Sunday, September 11, 2011
Why is it people are so quick to judge?
Dear Brother Sam,
(Numbers applied by Editor) (1) Why is it people are so quick to judge? (2) Why do people make hate on human kind weather it be racism, discrimination, and just plain nastyism? (3) Don't people understand that we are all on this giant rock of shit together? That we all need each other to survive on said giant rock of shit! (4) Are we all just to plain dumb to figure this out? (5) Or are we all just going to keep repeating history until we are all dead? I've pondered on these questions for quiet some time and haven't came up with a good answer. (6) Does this make me just as moronic as the rest of human kind?
Love,
Sister Cassandra Grimm
Dear Sister Casandra,
1. Fuck if I know.
2. Fuck if I know.
3. Fuck if I know.
4. No.
5. Yes.
6. Yes.
Love,
Brother Sam
Friday, September 9, 2011
The Bridge Case: Redux
Dear Brother Sam,
You’re standing on a bridge over a train track. Next to you to stands the very large pastor of a mega-church. A quarter-mile down the track you see a van get caught in a chain-reaction collision with several other vehicles and stuck on the track with all fifteen of its passengers trapped inside. A quarter-mile up the track a runaway train is speeding toward the van and will have to pass under the bridge before reaching it. Your choice is whether to watch as the train hits the van and kills the fifteen passengers, or push the pastor onto the track in front of the train, in the expectation that his immense bulk will stop it. You yourself are clearly not massive enough to even slow, let alone stop the train. So jumping is out of the question.
Do you (A) do nothing, and see fifteen people get killed, (B) Push the pastor, who, aside from his heft, is healthy and in the prime of his life, onto the track in order to stop the train, or (C) call your cousin Ray who has never see a train wreck?
Love,
Sister Dinah Moe Humm
Dear Sister Dinah,
Ah. A variation on the old “Bridge Case,” familiar to anybody who’s taken a college ethics class or done much reading on the subject. Most folks find it hard to choose. But that’s where the additional information about the large fellow next to me comes in handy. Knowing him to be a pastor, I take a hundred dollar bill from my pocket and toss it into the air. Naturally, the pastor cannot keep from lunging for it. He falls to the track, done in, not by me, but by his own godliness. The train smears to a stop well in advance of the van. The fifteen people get loose and drive over and take my hundred bucks before I can get down to it. And that’s what comes from trying to be moral. I’m out a hundred bucks.
Love,
Brother Sam
You’re standing on a bridge over a train track. Next to you to stands the very large pastor of a mega-church. A quarter-mile down the track you see a van get caught in a chain-reaction collision with several other vehicles and stuck on the track with all fifteen of its passengers trapped inside. A quarter-mile up the track a runaway train is speeding toward the van and will have to pass under the bridge before reaching it. Your choice is whether to watch as the train hits the van and kills the fifteen passengers, or push the pastor onto the track in front of the train, in the expectation that his immense bulk will stop it. You yourself are clearly not massive enough to even slow, let alone stop the train. So jumping is out of the question.
Do you (A) do nothing, and see fifteen people get killed, (B) Push the pastor, who, aside from his heft, is healthy and in the prime of his life, onto the track in order to stop the train, or (C) call your cousin Ray who has never see a train wreck?
Love,
Sister Dinah Moe Humm
Dear Sister Dinah,
Ah. A variation on the old “Bridge Case,” familiar to anybody who’s taken a college ethics class or done much reading on the subject. Most folks find it hard to choose. But that’s where the additional information about the large fellow next to me comes in handy. Knowing him to be a pastor, I take a hundred dollar bill from my pocket and toss it into the air. Naturally, the pastor cannot keep from lunging for it. He falls to the track, done in, not by me, but by his own godliness. The train smears to a stop well in advance of the van. The fifteen people get loose and drive over and take my hundred bucks before I can get down to it. And that’s what comes from trying to be moral. I’m out a hundred bucks.
Love,
Brother Sam
Friday, September 2, 2011
A sports question
Dear Brother Sam,
If religions were subject to similar recruiting standards for adherents as the major educational institutions in the United States face for student athletes, would Christianity be more like Ohio State or Southern Methodist in the early 1980s? Obviously the University of Miami, by way of hosting elaborate sex parties full of 72 virgins for their players, belongs to the Muslims.
Love,
Brother T. Scott Brown
Dear Brother T.,
Brother Sam does not follow college golf, so I cannot speak with authority to the historical references you offer. But I will note that religions are subject to recruiting standards; but those standards are of a markedly different, lower, order than even those flauted by the collegiate sports industry to which the idea of liberal education is anathema. As Brother Sam has noted before, religion, like spectator sports, provides something of no material consequence about which people may disagree, and an impetus to conflict when conditions otherwise favor harmony. The standard, and there’s only the one, for getting into a religion, any religion, all religions, is a willingness to value yourself over all others. Salvation, a higher plane, nirvana, bliss, paradise, heaven: call it what you will, it’s for yourself alone. Can’t be transferred. Can’t be shared. As to whether that standard is worse, equal to, or better than another, say the NCAA’s, I’ll leave for another time. But that’s the standard. One other way religion is like sports: both are hard on your knees.
Love,
Brother Sam
If religions were subject to similar recruiting standards for adherents as the major educational institutions in the United States face for student athletes, would Christianity be more like Ohio State or Southern Methodist in the early 1980s? Obviously the University of Miami, by way of hosting elaborate sex parties full of 72 virgins for their players, belongs to the Muslims.
Love,
Brother T. Scott Brown
Dear Brother T.,
Brother Sam does not follow college golf, so I cannot speak with authority to the historical references you offer. But I will note that religions are subject to recruiting standards; but those standards are of a markedly different, lower, order than even those flauted by the collegiate sports industry to which the idea of liberal education is anathema. As Brother Sam has noted before, religion, like spectator sports, provides something of no material consequence about which people may disagree, and an impetus to conflict when conditions otherwise favor harmony. The standard, and there’s only the one, for getting into a religion, any religion, all religions, is a willingness to value yourself over all others. Salvation, a higher plane, nirvana, bliss, paradise, heaven: call it what you will, it’s for yourself alone. Can’t be transferred. Can’t be shared. As to whether that standard is worse, equal to, or better than another, say the NCAA’s, I’ll leave for another time. But that’s the standard. One other way religion is like sports: both are hard on your knees.
Love,
Brother Sam
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Re: The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors, Even
Dear Brother Sam,
Do you perform weddings?
Love,
Sister Anxious in Arkansas
Dear Sister Anxious,
Among the various acts Brother Sam has been known to perform, weddings may be counted. The legalities vary according locale. I not long ago officiated a wedding Kansas and will officiate another there in October. Encore!
Love,
Brother Sam
Do you perform weddings?
Love,
Sister Anxious in Arkansas
Dear Sister Anxious,
Among the various acts Brother Sam has been known to perform, weddings may be counted. The legalities vary according locale. I not long ago officiated a wedding Kansas and will officiate another there in October. Encore!
Love,
Brother Sam
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Which came first?
Dear Brother Sam (You Handsome Bastard),
Which came first, the chicken salad or the egg salad?
Love
Brother Vincent Wright
Dear Brother Winnie,
You see, the thing with trick questions is to start out by eliminating anything extraneous, all the stuff that’s in there just to obfuscate, so to speak. So let’s begin by dispensing with the obvious part, and save the tricky bit. The egg came before the chicken. By a mile. There were all sorts of eggs long before anything like a chicken ever laid one. And, given evolution and all, there had to some pre-chicken or proto-chicken that was pert near but not plumb a chicken, as now commonly understood and enjoyed. So let’s hear no more of which came first. Goddamn. The question is salad. And the answer is chicken salad. Chicken salad came fist, what’re you crazy?
Love,
Brother Sam
Which came first, the chicken salad or the egg salad?
Love
Brother Vincent Wright
Dear Brother Winnie,
You see, the thing with trick questions is to start out by eliminating anything extraneous, all the stuff that’s in there just to obfuscate, so to speak. So let’s begin by dispensing with the obvious part, and save the tricky bit. The egg came before the chicken. By a mile. There were all sorts of eggs long before anything like a chicken ever laid one. And, given evolution and all, there had to some pre-chicken or proto-chicken that was pert near but not plumb a chicken, as now commonly understood and enjoyed. So let’s hear no more of which came first. Goddamn. The question is salad. And the answer is chicken salad. Chicken salad came fist, what’re you crazy?
Love,
Brother Sam
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Would banishing religious-based views and actions privilege atheism?
Today's Grilled Atheist selection is from the same Cathy Lynn Grossman piece in USA Today online that Thursday's was from.
Dear Brother Sam,
Think about it: Would banishing religious-based views and actions privilege atheism?
Love,
Sister Somebody
Yes. Of course. As well it should. Atheism is simply the absence of theism. Spaces that are taxpayer-owned, -leased, or -maintained are supposed to be free of theism. Y’all theists got the remaining gazillion acres on which to hold church.
Love,
Brother Sam
Dear Brother Sam,
Think about it: Would banishing religious-based views and actions privilege atheism?
Love,
Sister Somebody
Yes. Of course. As well it should. Atheism is simply the absence of theism. Spaces that are taxpayer-owned, -leased, or -maintained are supposed to be free of theism. Y’all theists got the remaining gazillion acres on which to hold church.
Love,
Brother Sam
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
What about all the immense good provided to millions by the Catholic Church?
Today’s Grilled Atheist selection comes from somebody close.
Dear Brother Sam,
I saw this Cathy Lynn Grossman piece in USA Today online. Here’s one of the questions she puts to atheists. “What about all the immense good -- social services and health care just for starters - provided to millions by the Catholic Church?”
Love,
Sister Somebody
Dear Sister Somebody,
That’s what passes for an argument among big time theists these days? Goddamn. Well, let me just hunker down and see can’t I dash off a little something by way of short but dignified reply.
Dear Sister Cathy Lynn,
I can’t imagine a theist wanting to engage on the subject of what all the Catholic Church has done. And I’ll leave it for others to weigh the human costs against the “immense good" you ascribe to the Catholic Church. But doing good doesn’t obviate bad acts. What about all the immense good -- social services and health care just for starters - provided by the Familia drug cartel? Should they get a pass on the murders and kidnappings because they offer social services?
Should rights be apportioned according to the amount of social benefit individuals and groups provide? Maybe we could issue credits. Feed ten children for a week and get forgiven for ten past acts of sectarian barbarism. Provide health care for ten old people and you’re allowed to erect one medium-size cross on public property. I’ll admit it sounds reasonable, but implementation could be tricky. For one thing, the Catholic Church starts out in the hole. And it’s a hell of a hole.
Love,
Brother Sam
Dear Brother Sam,
I saw this Cathy Lynn Grossman piece in USA Today online. Here’s one of the questions she puts to atheists. “What about all the immense good -- social services and health care just for starters - provided to millions by the Catholic Church?”
Love,
Sister Somebody
Dear Sister Somebody,
That’s what passes for an argument among big time theists these days? Goddamn. Well, let me just hunker down and see can’t I dash off a little something by way of short but dignified reply.
Dear Sister Cathy Lynn,
I can’t imagine a theist wanting to engage on the subject of what all the Catholic Church has done. And I’ll leave it for others to weigh the human costs against the “immense good" you ascribe to the Catholic Church. But doing good doesn’t obviate bad acts. What about all the immense good -- social services and health care just for starters - provided by the Familia drug cartel? Should they get a pass on the murders and kidnappings because they offer social services?
Should rights be apportioned according to the amount of social benefit individuals and groups provide? Maybe we could issue credits. Feed ten children for a week and get forgiven for ten past acts of sectarian barbarism. Provide health care for ten old people and you’re allowed to erect one medium-size cross on public property. I’ll admit it sounds reasonable, but implementation could be tricky. For one thing, the Catholic Church starts out in the hole. And it’s a hell of a hole.
Love,
Brother Sam
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
How much toilet paper can you take before it’s stealing?
Dear Brother Sam,
That question from If the Ocean was Whiskey and God was a Duck, “How much toilet paper can you take before it’s stealing?” What’s the answer?
Brother Abe Woodaxe
Dear Brother Abe,
Who knows? The question illustrates moral relativity in action. In the absence of clear lines, all that remains is relative. One can assert that stealing is always wrong, and define stealing any number of ways, but it’s hard to fix a precise number of sheets of toilet paper below which it is not stealing and above which it is stealing. The answer lies somewhere between one sheet and all the toilet paper in the place.
Most people would agree that it’s probably OK to take a little with you to protect your hand from the bathroom door, or to wipe your nose with, in addition to the minimum amount necessary to satisfy your personal standards of hygiene. But what about taking the rest of the roll? How about the roll from the next stall? All the stalls? The cabinet? Does it make a difference whether its a public restroom or one in somebody’s home? How about at work?
If the answer is along the lines, “No more than you need,” who doesn’t need toilet paper? Over time, you will absolutely need an amount of toilet paper greater than you’ll find in any one restroom. And there it is. A gift, not a sale or a loan. And moreover, nobody is watching, which has nothing to the morality of the act, but still.
One can stipulate that profligacy is bad and that one ought to be considerate of others who who come along and need that toilet paper, and that waste is bad. And, of course, environmental concerns that can be figured into the proper use of toilet paper.
Little Brother Sam asked God about it back in the summer of 1965. That’s how it wound up in If the Ocean was Whiskey and God was a Duck. I asked my father, too. He said God knew when it was stealing. I had to take his word on that. God never said shit.
Love,
Brother Sam
That question from If the Ocean was Whiskey and God was a Duck, “How much toilet paper can you take before it’s stealing?” What’s the answer?
Brother Abe Woodaxe
Dear Brother Abe,
Who knows? The question illustrates moral relativity in action. In the absence of clear lines, all that remains is relative. One can assert that stealing is always wrong, and define stealing any number of ways, but it’s hard to fix a precise number of sheets of toilet paper below which it is not stealing and above which it is stealing. The answer lies somewhere between one sheet and all the toilet paper in the place.
Most people would agree that it’s probably OK to take a little with you to protect your hand from the bathroom door, or to wipe your nose with, in addition to the minimum amount necessary to satisfy your personal standards of hygiene. But what about taking the rest of the roll? How about the roll from the next stall? All the stalls? The cabinet? Does it make a difference whether its a public restroom or one in somebody’s home? How about at work?
If the answer is along the lines, “No more than you need,” who doesn’t need toilet paper? Over time, you will absolutely need an amount of toilet paper greater than you’ll find in any one restroom. And there it is. A gift, not a sale or a loan. And moreover, nobody is watching, which has nothing to the morality of the act, but still.
One can stipulate that profligacy is bad and that one ought to be considerate of others who who come along and need that toilet paper, and that waste is bad. And, of course, environmental concerns that can be figured into the proper use of toilet paper.
Little Brother Sam asked God about it back in the summer of 1965. That’s how it wound up in If the Ocean was Whiskey and God was a Duck. I asked my father, too. He said God knew when it was stealing. I had to take his word on that. God never said shit.
Love,
Brother Sam
Friday, August 5, 2011
Why do you want to hurt your family?
Dear Brother Sam,
I know that no matter what greeting I use, you’ll change it to “Dear Brother Sam,” so I’m sticking it here in the middle where it’s harder for you to change. Dear Sam, I refuse to address or refer to you as “Brother,” as we are biologically cousins, not siblings, and you are not my brother in the Lord, either. So I won’t say it. Here’s my question. Why do you want to hurt your family and the ones who have always loved you? I am leaving off the closing, too, as I know how you’ll just tack “Love, Brother Palmer Singleton" on anyway. Like an idiot.
Love,
Brother Palmer Singleton
Dear Brother Palmer,
I realize that your question is personal, but it bears on something I’ve heard from a number of atheists, as well as on my own experience, how estrangement, or more accurately, osctracization from family has been a consequence of outspoken atheism. Like me, they tell of coming from a close family. They describe how for years they tolerated the relentless unfairness of being expected to accept without comment all manner of religious talk, of knowing that they were not equally at liberty to express their own ideas and values and convictions. They talk of sucking it up in the interest of harmony, in the interest of maintaining relations with those they love, notwithstanding matters of belief. It’s a familiar story, all right. Finally, they speak out, but not directly to their family. They speak publicly. By and by their family gets wind of it. And ties are severed. The atheist has said nothing derogatory to or about anybody in the family. There has been no falling out, no exchange of harsh words. The affront is to the believing family members’ fantasy life, to their purely selfish interest in their own riches after death. They love that nonsense more than they love their own kin. Goddamn that stinks.
Love,
Brother Sam
I know that no matter what greeting I use, you’ll change it to “Dear Brother Sam,” so I’m sticking it here in the middle where it’s harder for you to change. Dear Sam, I refuse to address or refer to you as “Brother,” as we are biologically cousins, not siblings, and you are not my brother in the Lord, either. So I won’t say it. Here’s my question. Why do you want to hurt your family and the ones who have always loved you? I am leaving off the closing, too, as I know how you’ll just tack “Love, Brother Palmer Singleton" on anyway. Like an idiot.
Love,
Brother Palmer Singleton
Dear Brother Palmer,
I realize that your question is personal, but it bears on something I’ve heard from a number of atheists, as well as on my own experience, how estrangement, or more accurately, osctracization from family has been a consequence of outspoken atheism. Like me, they tell of coming from a close family. They describe how for years they tolerated the relentless unfairness of being expected to accept without comment all manner of religious talk, of knowing that they were not equally at liberty to express their own ideas and values and convictions. They talk of sucking it up in the interest of harmony, in the interest of maintaining relations with those they love, notwithstanding matters of belief. It’s a familiar story, all right. Finally, they speak out, but not directly to their family. They speak publicly. By and by their family gets wind of it. And ties are severed. The atheist has said nothing derogatory to or about anybody in the family. There has been no falling out, no exchange of harsh words. The affront is to the believing family members’ fantasy life, to their purely selfish interest in their own riches after death. They love that nonsense more than they love their own kin. Goddamn that stinks.
Love,
Brother Sam
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
On "Why Atheists Always Lose When Debating the Existence of God"
Dear Brother Sam,
Is there anything about which you feel the need to vent?
Love,
Ardent Admirer
Dear Sister or Brother Ardent,
Thank you for asking. There’s this. For the first few weeks after Brother Sam‘s video Why Atheists Always Lose When Debating the Existence of God appeared on You Tube, a couple of years ago, I still read every comment that pertained thereto. Sometime in the interim I ceased doing that. But I still get an email notifying me when one is posted.
I just checked in. Of more than nine hundred comments, I’d say that fewer than, oh, one, has come from somebody who has actually watched the goddamn thing. Yes, the title is ironic. And one thing about irony: it requires that you actually view the material.
You’d think that the atheists who leave comments would be less likely than their theistic counterparts to go off half cocked, but not so. Should you need to disabuse yourself of the idea that all atheists are reasonable, thoughtful, clever, or kind, peruse what some of 'em write. There’s a line in If the Ocean was Whiskey and God was a Duck: “You don’t have to be genius to figure out the most obvious thing in the world, namely, that there is no God.” Need evidence? There’s this (sic throughout): “You make the claim that? God exists. Prove it. You're asking Atheists to find evidence that something doesn't exist, when things that don't exist leave no evidence.”
Multiply this by several hundred and you begin the comprehend the depth and breadth of the vacuum that occupies the space between the ears of a shocking number of atheists. Now, I realize that this isn’t what you prefer to hear from atheism’s premier evangelist. So here’s a little something from the other side to restore your sense of superiority.
“Atheists always debate Christians because they desperately need to justify themselves. Christians should be ready to give an answer but they never need to justify themselves. I always get barraged with questions and insults from atheists I have never commented to directly on YouTube. Is constant having to justify yourself any way to live a fulfilling life? Take this man's good advice and give up trying to justify yourself.”
Well, that last bit was pretty good, even if it did come from a believer. Who didn’t watch the video.
Love,
Brother Sam
Is there anything about which you feel the need to vent?
Love,
Ardent Admirer
Dear Sister or Brother Ardent,
Thank you for asking. There’s this. For the first few weeks after Brother Sam‘s video Why Atheists Always Lose When Debating the Existence of God appeared on You Tube, a couple of years ago, I still read every comment that pertained thereto. Sometime in the interim I ceased doing that. But I still get an email notifying me when one is posted.
I just checked in. Of more than nine hundred comments, I’d say that fewer than, oh, one, has come from somebody who has actually watched the goddamn thing. Yes, the title is ironic. And one thing about irony: it requires that you actually view the material.
You’d think that the atheists who leave comments would be less likely than their theistic counterparts to go off half cocked, but not so. Should you need to disabuse yourself of the idea that all atheists are reasonable, thoughtful, clever, or kind, peruse what some of 'em write. There’s a line in If the Ocean was Whiskey and God was a Duck: “You don’t have to be genius to figure out the most obvious thing in the world, namely, that there is no God.” Need evidence? There’s this (sic throughout): “You make the claim that? God exists. Prove it. You're asking Atheists to find evidence that something doesn't exist, when things that don't exist leave no evidence.”
Multiply this by several hundred and you begin the comprehend the depth and breadth of the vacuum that occupies the space between the ears of a shocking number of atheists. Now, I realize that this isn’t what you prefer to hear from atheism’s premier evangelist. So here’s a little something from the other side to restore your sense of superiority.
“Atheists always debate Christians because they desperately need to justify themselves. Christians should be ready to give an answer but they never need to justify themselves. I always get barraged with questions and insults from atheists I have never commented to directly on YouTube. Is constant having to justify yourself any way to live a fulfilling life? Take this man's good advice and give up trying to justify yourself.”
Well, that last bit was pretty good, even if it did come from a believer. Who didn’t watch the video.
Love,
Brother Sam
Monday, August 1, 2011
Dear Brother Sam,
I have temporal lobe seizures and see flying monkeys with tails carrying little imp like characters on their backs while flying over fire filled burning pits. Should I invite my friends over to roast marshmallows or should I buy some bug spray and a fire extinguisher? I am anxious for your kind reply.
Love,
Sister Cinda Grimm
Dear Sister Cinda
First off, you get points for pluck. Brother Sam is big on pluck. And a sense of humor, also good. But there's a time for levity and this ain't it. Your question is nakedly fallacious in its premise. It presents a false dichotomy. There is no choice. You invite your friends over to roast marshmallows and buy some bug spray and a fire extinguisher. Try not to let this happen again. I assume Brother Sam is to be among the invitees. Goddamn.
Love,
Brother Sam
I have temporal lobe seizures and see flying monkeys with tails carrying little imp like characters on their backs while flying over fire filled burning pits. Should I invite my friends over to roast marshmallows or should I buy some bug spray and a fire extinguisher? I am anxious for your kind reply.
Love,
Sister Cinda Grimm
Dear Sister Cinda
First off, you get points for pluck. Brother Sam is big on pluck. And a sense of humor, also good. But there's a time for levity and this ain't it. Your question is nakedly fallacious in its premise. It presents a false dichotomy. There is no choice. You invite your friends over to roast marshmallows and buy some bug spray and a fire extinguisher. Try not to let this happen again. I assume Brother Sam is to be among the invitees. Goddamn.
Love,
Brother Sam
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Why an Atheist Evangelist: Part 2
Dear Brother Sam,
Why an atheist evangelist? I mean, goddamn.
Love,
Everybody
Dear Sister and Brother Y'all,
Because it bugs believers. I think of the three-point-four-billion Moslems and Jews and Christians, worldwide, of the more than two-hundred-seventy-five million Americans who profess actual belief in the mythical god of Abraham, and I recognize the incomprehensible might that they collectively represent, and here am I, one guy, getting a few things off my chest, and it bugs them. Goddamn I love that.
Love,
Brother Sam
Why an atheist evangelist? I mean, goddamn.
Love,
Everybody
Dear Sister and Brother Y'all,
Because it bugs believers. I think of the three-point-four-billion Moslems and Jews and Christians, worldwide, of the more than two-hundred-seventy-five million Americans who profess actual belief in the mythical god of Abraham, and I recognize the incomprehensible might that they collectively represent, and here am I, one guy, getting a few things off my chest, and it bugs them. Goddamn I love that.
Love,
Brother Sam
Friday, July 29, 2011
Ronnie Mcbrayer is a syndicated columnist. I came across the following on the Detroit Times website.
"Last week my son asked me a profound theological question: 'Why did God make stinging bugs?' Stumped, I told him to talk directly to God about it. Which he did."
Not hearing back, he, naturally, turned to Brother Sam. I will tone down the language in deference to the sensibilities of my youthful questioner.
Dear Misguided,
You're just fucking with Brother Sam, aren't you, boy? Just to get a rise out of me, right? I mean, with the assumption of God built right into your question that way. And you do understand, do you not, that this business of parents wheedling out of answering their children's questions by referring them to God is one of the main themes of Sam Singleton Atheist Evangelist, If the Ocean was Whiskey and God was a Duck. You should buy the book. In fact, it's original title was 500 Questions God Can't Answer, which is ironic. You see, God can't answer shit. Get it? And it's a rotten lie to suggest to a child that there's this invisible sky spirit taking questions. Being a big boy, you don't still believe in Santa do you? Of course not. That's a good boy. Well, Santa and God are both lies parents tell to children. Neither exists.
So, since God can't, and your daddy won't, answer your question, it falls to Brother Sam to straighten your young ass out regarding stinging bugs. The very first thing to know about stinging bugs is that God has got nothing to do with them. In fact, from this moment until you die, anytime anybody so much as mentions God, you can tell 'em we've already been over that. They keep on bothering you about it, loose seven or eight hundred fire ants down their pants. Give 'em, oh, no more than a minute, and God will be the last thing on their mind, even though they may repeat his boy's name a time or two.
You want to know any more about stinging bugs, ask a goddamn entomologist. You want to know about silence, ask God. You want to know about ignorance, ask your daddy.
Love,
Brother Sam
"Last week my son asked me a profound theological question: 'Why did God make stinging bugs?' Stumped, I told him to talk directly to God about it. Which he did."
Not hearing back, he, naturally, turned to Brother Sam. I will tone down the language in deference to the sensibilities of my youthful questioner.
Dear Misguided,
You're just fucking with Brother Sam, aren't you, boy? Just to get a rise out of me, right? I mean, with the assumption of God built right into your question that way. And you do understand, do you not, that this business of parents wheedling out of answering their children's questions by referring them to God is one of the main themes of Sam Singleton Atheist Evangelist, If the Ocean was Whiskey and God was a Duck. You should buy the book. In fact, it's original title was 500 Questions God Can't Answer, which is ironic. You see, God can't answer shit. Get it? And it's a rotten lie to suggest to a child that there's this invisible sky spirit taking questions. Being a big boy, you don't still believe in Santa do you? Of course not. That's a good boy. Well, Santa and God are both lies parents tell to children. Neither exists.
So, since God can't, and your daddy won't, answer your question, it falls to Brother Sam to straighten your young ass out regarding stinging bugs. The very first thing to know about stinging bugs is that God has got nothing to do with them. In fact, from this moment until you die, anytime anybody so much as mentions God, you can tell 'em we've already been over that. They keep on bothering you about it, loose seven or eight hundred fire ants down their pants. Give 'em, oh, no more than a minute, and God will be the last thing on their mind, even though they may repeat his boy's name a time or two.
You want to know any more about stinging bugs, ask a goddamn entomologist. You want to know about silence, ask God. You want to know about ignorance, ask your daddy.
Love,
Brother Sam
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Jesus
Dear Brother Sam,
What's up with this vine that looks like Jesus?
Love,
Concerned
Dear Sister or Brother Concerned,
Relax. Jesus looks like a potato.
Love,
Brother Sam
What's up with this vine that looks like Jesus?
Love,
Concerned
Dear Sister or Brother Concerned,
Relax. Jesus looks like a potato.
Love,
Brother Sam
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Jesus
Dear Brother Sam,
What's up with this Jesus image in a Walmart receipt?
Love,
Concerned
Dear Sister or Brother Concerned,
Relax. That is not an image of Jesus. Jesus looks like a potato.
Love,
Brother Sam
What's up with this Jesus image in a Walmart receipt?
Love,
Concerned
Dear Sister or Brother Concerned,
Relax. That is not an image of Jesus. Jesus looks like a potato.
Love,
Brother Sam
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
It's Schrödinger's Cat Again
This was actually the very first Grilled Atheist Question, posted on July 4, 2011. An oversight when I was setting up this blog prevented it from being included in the archive.
Dear Brother Sam,
As a critique of the Copenhagen interpretation of quantum mechanics, Austrian physicist Erwin Schrödinger devised a paradoxical thought puzzle in which a cat is placed in a box with a lethal amount of poisonous gas that is automatically triggered to murder said cat should a Geiger counter detect a spontaneous decay of a radioactive substance. According to the paradox, it is only after the lid of the cat box is opened to an observer that the quantum wave function collapses to reveal whether the cat is alive or dead. This requires the cat to exist in a ghostly hybrid state of live/dead cat prior to opening the lid to let the cat out of the bag...er, box...letting the cat out of the box. Is this not an example of the human anthropic principle run amok that the cat, itself, is unable to be the observer that collapses the wave function long before Herr Schrödinger returns from his coffee break to open the lid?
Love,
Brother T. Scott Brown
Dear Brother T.,
Yes.
Love,
Brother Sam
Dear Brother Sam,
As a critique of the Copenhagen interpretation of quantum mechanics, Austrian physicist Erwin Schrödinger devised a paradoxical thought puzzle in which a cat is placed in a box with a lethal amount of poisonous gas that is automatically triggered to murder said cat should a Geiger counter detect a spontaneous decay of a radioactive substance. According to the paradox, it is only after the lid of the cat box is opened to an observer that the quantum wave function collapses to reveal whether the cat is alive or dead. This requires the cat to exist in a ghostly hybrid state of live/dead cat prior to opening the lid to let the cat out of the bag...er, box...letting the cat out of the box. Is this not an example of the human anthropic principle run amok that the cat, itself, is unable to be the observer that collapses the wave function long before Herr Schrödinger returns from his coffee break to open the lid?
Love,
Brother T. Scott Brown
Dear Brother T.,
Yes.
Love,
Brother Sam
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Why an Atheist Evangelist
Dear Brother Sam,
Why an atheist evangelist? I mean, goddamn.
Love,
Everybody
Dear Sister and Brother Y'all,
The first and most obvious reason I decided to become an (the) atheist evangelist is that evangelism is the Singleton family trade. I was raised to it. From an early age, I put into preaching such time and effort as another youngster might attend to sports or music. I studied preachers, public talkers, politicians, salesmen. All of which would’ve stood me in excellent stead for a career shaking nickels and dimes out of the trusting poor. I briefly considered it. And I hated the idea of never doing any more preaching, just because all the other preachers were shit-filled lying scumbags. So I came up with this . . . concept. Oh yeah. A helluva concept. I decided to become an atheist evangelist. That was in the early seventies.
In 2007, when Brother Sam finally got himself begat, his Creator, seeing the ascendance of celebrity atheists, figured there must be lots of atheist evangelists out there. Making shitloads of dough. Getting the good seats. What was on my mind was cashing in. I was fixing to hatch an atheist evangelist theme park/law school/cable TV empire. While burnishing the Singleton family name.
So that’s why an atheist evangelist. Well, there’s a little more to that precise choice of phraseology. Anybody waiting for Brother Sam to lead ‘em to anything is gonna keep right on a-waiting; 'cause I ain’t leading shit. So it's ironic, as I keep explaining. Sure, I wish everybody would abandon superstition and revert to the natural atheistic state into which we all are born, but I call myself an evangelist mainly because it is annoying, not only to many theists, but to exactly the atheists I wish to annoy.
Love,
Brother Sam
Why an atheist evangelist? I mean, goddamn.
Love,
Everybody
Dear Sister and Brother Y'all,
The first and most obvious reason I decided to become an (the) atheist evangelist is that evangelism is the Singleton family trade. I was raised to it. From an early age, I put into preaching such time and effort as another youngster might attend to sports or music. I studied preachers, public talkers, politicians, salesmen. All of which would’ve stood me in excellent stead for a career shaking nickels and dimes out of the trusting poor. I briefly considered it. And I hated the idea of never doing any more preaching, just because all the other preachers were shit-filled lying scumbags. So I came up with this . . . concept. Oh yeah. A helluva concept. I decided to become an atheist evangelist. That was in the early seventies.
In 2007, when Brother Sam finally got himself begat, his Creator, seeing the ascendance of celebrity atheists, figured there must be lots of atheist evangelists out there. Making shitloads of dough. Getting the good seats. What was on my mind was cashing in. I was fixing to hatch an atheist evangelist theme park/law school/cable TV empire. While burnishing the Singleton family name.
So that’s why an atheist evangelist. Well, there’s a little more to that precise choice of phraseology. Anybody waiting for Brother Sam to lead ‘em to anything is gonna keep right on a-waiting; 'cause I ain’t leading shit. So it's ironic, as I keep explaining. Sure, I wish everybody would abandon superstition and revert to the natural atheistic state into which we all are born, but I call myself an evangelist mainly because it is annoying, not only to many theists, but to exactly the atheists I wish to annoy.
Love,
Brother Sam
Monday, July 18, 2011
The Miracle Jug
Dear Brother Sam,
Can you give us a quick one about something interesting that might have happened out on the road?
Love,
Brother Jeremy Shaw
Dear Brother Jeremy,
Interesting? How about miraculous? One day in February, 2011, Brother Sam was in Nevada, Coyote Springs being the nearest human habitation, and it being many miles from the rutted truck track I (and Company) followed off the highway and across some of the barrenest desert anybody ever saw, through 6,000 year-old formations of rock, Mummy Mountain in the distance, the Unholy Roller bucking and shuddering like the fabled dog shitting a peach seed.
One thing about Brother Sam: I require copious and frequent infusions of liquid to do whatever it is that I appear to do. So there we were out in the burning desert. But more than burning, this was a bumpy desert. Oh, it was bumpy. And by and by Brother Sam got thirsty and got the jug of ice water from the cooler and drank therefrom. While we were stopped, a mile or so from the highway, way the hell off the road, I decided to use some of the water to freshen up a bit, so I poured some on my head. Temporarily blinded by the shock of ice-cold water on my heat parched punkin’, I groped the side of the Unholy Roller, finding the roof on which I sat the cursed jug of the water that afflicted me so mercilessly. I may have said “Goddamn” a time or two before resuming the passenger seat.
And Company drove the humping and bumping Unholy Roller (the peach seed having become a coconut) back across the cratered waste and onto the highway toward Las Vegas.
A few minutes later I was thirsty again. “The jug!” says I. And Company jumped on the brakes. From the roof, a solid thud. We pulled over and I bailed out. And about a hundred feet behind us, among the cactus and the other cactus, was the jug. Misshapen? To be sure. Battered? Goddamn. But still containing the self same water which had so cruelly afflicted Brother Sam. Only now the water was hot, being on the roof and in the desert and all. Somehow the jug had perched on the roof, not only for miles at highway speed, but across an expanse of topography so bumpy as to cause a band of 19th century Mormons to say, “Fuck it.”
Well, it wasn’t much to look at, our Miracle jug, but we couldn’t help seeing it as an object of wonder, a real life artifact of the limitless power of Brother Sam to forget shit.
Love,
Brother Sam
Can you give us a quick one about something interesting that might have happened out on the road?
Love,
Brother Jeremy Shaw
Dear Brother Jeremy,
Interesting? How about miraculous? One day in February, 2011, Brother Sam was in Nevada, Coyote Springs being the nearest human habitation, and it being many miles from the rutted truck track I (and Company) followed off the highway and across some of the barrenest desert anybody ever saw, through 6,000 year-old formations of rock, Mummy Mountain in the distance, the Unholy Roller bucking and shuddering like the fabled dog shitting a peach seed.
One thing about Brother Sam: I require copious and frequent infusions of liquid to do whatever it is that I appear to do. So there we were out in the burning desert. But more than burning, this was a bumpy desert. Oh, it was bumpy. And by and by Brother Sam got thirsty and got the jug of ice water from the cooler and drank therefrom. While we were stopped, a mile or so from the highway, way the hell off the road, I decided to use some of the water to freshen up a bit, so I poured some on my head. Temporarily blinded by the shock of ice-cold water on my heat parched punkin’, I groped the side of the Unholy Roller, finding the roof on which I sat the cursed jug of the water that afflicted me so mercilessly. I may have said “Goddamn” a time or two before resuming the passenger seat.
And Company drove the humping and bumping Unholy Roller (the peach seed having become a coconut) back across the cratered waste and onto the highway toward Las Vegas.
A few minutes later I was thirsty again. “The jug!” says I. And Company jumped on the brakes. From the roof, a solid thud. We pulled over and I bailed out. And about a hundred feet behind us, among the cactus and the other cactus, was the jug. Misshapen? To be sure. Battered? Goddamn. But still containing the self same water which had so cruelly afflicted Brother Sam. Only now the water was hot, being on the roof and in the desert and all. Somehow the jug had perched on the roof, not only for miles at highway speed, but across an expanse of topography so bumpy as to cause a band of 19th century Mormons to say, “Fuck it.”
Well, it wasn’t much to look at, our Miracle jug, but we couldn’t help seeing it as an object of wonder, a real life artifact of the limitless power of Brother Sam to forget shit.
Love,
Brother Sam
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Brainwashed: Part 4 (Conclusion)
Dear Brother Sam,
How do you get brainwashed young adults to open their mind (sic) and step outside the bible box? These kids are my nieces and they have been brainwashed their whole lives . . . If I even mention anything about no gawd, they cop an attitude.
Love,
Brother Frank DelNiro
Dear Brother Frank,
You want Brother Sam’s advice for what to do or say to believers? My father used to say of advice, “The wise don’t need it and fools won’t heed it.” But here’s mine, such as it is.
Let the believers in your life, the ones you actually give a shit about, know that you expect more of them than simplistic answers. Give 'em standards to live up to. From time to time remind them that they’re selling themselves short. They are smarter, they are better, than they are giving themselves credit for. Convince them that it’s not about you showing them up, but about how smart you know them to be. Do that without coming across as a condescending jerk.
My father also used to say, when he was feeling especially charitable, “You walk in the light that you have.” Now, Brother Sam’s friends are doubtlessly weary of hearing me liken the moral and intellectual luminosity of Christians to the brightness of lightning bugs. Therefore, I henceforth shall forebear that particular simile. After all, the glow of the average lightning bug is, in relation to a Christian ,as the sun is, to, well, the average lightning bug. The light in which they walk (for they have only one another to guide them) is more like that of a lighting bug larvae. You see, lightning bug larvae emit a feeble little glow to repulse predators. Now there’s a goddamn simile. That motherfucker fits tighter’n size-28 ass on a size-42 frog.
You can shine a hundred-million candle-power beam of full-spectrum logic right in their faces, but only if their faces are where the light can get at 'em. If their heads are way up inside their behinds they can’t see anything anyway. They must first remove the head from the ass, which, in this case, would mean admitting that they do not yet know every fucking there is to know about the universe, even if the admission is to themselves alone.
But, if we can infer anything from eight out of ten Americans being Christians, it’s that most folks are perfectly content with that anatomical configuration.
In most cases, no amount of blasting and excavation will extract the head from the butt. Accept that it’ll work its way out of there in the fullness of time or it won’t. You gotta know when to say “Fuck ‘em.” Life is short.
Love,
Brother Sam
How do you get brainwashed young adults to open their mind (sic) and step outside the bible box? These kids are my nieces and they have been brainwashed their whole lives . . . If I even mention anything about no gawd, they cop an attitude.
Love,
Brother Frank DelNiro
Dear Brother Frank,
You want Brother Sam’s advice for what to do or say to believers? My father used to say of advice, “The wise don’t need it and fools won’t heed it.” But here’s mine, such as it is.
Let the believers in your life, the ones you actually give a shit about, know that you expect more of them than simplistic answers. Give 'em standards to live up to. From time to time remind them that they’re selling themselves short. They are smarter, they are better, than they are giving themselves credit for. Convince them that it’s not about you showing them up, but about how smart you know them to be. Do that without coming across as a condescending jerk.
My father also used to say, when he was feeling especially charitable, “You walk in the light that you have.” Now, Brother Sam’s friends are doubtlessly weary of hearing me liken the moral and intellectual luminosity of Christians to the brightness of lightning bugs. Therefore, I henceforth shall forebear that particular simile. After all, the glow of the average lightning bug is, in relation to a Christian ,as the sun is, to, well, the average lightning bug. The light in which they walk (for they have only one another to guide them) is more like that of a lighting bug larvae. You see, lightning bug larvae emit a feeble little glow to repulse predators. Now there’s a goddamn simile. That motherfucker fits tighter’n size-28 ass on a size-42 frog.
You can shine a hundred-million candle-power beam of full-spectrum logic right in their faces, but only if their faces are where the light can get at 'em. If their heads are way up inside their behinds they can’t see anything anyway. They must first remove the head from the ass, which, in this case, would mean admitting that they do not yet know every fucking there is to know about the universe, even if the admission is to themselves alone.
But, if we can infer anything from eight out of ten Americans being Christians, it’s that most folks are perfectly content with that anatomical configuration.
In most cases, no amount of blasting and excavation will extract the head from the butt. Accept that it’ll work its way out of there in the fullness of time or it won’t. You gotta know when to say “Fuck ‘em.” Life is short.
Love,
Brother Sam
Friday, July 15, 2011
Brainwashed: Part 3
Dear Brother Sam,
How do you get brainwashed young adults to open their mind (sic) and step outside the bible box? These kids are my nieces and they have been brainwashed their whole lives . . . If I even mention anything about no gawd, they cop an attitude.
Love,
Brother Frank DelNiro
Dear Brother Frank,
There was nobody outside the cave hollering in at me, saying, "Right this way! Read this! Question this!" I had to assemble my own escape mechanism out of such fragments as I could find among the trash in the cave. Given my willfulness as a youth, I might've resisted had somebody tried to talk me into atheism. (An odd turn of phrase, that.) But my keepers left the Bible right out in the open, where I could get to it. Naturally, before long, I formed it into a spade with which I made good my escape into the fresh clean air of good sense, after first smacking them upside their heads with it. Part 4 Tomorrow
Love,
Brother Sam
How do you get brainwashed young adults to open their mind (sic) and step outside the bible box? These kids are my nieces and they have been brainwashed their whole lives . . . If I even mention anything about no gawd, they cop an attitude.
Love,
Brother Frank DelNiro
Dear Brother Frank,
There was nobody outside the cave hollering in at me, saying, "Right this way! Read this! Question this!" I had to assemble my own escape mechanism out of such fragments as I could find among the trash in the cave. Given my willfulness as a youth, I might've resisted had somebody tried to talk me into atheism. (An odd turn of phrase, that.) But my keepers left the Bible right out in the open, where I could get to it. Naturally, before long, I formed it into a spade with which I made good my escape into the fresh clean air of good sense, after first smacking them upside their heads with it. Part 4 Tomorrow
Love,
Brother Sam
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Brainwashed: Part 2
Dear Brother Sam,
How do you get brainwashed young adults to open their mind (sic) and step outside the bible box? These kids are my nieces and they have been brainwashed their whole lives . . . If I even mention anything about no gawd, they cop an attitude.
Love,
Brother Frank DelNiro
Dear Brother Frank,
Come to think of it, nobody talked me into becoming an atheist. When I was a Christian there were no atheists in my life setting me an example. Nobody was encouraging me to think critically. To the contrary, most of the people in my life were dead set on my remaining in the deep dark cave of ignorance, fear, superstition, and hatred in which I was imprisoned as a child. As soon as I learned to read, I began trying to sneak out into the daylight of reason. But the very people I trusted to look out for my best interests were determined to keep me in that cave. They sure as hell were not offering me tips on how to escape. Part 3 Tomorrow
Love,
Brother Sam
How do you get brainwashed young adults to open their mind (sic) and step outside the bible box? These kids are my nieces and they have been brainwashed their whole lives . . . If I even mention anything about no gawd, they cop an attitude.
Love,
Brother Frank DelNiro
Dear Brother Frank,
Come to think of it, nobody talked me into becoming an atheist. When I was a Christian there were no atheists in my life setting me an example. Nobody was encouraging me to think critically. To the contrary, most of the people in my life were dead set on my remaining in the deep dark cave of ignorance, fear, superstition, and hatred in which I was imprisoned as a child. As soon as I learned to read, I began trying to sneak out into the daylight of reason. But the very people I trusted to look out for my best interests were determined to keep me in that cave. They sure as hell were not offering me tips on how to escape. Part 3 Tomorrow
Love,
Brother Sam
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Brainwashed
Dear Brother Sam,
How do you get brainwashed young adults to open their mind (sic) and step outside the bible box? These kids are my nieces and they have been brainwashed their whole lives . . . If I even mention anything about no gawd, they cop an attitude.
Love,
Brother Frank DelNiro
Dear Brother Frank,
PART 1
Sad to say, I don’t know how to get brainwashed young adults, or anybody else, to think for themselves. Nor have I, so far I know, ever talked a believer into becoming an atheist. A legit evangelist with a record like that would be drummed right out of the Corps of Crooks and Charlatans. But there’s no governing authority for the atheist branch of the trade, so I’m OK.
PART 2 Tomorrow
Love,
Brother Sam
How do you get brainwashed young adults to open their mind (sic) and step outside the bible box? These kids are my nieces and they have been brainwashed their whole lives . . . If I even mention anything about no gawd, they cop an attitude.
Love,
Brother Frank DelNiro
Dear Brother Frank,
PART 1
Sad to say, I don’t know how to get brainwashed young adults, or anybody else, to think for themselves. Nor have I, so far I know, ever talked a believer into becoming an atheist. A legit evangelist with a record like that would be drummed right out of the Corps of Crooks and Charlatans. But there’s no governing authority for the atheist branch of the trade, so I’m OK.
PART 2 Tomorrow
Love,
Brother Sam
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
What does it take to begin a relationship with God?
Dear Brother Sam,
What does it take to begin a relationship with God?
Love,
CCCI
Dear Sister or Brother CCCI,
Obviously, some imagination— and determination which exceeds the limits of good sense. Determination of the sort that enables one to establish an actual relationship with a creature of one’s own imagination, or, more precisely, a creature of somebody else’s imagination, re-jiggered to one own purposes. Creepy. In any case, the god of your imagination is as unique to you as are your dreams. He, she, or it, is yours alone. Your personal strain of bat-shit craziness.
The other accepted way to begin a relationship with God is through mental illness. I looked this up. Between run of the mill delusion (in which your fancy, however improbable, is at least remotely conceivable) and so-called bizarre delusion (the aforementioned bat shit strain) beginning a relationship with God tends toward the latter. Hell, it embodies bizarre delusion. Brother Richard Dawkins has already addressed godliness and delusion to Brother Sam’s satisfaction, so I’ll let it go at that. But goddamn just the same.
Love,
Brother Sam
What does it take to begin a relationship with God?
Love,
CCCI
Dear Sister or Brother CCCI,
Obviously, some imagination— and determination which exceeds the limits of good sense. Determination of the sort that enables one to establish an actual relationship with a creature of one’s own imagination, or, more precisely, a creature of somebody else’s imagination, re-jiggered to one own purposes. Creepy. In any case, the god of your imagination is as unique to you as are your dreams. He, she, or it, is yours alone. Your personal strain of bat-shit craziness.
The other accepted way to begin a relationship with God is through mental illness. I looked this up. Between run of the mill delusion (in which your fancy, however improbable, is at least remotely conceivable) and so-called bizarre delusion (the aforementioned bat shit strain) beginning a relationship with God tends toward the latter. Hell, it embodies bizarre delusion. Brother Richard Dawkins has already addressed godliness and delusion to Brother Sam’s satisfaction, so I’ll let it go at that. But goddamn just the same.
Love,
Brother Sam
Monday, July 11, 2011
Freedom of prejudice?
Dear Brother Sam,
How is freedom of religion different from freedom for prejudice?
Love,
Brother Wayne Moore
Dear Brother Wayne,
They are one and the same freedom, namely, the freedom to think whatever the human mind can conceive, which can be some low down rotten shit. And yet I favor freedom of thought, and accept that society can’t regulate the bad without regulating the rest.
The religious are indeed free to imagine themselves our--and anybody else’s--superiors. Pretty fucking hilarious, if you ask me. Some of them are prejudiced against us. That cracks Brother Sam up. I want to pat 'em on the head and hand ‘em a lollipop. Goddamn.
But we all know that their prejudice is not as benign as that. It pervades our society and culture. Prejudice against atheists constrains our ability to fully participate in civic life. I’m still ruminating on whether, or to what degree, discrimination against atheists infringes on our civil rights, in the legal sense. But there is no question that it is uncivil.
Love,
Brother Sam
How is freedom of religion different from freedom for prejudice?
Love,
Brother Wayne Moore
Dear Brother Wayne,
They are one and the same freedom, namely, the freedom to think whatever the human mind can conceive, which can be some low down rotten shit. And yet I favor freedom of thought, and accept that society can’t regulate the bad without regulating the rest.
The religious are indeed free to imagine themselves our--and anybody else’s--superiors. Pretty fucking hilarious, if you ask me. Some of them are prejudiced against us. That cracks Brother Sam up. I want to pat 'em on the head and hand ‘em a lollipop. Goddamn.
But we all know that their prejudice is not as benign as that. It pervades our society and culture. Prejudice against atheists constrains our ability to fully participate in civic life. I’m still ruminating on whether, or to what degree, discrimination against atheists infringes on our civil rights, in the legal sense. But there is no question that it is uncivil.
Love,
Brother Sam
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Brother Sam's Blue Glasses
Dear Brother Sam,
What’s with the blue lenses?
Love,
Brother Julio Rosario
Dear Brother Julio,
Brother Sam’s blue spectacles are made from a special icon-sensitive optical glass that selectively filters out crosses and steeples and all other religious imagery. And the especially devout. Which is handy when I’ve had my fill of, say, Ayman Mohammed Rabie al-Zawahiri or Michelle Bachmann. I can drive by a Catholic cemetery and see nothing but a nice patch of plastic flowers. And the entire Vatican might as well not even exist. Same with Salt Lake City. The last time I was there I accidentally sideswiped this elder on a bicycle and he called me something in Mormon and it didn’t sound like “sport,” either.
Love,
Brother Sam
What’s with the blue lenses?
Love,
Brother Julio Rosario
Dear Brother Julio,
Brother Sam’s blue spectacles are made from a special icon-sensitive optical glass that selectively filters out crosses and steeples and all other religious imagery. And the especially devout. Which is handy when I’ve had my fill of, say, Ayman Mohammed Rabie al-Zawahiri or Michelle Bachmann. I can drive by a Catholic cemetery and see nothing but a nice patch of plastic flowers. And the entire Vatican might as well not even exist. Same with Salt Lake City. The last time I was there I accidentally sideswiped this elder on a bicycle and he called me something in Mormon and it didn’t sound like “sport,” either.
Love,
Brother Sam
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Born Again
Dear Brother Sam,
What does it mean to be born again?
Love,
god.com
Dear Sister or Brother god.com,
Complicated, unnecessary, expensive, and possibly illegal surgery.
Love,
Brother Sam
What does it mean to be born again?
Love,
god.com
Dear Sister or Brother god.com,
Complicated, unnecessary, expensive, and possibly illegal surgery.
Love,
Brother Sam
Thursday, July 7, 2011
How has the world treated BS thus far?
Dear Brother Sam,
How has the world treated BS thus far?Love,
Brother Jeremy Shaw
Dear Brother Jeremy,
One thing about Brother Sam: I despise a complainer. Why, if’s one thing Brother Sam cannot abide, it’s somebody always moaning about all the horrible shit that’s always happening to 'em. One day it’s, “Oh! My wife fell out of a tree and broke all her bones!” Another day it’s, “Oh! The Unholy Roller blew up and left us stranded in the middle of dogforsaken Wisconsin some fucking place on a Sunday.” Then it’s, “Oh! My computer crashed and took all my shit with it.” And, “Oh! Somebody broke into the the Unholy Roller and made off with all our money and credit cards and electronics.” I despise anybody who’ll do that. Goddamn. So, in answer to your question, Good. You?Love,
Brother Sam
How were you able to rise above your upbringing when most cannot?
Dear Brother Sam,
Millions of Americans were raised in the same religious funnymentalism as were you, and almost all are still hopelessly mired there. How were you able to rise above your upbringing when most cannot?
Love,
Brother John Eli Shuey
Dear Brother John Eli,
I have often wondered that myself. When I was younger I just chalked it up to being smarter than all my believing kin and friends. For awhile I thought it was because I was morally superior. Neither conceit panned out over time.
The sheer number of stupid moves and questionable decisions on my part disabused me of any notion of my own innate braininess, even compared to those whom I was convinced were wrong about all the most important stuff. Sure, it was possible that they were a bunch of imbeciles--OK, it appeared damned likely--but, I wasn’t so hot my damn self.
As for my being some kind of moral or ethical paragon, if I was honest, I had to admit that I was no more or less inclined to act in my narrow self interest than I was before I figured out that there was no god to punish my bad acts or reward my good ones.
It turned out that reversion to the natural atheistic state into which I was born was not about how smart I was, or how good. If it grew out of any personal attribute, that would be simple curiosity. First, I questioned. Then I learned to read.
And, by and by, my folks said I was getting too big for my britches. What I was getting too big for was God. By the time I read the entire Bible, I was still growing-- and God was down to nothing.
As for why so few others, those as smart or as good as I, revert, I can’t say. Maybe they’re incurious. Maybe they’re simply obstinate, willfully neglecting to question the questionable. And though I do not, cannot, believe in God or gods, I do believe in the power of the godly, most all of them, to redeem themselves.
Love,
Brother Sam
Millions of Americans were raised in the same religious funnymentalism as were you, and almost all are still hopelessly mired there. How were you able to rise above your upbringing when most cannot?
Love,
Brother John Eli Shuey
Dear Brother John Eli,
I have often wondered that myself. When I was younger I just chalked it up to being smarter than all my believing kin and friends. For awhile I thought it was because I was morally superior. Neither conceit panned out over time.
The sheer number of stupid moves and questionable decisions on my part disabused me of any notion of my own innate braininess, even compared to those whom I was convinced were wrong about all the most important stuff. Sure, it was possible that they were a bunch of imbeciles--OK, it appeared damned likely--but, I wasn’t so hot my damn self.
As for my being some kind of moral or ethical paragon, if I was honest, I had to admit that I was no more or less inclined to act in my narrow self interest than I was before I figured out that there was no god to punish my bad acts or reward my good ones.
It turned out that reversion to the natural atheistic state into which I was born was not about how smart I was, or how good. If it grew out of any personal attribute, that would be simple curiosity. First, I questioned. Then I learned to read.
And, by and by, my folks said I was getting too big for my britches. What I was getting too big for was God. By the time I read the entire Bible, I was still growing-- and God was down to nothing.
As for why so few others, those as smart or as good as I, revert, I can’t say. Maybe they’re incurious. Maybe they’re simply obstinate, willfully neglecting to question the questionable. And though I do not, cannot, believe in God or gods, I do believe in the power of the godly, most all of them, to redeem themselves.
Love,
Brother Sam
American Atheists Flying Banners
Dear Brother Sam,
So what did you think of the American Atheists flying banners?
Love,
Brother Julio Rosario
Dear Brother Julio,
Brother Sam is a fool for making a statement, so I approve on principle of waving shit in theists' faces. Plus, it was funny. However, for that amount of dough the AA coulda got Brother Sam to parachute entirely nude, save for my blue vest and glasses, waving a red "There is no God you fucking idiots" banner, smack into the middle of the Michelle Bachmann/Newt Gingrich 4th of July Parade in Clear Lake, Iowa. Goddamn. Next time Brother Blair and Brother David, and the rest of my AA sistren and brethren, think about doing something . . . aeronautic, I hope they'll look up to the sky and picture Brother Sam floating down, waving that banner, in the nude, except for the vest and glasses, like I say, and think how the AA could make that image a reality for a lousy twenty thousand bucks. And I can guarantee that it'll be an image that'll flat stick in peoples' minds. July 4, 2012?
Love,
Brother Sam
So what did you think of the American Atheists flying banners?
Love,
Brother Julio Rosario
Dear Brother Julio,
Brother Sam is a fool for making a statement, so I approve on principle of waving shit in theists' faces. Plus, it was funny. However, for that amount of dough the AA coulda got Brother Sam to parachute entirely nude, save for my blue vest and glasses, waving a red "There is no God you fucking idiots" banner, smack into the middle of the Michelle Bachmann/Newt Gingrich 4th of July Parade in Clear Lake, Iowa. Goddamn. Next time Brother Blair and Brother David, and the rest of my AA sistren and brethren, think about doing something . . . aeronautic, I hope they'll look up to the sky and picture Brother Sam floating down, waving that banner, in the nude, except for the vest and glasses, like I say, and think how the AA could make that image a reality for a lousy twenty thousand bucks. And I can guarantee that it'll be an image that'll flat stick in peoples' minds. July 4, 2012?
Love,
Brother Sam
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