I had this kind of sad, kind of sentimental thought a little while ago, and I haven’t been able to shake it.
I was thinking about the so-called “new atheist” movement. About atheist books on the bestseller lists. About atheism being widely and hotly discussed in magazines and newspapers and TV talk shows. About atheists coming out of the closet in ever-increasing numbers. About the atheist blogosphere, with hundreds of blogs on the atheist blogrolls.
And I was thinking:
(The “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” author, for those who aren’t instantly familiar with his name.)
He would have loved all this. He would have been so excited, so proud, so happy. He was a big atheist, proud and angry and fierce, and he would have loved all this. Maybe he would have written his own atheist book. I want to read that book. It would have been smart, and hilarious, and totally devastating.
And he was a big techno-nerd. He would have loved the blogosphere, and he would have completely loved the atheist blogosphere. He would have had the best atheist blog ever.
Dammit to hell. I want to read Douglas Adams’ atheist blog. Right now. I want it in my blogroll. I want to comment on it, and to get into silly comment threads on it that never seem to end. I want to check it obsessively every day to see if there’s something new.
I miss him something awful.