

Christians would say it worked. Daddy came home that night. Considering how many other daddies don’t come home despite their daughters’ fervent prayers, though, I don’t think praying did anything more than give me the illusion of doing something constructive.

We started each school day with a moment of silence. I can’t remember how old I was when I found out it was for prayer, but I remember having my head down on the desk and thinking, “But I don’t want to pray.” I never did. Prayer seemed too noisy. I liked just sitting there with my head on my arms in that warm moment of quiet before learning. A minute wasn’t enough, really. I could’ve done with a good hour. If I’d known about zazen back then, I’d probably have taken that moment to meditate. I never saw much point in bothering God daily.

Never saw much point in the Pledge of Allegiance, comes to that, but that’s a story for another day.

So.

I went through a brief period in high school where I fell under the sway of a charismatic church, and I prayed. But it bothered me. What was I praying for? Didn’t God have enough to do without listening to me whine? And why the hell were these other people so proud of themselves – “I prayed for a red car, and God gave it to me!!” I’d think, No, He fucking well didn’t. You wanted a red car, you shopped, you financed, and lo! you have a red car. Good for you, you fuckwit. I’m sure God was happy to grant that prayer while kids starved to death in Africa.

The longer I stayed in the church, the more annoyed I got. It seemed that trivial prayers far outnumbered the weighty. We’d pray for people to find God (He’s right there, dumbass. It’s not like He’s hard to find), pray for this or that gotta-have-it thing of the week, pray for rain, pray for sun, pray pray pray for more more more. Prayer, in fact, was reduced to something like this: “God, please gimme this. You’re awesome if you do. Thanks!” We all sounded like teenagers, wheedling the latest in prestige items from a parent with a mixture of pleading, promises, and provisional praise.

Didn’t God get a bit tired of all this shit?

Time passed. I soon broke with the church over their shallow obsessions, discovered that the vast majority of American churches were no better, struck off on my own, and for reasons that will someday become clear, turned agnostic. I didn’t pray anymore, unless you count the idiom of “Oh, God, please make it stop” counts. As I hadn’t addressed the envelope, I doubted those pseudo-prayers ever landed in God’s mailbox. I sincerely hoped not, anyway. I was certain He got enough junk mail as it was.

It was during my agnostic phase that I had a dream:

In the dream, it was night, and I was on a train travelling up the Pacific coast. I’d wandered into the empty dining car to watch the trees go by in the full moonlight. And I was just starting to wax really lyrical on the sight when a man who looked a bit like Danny Glover walked into the dining car. At three in the morning.

Here he is, in a suit, carrying a briefcase and a cup of coffee, and there I am, standing there in jeans and a heavy metal t-shirt.

I turned and looked at him. He set his coffee down on one of the tables and sat beside it, one hand on the briefcase, the other over the top of the cup to keep its contents from splashing out while the train jigged its way down the tracks. He smiled at me. And it was a smile of such serenity, such love and contentment and peace, that I knew instantly that all of those folks who worshipped God as the Great White Father were in for a shock.

And yes, I did think, “Oh, my God, it’s God.”

And I felt like a runny-nosed little kid. And I wondered if my sneakers were untied. And I started to feel ashamed, but he kept smiling, and I knew I was just fine exactly as I was. Oh, the relief! I sat down in the booth opposite, and wondered what a heavy-metal agnostic chick and God talked about in a dining car at three a.m.

I never did find out. Right at that moment, I felt a breathtaking rage rise right up through me. It came from below. It surged up through my shoes and thighs and bottom and roared its way through my body like an andesitic eruption. I’d never felt so much vicious hate, such incandescent anger, in my entire existence. And it was all focused on God, who was still sitting there with one hand over his coffee cup and the other over his briefcase, smiling at me.

A few very important things struck me at that instant. I realized that God was bumming around in mortal guise, very vulnerable. That alien animosity I felt was Satan, getting ready to use me to kill God. And I didn’t think I could stop it.

I fought to keep it contained. Begged God with my eyes and my mind to please do something, don’t let this happen, don’t let me be the instrument of your destruction. You know what the fucker did? Sat there smiling. He wasn’t going to do jack shit to save himself. It was up to me.

So I got pissed. Maybe the lazy bastard deserved a good smiting, if He wasn’t going to help this poor helpless mortal, but it wasn’t going to happen through me. The rage and the hate nearly scoured me away, but fraction by fraction, I fought it down. Pushed it out. Get thee behind me, Satan, because God may not be lending a hand but my will is more than enough here. And slowly, sweating, shaking, I won that battle.

I sat there glowering at God. God sat there smiling at me. I was about to open my mouth to ream Him for a lazy, useless bastard when His smile changed. Pride and love poured over me like premium tequila. He gave me this satisfied little nod. Of course. He hadn’t lifted a hand to help me because He’d known I could do it all by myself. He’d had complete confidence in me all along.

That felt amazing.

Needless to say, I woke up a little bemused, and maybe a wee bit more agnostic than usual. I’ve often thought of that dream over the years, when people have bragged about the results of their prayers, how God had helped them. Bullshit, I’ve wanted to say. God won’t lift a finger to help you. Why should He? If you believe He created us, it shouldn’t be much of a stretch to understand that He gave us the power to help ourselves. It’s up to us to use it.

We’re not children anymore, utterly helpless to do anything but pray. There comes a time when you can’t go running to Big Daddy for every little thing.

I can’t understand that mentality. I truly can’t. The religious sorts talk
about their omnipotent, omniscient God, they pray for things, and they expect results. How self-absorbed is that? How petty, how weak.

I see people who ignore the gifts they’ve been given. If you’re a believer, you believe God created the universe and all that’s in it. Then why not believe that God expects you to use all of those things you’ve been given to make your own way? Is He really such a control freak that He can’t let you stand or fall on your own?

Does He really give two shits if you get that promotion or not? When Jones is praying for God to smite Smith, and Smith is praying for same, how is God supposed to answer? Why the hell pester Him over the petty bullshit?

I thought it when I was a Christian. I thought so as an agnostic. I think that even more so as an atheist: why should God help you when you’re perfectly capable of helping yourself?

And doesn’t it mean more when you accomplish it yourself?

The devout pray-ers don’t seem to think so. “Let go and let God!” they say. Willful helplessness. Determined to stay a child forever. And I don’t think that serves God or human beings.

I don’t pray anymore, of course. But if I did, I wouldn’t be praying for the petty things. I wouldn’t be praying for handouts. I’d be praying, “God, I’m about to try this. I hope it works. Wish me luck.”

Because He’s not going to do it for us. It’s up to us. Prayer is not a good substitute for action. Ask those parents whose kids have died because they won’t summon medical help, but prayed for a miracle instead. Look, God gave you the miracle. It’s called a hospital. How stupid of you to reject it.

Praying for world peace is a nice sentiment. It’s not going to create it. People going out and working themselves to exhaustion might.

Praying for an end to hunger, to disease, to pollution, won’t do half as much as engaging in the science and the activities that can solve those things.

I’m an atheist. I don’t pray. That doesn’t mean I believe prayer has no place. It’s a great and useful thing for the faithful, if put to good use. It’s a mission statement. It’s a focus. But it’s just empty words if you don’t follow up, right?

On this National Day of Prayer, you can pray for handouts. Or you can pray, “God, we’re about to try something big here. Wish us luck.”

And then join up with us atheists, and let’s get stuff done.

Update: PZ Myers has less kind things to say, and the Minnesota Atheists have declared this the National Day of Reason. I likes! I celebrates! The National Day of Reason it is!

National Day of God-Bothering