That’s it. I’ve had it. I’ve tried this Christianity thing and it just isn’t working. Who would have thought that famed TV preacher the Rev. Dr. Jeremiah J. Carstoke, author of Ride that Cross to Glory, could be so wrong? I’ve listened to his 25-CD series Are You There God? And Make It Out to Cash and I’m still driving a ’71 Chevy Vega. Then my own pastor, Fitz “Fitzy” D.B. Fitzroy Fitzgerald Fitzmyer, got caught with one hand in the offering plate and another up the skirt of the church organist. And boy was he mad.
And what about my prayers for world peace? And hungry children? And the Chicago Cubs? (All right, that was pushing it.)
And what about mean people and death and salmonella, and mean people who die from salmonella but don’t tell anyone and so I have to clean it up?
I can no longer lie to myself: There is no God. And even if there is, why is it called France? And what about that whole pi thing? Who has time to count all those numbers? Questions, questions — and never an answer that doesn’t require six credit hours of koine Greek to understand.
So I’m becoming an atheist. No, better — a professional atheist. It’s so much easier than being a Christian. Something terrible happens to a good person? It’s bad luck. Something good happens to a bad person? Life sucks. Nothing happens at all? The void just saying hello. A chimp learns to program a DVR? Evolution in action. A little girl’s head spins around as she vomits odiferous pea soup? It’s the 1970s.
Now I can finally stop being nice to people who are annoying. (Well, who am I kidding. I never really did that.) And I can stop donating money to charities that don’t mail me a year-end receipt before the 1st of February. And I can start hanging out with Dickie Dawkins and Danny Dennett and Barry Ehrman and Sammy Harris and Al de Botton and Ricky Carrier and that guy who was in the New York Times a couple of weeks ago who used to be a fundamentalist preacher and now sits around and just looks sad. (Granted, they’d all have to be really bored first, and most of their other friends would have had to have died or moved away, but you know what I mean.)
I’ll probably have to change the name of this blog. “Good Without God” is already taken. So is “The Friendly Atheist.” (Mind, everything is relative. Which I can say now, because I’m an atheist.) How about “I Spit on Your Faith and Sell the Slobber on eBay.blogspot.com”? OK, I’ll work on it…
And of course, there’s that bestseller I’ll finally write: The God Who Isn’t There Now that I’m Over Here. No, better — God Isn’t My Copilot and There’s a Man on the Wing of This Plane! No —
And I’ll go to those stupid party conferences before they’re cancelled for total lack of money or interest. “My name is Anthony Sacramone, and I’m an atheist!” (cheers) “That’s all I got.” (cheers) “I like cake.” (cheers) “You’re all high, aren’t you?” (cheers)
And I can choose sides between atheist factions and get into knock-down, drag-out combox wars with strangers who are certifiable! (Which will ease the transition from the Christian online world.)
Oh to be a bona fide member of the skeptical community! It’s like a dream come true when all your other dreams have turned to poo.