Man, this year has been rough. I have barely found the motivation to work on my manuscripts, let alone come up with a topic for the ol’ blog here. My apologies to my loyal Gidsciples who believed me to be dead after several months of radio silence. (Again.) Rest assured, I am still alive, devilishly handsome, and full of stuff to talk about. I guess it’s time for me to put on pants, and come down from the ol’ Golden Pedestal to discuss stuff.
Author’s Note: Any claims that I’m “full of stuff to talk about” are bordering on complete bullshit.
So, quick update: our president has lost the re-election, (after going steadily more and more mad,) had caught the COVID-19 he denied at the start of the outbreak, and managed to still be a dick the entire time. He’s tried to interfere with an election he knew he’d lose, and at one point, threatened to withhold pandemic relief checks until he won the election, immediately back-peddled under public outcry, and refused any online debates. He only wanted to debate in person.
…Y’know; despite being infectious with a highly contagious death plague. Unfortunately, this death plague, (which has killed over two hundred sixty-five thousand people as of this writing,) refused to show us the decency of destroying a monster, and becoming the unexpected heel-face hero of 2020. That’s really all the catching up I care to do. Until things change; evil lives to oppress us another day.
Speaking of horrible things done by a nightmare man composed entirely of fake tan and hot garbage, back on June 1st, during the height of “Black Lives Matter” rioting and protesting, this indescribable numbskull had military forces tear gas a crowd of people away from a church, so that he could have a cute little publicity photo op, holding up a bible in so many unusual ways which let the world know he didn’t know how books operated.
So, that happened, and he did it all to suck up to his religious constituents. He apparently felt it important to show those of faith that, hey—he knew what bibles were, and he also knew someone who could Google search a church location for him; right before loading up an assault team to let loose on a crowd of peaceful people with tear gas. Y’know… in the spirit of Jesus, and the holy ghost and all that shit.
Now, while It’s always fun to openly mock America’s unquestionably stupidest president for being grossly incompetent when operating a very commonplace object which has existed since the dawn of time, (and grossly incompetent when being a president in general,) this scenario does lead me to something I would like to talk about today:
I don’t care what you choose to believe in, but your gods are made up, and I’m tired of humoring people otherwise.
How can I say that? Because the mere point that you don’t know for certain is why your religions are called “beliefs,” and not “knowing-for-realsies.” Now keep in mind, I’m not saying that there isn’t some mysterious higher power in the universe. I don’t know there isn’t, because until they reveal themselves, it’s impossible for anyone to know that. But, your version of a god (or gods,) was literally made up by early man, who believed things, (back when we didn’t have a whole lot of science to explain them,) so they wrote those things down in a book, or a scroll, or carved them into stone tablets, and said, “There. The thing I believe exists, because I say it is true, and I believe it to be so.” Then, they talked a bunch of other scientifically-impaired people into believing the thing they just made up, and since nobody could say, “Hey, man. That burning bush probably wasn’t talking to you, but you might be a schizophrenic,” people just went ahead and believed things which couldn’t be disproven; and therein lies part of the problem:
Faith is almost impossible to disprove, so it is frequently mistaken for truth.
Being unable to disprove something is not the same as that thing being true. It’s simply not. An easy example of this is for me to point to an empty tabletop, and say, “Hey, there’s an invisible, intangible, ice cold glass of beer on that table.” If you look at that empty table and say, “Um, no there isn’t,” and I turn right around and say, “IT’S THERE BECAUSE I BELIEVE IT IS; PROVE ME WRONG, ASSHOLE,” how would you proceed? Does the sheer power of my belief in this phantom beer make it exist?
No. It absolutely doesn’t.
When someone makes a ridiculous claim about invisible beer on a table, the burden of proof falls onto the person making the ridiculous claim. It’s my responsibility, as the person telling everyone about transparent malt beverages, to demonstrate beyond a doubt that the Miraculous Hops do in fact exist. If I say the invisible beer is also responsible for everything around us coming into existence, I have to demonstrate that. I can’t just wave around the room and say, “EVERYTHING EXISTS, DOESN’T IT? WELL, THE GREAT INVISIBLE BEER DID THAT! PROVE ME WRONG NOW, ASSHOLE!” Now, some of you are thinking, “Oh, but if the Great Invisible Beer made everything, and everything is here, that’s proof, right asshole?”
Author’s Note: People who believe in the Great Invisible Beer call non-believers “asshole” a lot. Usually because they’re angry when they’re drunk and believing in something deeply stupid.
No, sorry, drunken believer—that’s not proof. That’s arguing coincidence as causality. It’s like saying global warming is caused by a lack of dragons. We have global warming, and decidedly few dragons; so clearly the two go hand-in-hand, right? Here’s another example of non-causality: The crime rate continues to increase in my neighborhood, and I continue to not write any amazing Motown hits. If someone told me that I need to start writing the new wave of Motown songs if I want peace to shine in my little slice of the ghetto, I’d tell them they were fucking insane; and if they aren’t insane, I’m really letting down world peace with my inherent lack of bass guitar skills, and whatever cool instrument makes that sweet-ass “wakka-ju-wakka” noise.
When someone says “proof of God is all around you,” I want you to think about the skyrocketing crime rate in my Motown-starved neighborhood, and our environmentally damaging lack of dragons. “Everything Exists” isn’t proof of a higher power. In reality, the argument could also be made that the existence of everything equally supports belief in the Great Invisible Beer, and His Miraculous Hops. If anything, the higher power you know and worship was invented to explain why everything exists, from a time when we were still figuring out the world around us, and we didn’t know anything about anything.
The fact that this started so long ago, and has been upheld for so long, is also part of the problem. When you’re raised from birth to believe in the Great Invisible Beer, and His Miraculous Hops, you don’t question it. It falls right into the same mentality as “C is the third letter of the English alphabet,” and “the average person doesn’t like being punched in the face while sitting on the toilet.” It also makes it infinitely harder to take that hard, skeptical introspective look at a lifelong belief, and saying to yourself, “What if everything I was raised to believe to be true is actually just a bunch of shit some non-science guy made up a long time ago, and I’ve been force-fed the Kool-Aid ever since?”
Author’s Note: Nobody needs to be force-fed Kool-Aid, despite Kool-Aid Man’s existence to the contrary. That stuff is delicious.
You ever see nerds hanging out with each other? They bond over the things they like. Comic books, video games, Magic: The Gathering, Dungeons & Dragons, Marvel movies; the list is endless. Back when I was a kid, in 19XX, geeks and nerds were not the celebrated thing they are today. When I was a kid, if you had a geeky passion, you found other geeks who shared it. If you talked about your favorite spells from the Dungeonmaster’s Guidebook to the wrong people, you were quickly mocked, shunned, stuffed into a locker, or hung from the school flagpole by your underpants. Some kids simply got the shit beaten out of them, because it required less heavy lifting or pulley operation.
But then, the bruised and battered nerds go and hang out with their equally-mocked friends and fellow nerds, and things were great again. Here, they felt comradery. Here, they belonged. Here, it was perfectly fine if you told your buddies you thought the best spell in the book was Magic Missile. It’s not, but it was fine if you thought that. There’d be heated debate about Magic Missile vs. Fireball, (Fireball is clearly better, Steve—come on,) but you weren’t going to be shunned or beaten for having that belief. Fuck the outside world. They sucked, your friends didn’t; it was way better hanging out with them arguing which 16-bit Street Fighter II character was the best one to jack off to. Cammy.
Why do I bring up nerds? Because religions are crafted in a way that just happens to mirror the life of an openly-bullied geek; except instead of having heated discussions about whether or not Goku could beat Superman in a fight, (he can’t,) or which Star Trek character is the hottest, (Original series Doctor McCoy, obviously,) religious groups have regular meetings to keep you reminded that your deity exists, and shame on you if you aren’t living your life the way that your religious texts tell you to live. They fill your mind up with these beliefs, (many of them as ridiculous as the idea of Goku beating Superman in a fight, because come on,) and they send you out into the world to spread the word. “Tell the non-believers! Tell everyone! God is great, and the non-believers are way better off believing in Him than if they don’t! Go on, shoo! We’ll see you in a week.”
So, you go out, and live your life the way you’ve been told, and tell the non-believers about your beliefs. But then—surprise!—the non-believers look at you like you’re just a little bit crazy, and say, “Uh, yeah, sure. That certainly is a thing you seem to believe. Whatever works for you, I guess, but it’s not my thing.” So, you go back to your weekly brainwashing renewal religious service, and tell your handler religious leader, “Hey, I went out and told the non-believers about how they’re better off with God in their lives, and they acted like I was crazy.” To which, you are told, “Well, don’t you worry about them. You’re not crazy, and we still love you, because you believe in the same thing we do.”
Well, now you’ve got a renewed sense of belonging; just like the geeks with their friends! Sure, the people you spoke to didn’t believe what you had to say about The Lord, but your friends back in your church community sure do! What a wonderful feeling, to feel like we belong. It’s something everyone wants; that feeling that you aren’t alone in the world. That can’t be a bad thing, right? The church gives you that feeling! Yay, God!
…Except, that’s exactly that feeling which most religions use to keep their followers. Guilt if you don’t believe, love and belonging if you do. This is one of the things that I dislike greatly about organized religion. It’s control and power, disguised as acceptance and unconditional love; and I can’t think of anything more despicable than that. (Aside from gassing a crowd away from a church to show people you’re hip with the Lord.)
It all boils down to power. The churches and major religions out there, unfortunately, have a lot of power. Power over you, power over how they command your morality, how you live your life, and power to push other groups into doing what they want, based on the fact that religion is treated like an untouchable truth; a facet every human being should have in their lives, whether they want it there or not—because you’ve been programmed to believe that “God is everywhere, and in everything,” and shame on you for thinking otherwise. You need to live the way the church says, or you’re going to some form of Hell forever.
When believers are told, “act the way you’re told, or burn forever,” they’re so afraid, that they are going to act the way they’re told. This means they aren’t actually living the life they choose for themselves; they’re living the palatable option the church gives them. People aren’t living their lives, because they’ve been raised to believe that, if they act outside the bounds of the rules of the Great Invisible Beer and His Miraculous Hops, that they are going to suffer, and be tortured for eternity. For many believers, the only real damnation they’re experiencing is wasting their only time on this planet depriving themselves of guilt-free enjoyment of their lives.
To be clear: I’m not saying you shouldn’t believe in something. Some people need to believe in something, because the idea of oblivion is straight-up horrifying. They need an afterlife promise, or a reincarnation guarantee. If that’s what you need in order to function, then good for you! Go with my blessing. But, you shouldn’t be afraid to look at it with a skeptical eye. You shouldn’t be afraid to question something you’re being told is true, when there is no evidence to support that truth.
But above all else, when your belief system involves forcing others to believe the way that you would have them believe, that’s where I draw the line. When you tell someone that some invisible man, made up by a non-scientist centuries ago in a haze of ignorance, should dictate someone else’s lifestyle, or bodily autonomy, that’s where you and I are going to have a big fucking problem.
I was reading an article the other day about a teacher in France, Samuel Paty, who was murdered in October by a religious terrorist for showing cartoon images of Muhammad to his students. He asked the students who may be offended by such images to leave the class first, if they wanted, but parents were still upset. The religious terrorist paid kids to identify the teacher, and he went off and murdered him. Samuel Paty was stabbed and beheaded. The murderer was gunned down by French Police.
Let that sink in: Two people died, because someone was offended over a cartoon of a mythical religious figure, that nobody was forced to look at.
Sometimes religious devotion seems to override common sense and decency. I’ve literally seen people die, because their religions were against medical treatments which could have saved their lives. One woman’s husband couldn’t even overrule the church and approve the treatment she needed. This controversial treatment she needed? A simple blood transfusion. She’s dead now. Her husband is a widower, even though he tried to save her. He had no legal recourse to take, while her church said, “nope,” and let their follower die. Again, all for appeasing a made-up being they can’t prove exists; they just really, really believe it does.
I’ve seen people during this pandemic believe that “Jesus Christ is their facemask,” and He will spare them. (Clearly not, since we’ve hit such a high death toll, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t because the dead didn’t believe in the Lord enough.) Bishop Gerald Glenn said, “God is bigger than this dreaded virus,” and that virus killed him in April. Did an evangelical bishop not believe in the Lord enough? Or was this part of the “mysterious ways” we’re told God works in?
Author’s Note: I’m jealous I didn’t invent “the Lord works in mysterious ways.” I can’t think of a better spackle to fill in plot holes than that, and the Bible is chock full of them.
I have personally married people that some religions say should not be together, for two reasons—race and orientation. (Shout out to my boys, by the way. Hope I did a good enough job for you. I was proud to be asked.) Any religion that claims to be about love, and then tells two people that they shouldn’t be allowed to love is a horrible religion, and needs to go fuck itself. Repeat after me:
No matter what your personal belief is, it only applies to you, and does not have power or authority over anyone else.
That applies to me, too. I’m not forcing any of you to question what you believe; that’s up to you to decide. All I can hope for is that this message will reach whoever needs it, and that they’ll have the courage to peek out from under the blindfold of their devotion to make sure they aren’t walking off a cliff. If you need a belief, that’s great. If you truly believe your religion is the right one, that’s all on you. But remember that it is yours. Others may share it, others may not. But whatever you believe in, or don’t believe in, try to be a good person. You can have a solid moral compass without religion, or threat of eternal damnation; I have a healthy set of morals, and I don’t personally know any atheists who don’t. One of my favorite quotes is from Penn Jillette:
“The question I get asked by religious people all the time is, without God, what’s to stop me from raping all I want? And my answer is: I do rape all I want. And the amount I want is zero. And I do murder all I want, and the amount I want is zero. The fact that these people think that if they didn’t have this person watching over them that they would go on killing, raping rampages is the most self-damning thing I can imagine. I don’t want to do that. Right now, without any god, I don’t want to jump across this table and strangle you. I have no desire to strangle you. I have no desire to flip you over and rape you.”
So, if you take anything away from this rant of biblical proportion, let it be this: you can question your gods, and still be a good person. So, while I certainly can’t force you to do it, I can implore you to take a good, hard look at your faith. Do it on your own, without anyone else’s opinion. What you believe should only be subject to your opinions, and your choice to believe whatever you choose. For those of you who like commandments, here’s three:
Don’t be a good person just because you’re afraid of punishment from the Great Invisible Beer and His Miraculous Hops.
Don’t let your beliefs control the lives and behaviors of others. Let your beliefs and your agendas motivate your life.
And most importantly: live the life you believe you should be living; not the one a room full of similarly-minded people tell you to live.
Honestly, no matter what you believe, the Golden Rule of “Do Unto Others As You Would Have Them Do Unto You,” remains the best way to live your life. If you don’t want someone else telling you who to love, or what you can and can’t do with your body, then you shouldn’t be telling others the same thing. Listen to me, or don’t. That’s not up to me to decide; I’m not your Great Invisible Beer.
Until next time, my Gidsciples! (But only if you choose to come back. You won’t go to Hell if you don’t.) Hopefully, I won’t take so long between updates. This pandemic has seriously impeded my posting regularity, but I’ll do my best to be better for you.
Seriously, though. Magic Missile? Be better than that, Steve.