Happy Blasphemy Day

Blasphemy Day is important. Not for offending people, but for celebrating the right to speak without fear that such an offense can land you in jail, or worse. Political speech often offends me, but the rough-and-tumble of open political debate is a good thing. When we coddle ideas, we allow bad ones to flourish. Religious speech is, and should be, protected in the same sense that political speech is. This includes religious speech that the listener disagrees with. A day to celebrate this idea? I like it. More after the jump:

Calloo, Callay! It’s blasphemy day!
When we tug on the beard of the prophet;
When we say to the pope, “you’re a miserable dope;
That ex cathedra chair? Just get off it!”
We point out that god is an impotent sod–
If indeed we assume god exists–
Just a vanishing fable, forever unable
To step from mythology’s mists.
Here’s your chance to express what you think of this mess;
If you haven’t before, you should try it!
If you try just one bite, just one blaspheme, you might
Find a welcome new dish for your diet!

The first amendment means, to me,
The right to play at blasphemy;
The right to say “There is no God”
Without the threat of firing squad.
To speak, or sing, or draw, or write
And not be paralyzed with fright.
To mock Jehovah if I wish;
To point and laugh at Jesus fish;
And though the image strikes me weird,
To pluck Mohammed’s silly beard.
To say such things as I may choose
Regardless of opposing views.

About the pow’r of Holy Writ
I proudly do not give a shit.


  1. Joan says

    The Walrus’s Prayer
    With apologies to Lewis Carroll

    “The time has come,” the Walrus said,
    “To talk of many things:
    Of shoes–and ships–and sealing-wax–
    Of cabbages–and kings–
    And why the sea is boiling hot–
    And whether pigs have wings.”

    Said walrus to the Carpenter
    There will be some discourse.
    The sea seems rather tepid now.
    It may one day get worse.

    And yes, we know that pigs can’t fly.
    Someday perhaps they will.
    But currently they’re here on earth,
    Well grounded, eating swill.

    I’d like to differentiate
    Tween things that are corporeal
    And those which dwell in metaphor
    Meant more to be pictorial.

    These cabbages can be consumed.
    A taste I do not favor.
    But real they are, though I prefer
    A food of different flavor.

    Shoes and ships, we know of.
    These are never phasmagorical
    And have not been been predicted
    By divinity or oracle.

    I have seen kings and sealing wax.
    One thought I can’t resist
    Seems I’m speaking to a Carpenter
    I know does not exist.

    (Had their really been a Carpenter,
    You might have heard Him squawk,
    “Well, perhaps I am not real.
    But then now walruses can’t talk.” )

    Cuttle, The meter is rather uneven. It kept breaking into Gilbert and Sullivan, rather than Lewis Carroll, as it went along. Thank you for that. (Grin)

  2. says

    I opened my eyes this Blasphemy Day
    It’s a wondrous new day.
    Confused as I am as
    I remove my pajamas,
    to find myself waking
    O’er someone’s god I’m forsaking
    by refusing to kneel down and pray
    so they say.

    I’ve heard there’s a “Word”
    such a wonderful “Word”
    about some kind of zombie
    with a federal lobby
    and his father’s quite a belligerent Turd.

    O’er wine and a curd
    I looked up the Turd
    and found the “Word” was completely absurd
    and the zombie’s lobby
    had a hobby
    keeping reality blurred.

    The Bible, they tell me
    is a ticket from Hell, see?
    From where the Turd and his zombie son
    will spare us each and everyone
    if we drop to our knees,
    swallow their disease,
    and hand over the keys
    to our minds.

    looking through my opened eyes
    I can see through the zombie lobby’s lies
    and hear the innocent children’s cries
    over the Turd’s buzzing flies.
    I shout at all you girls and guys
    possessing all the traits of the wise
    keep on asking all of those why’s
    and soon we’ll clean up religion’s sties.


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