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
Sunday, July 31, 2011
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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