An Atheist Said Grace

America had a holiday this past week, just in case you didn’t know.  It’s a day where we basically sit around a table with people we typically try to avoid, we eat way more than is even physically possible, watch football, and be thankful for all we have.  We do this to celebrate the first feast the Pilgrims had with American Indians, you know right before they stole their land and murdered their people.  We have a big parade, then we go to sleep and wake up the next day to go to stores where we will kill each other over a toaster that is marked down 5%.  This dark day of sales marks the beginning of the holiday season and ushers in unhinged materialism dotted with sugary sappy sweet sentiments of joy that no one really feels.  It’s like Disney had sex with a Trump and created this catastrophe that has become Christmas.

 

If your family is anything like mine, they do the Thanksgiving thing with gusto.  A feast that would feed a small country is placed on a table and we laugh at jokes that are really not that funny.  We avoid topics that we know will upset each other.  Yet, there is always that brief moment where all eyes come to me.  It’s that moment right before the turkey is carved, somber hands clenched to give grace to a god I don’t believe in.  In a single instant, my parents find a way to make me feel completely ill-prepared.  Like I showed up to class without my report written.  It’s hard to tell them my dog ate my grace.  This year I was prepared.  This year I was not going to allow them to catch me off guard.  Oh, this year I was not going to stand there shaking my head like a fool.  No, this was the year I was going to take their derisive stares and turn them into eyes wide open in shock.  This was the year that I embraced my atheism and said my grace.  I went to the dinner table prepared this year.  I knew exactly how it would go and I ran with it.

The moment came.  Mom and Dad stood there, eyes upon me, “I think you should say grace.”  Every other time I would bow out and shake my head.  Not this year.  They want me to give grace, that’s just fine, I will give grace.  I stood tall, heads bowed down around me, and I began:

“Today we are told that we should be thankful for what we have and I think that is exactly what we should do.  I am thankful for the farmer that raised this fine turkey and slaughtered it so that we can eat it.  I am thankful for the truck drivers that left their families for days on end to deliver the food we are eating.  I am thankful for the store employees that don’t make nearly enough to put up with the crappy people they deal with on a daily basis.  I am thankful that my car is functioning properly and I was able to drive to the store to buy these groceries.  I am thankful that I have a good job that allows me the income necessary to feed a family of eight.  I am thankful that I am healthy enough to carry in the ridiculous amount of groceries that were required to prepare this meal.  I am thankful that we are good cooks and nothing was burnt and that the smoke alarm didn’t go off.  I am thankful that I have a family to spend today with, in a house, and that we are relatively comfortable sitting around this table.  What I am mostly thankful for is that my family has given me this opportunity to thank those that truly need to be thanked and to remind me of all the good things in my life.  I won’t thank a god that would feed our family but ignore all those that are starving and alone today.  If he was there he doesn’t deserve to be thanked for that simple reason.”

My family:

If your family asks you to say grace, don’t bow out.  The time to bow out of conversations to make others feel better has passed.  There’s too much riding on our shoulders now.  As religion digs their heels into every aspect of life in this country, atheists need to be more outspoken and we need to come out of our shadowy depths to make a positive change.  Trust me they will survive the shock of what you say, guaranteed.

 

The Nauseating Melody of Thoughts and Prayers

It’s been awhile since I have written and this is due to several things.  First, life.  Sometimes life just throws you a curveball and you just have to roll with it.  I got sick recently and everything took a back seat to me getting myself better.  Second, I am not myself.  I just don’t feel like myself right now.  I feel frustration and anger and sadness.  This is not my usual cheery self and for awhile I attributed it to coming down off strong medications but now I know this is not true.  My life hasn’t changed.  I have the same people I love surrounding me, the same friends that tell the same jokes, and the same job that I sit at as I always have.  An unseen darkness has crept in and I searched for the answer.  I think I know what it is.  I think I have finally found the creeping crud that is in my world.  The news. I just can’t do it anymore.

Another mass shooting, Trump tweeted again, and sex scandals in Hollywood.  It’s all too much and I need to disconnect.  I need to walk away from the constant stream of negative and yet the reality is that I simply cannot walk away.  I believe deeply that our voices have power and that power comes in many forms.  For me, it is often in the form of writing.  I believe in the power of the human voice to make major changes and yet I can feel the tension in my life.  It’s like a rubber band within me.  I know I am not alone in this feeling.  I know it is shared by so many.  How do we fix this?  How do we make this better?  It feels overwhelming.  It feels like we’re on the Titanic.  We know that it looks horrible, we know that the ship is going down, but the band plays on.  At what point do we call the timeout and pick up these broken pieces?  Where do we even begin?

Over the past few weeks, things seem to be spiraling out of control.  You can feel a growing tension everywhere you go.  In stores, in line at the gas station, when you’re driving.  It lingers like a dementor or a blight on our otherwise fairly normal existences.  We’re more divided than ever, it seems.  Blue vs. red, white vs. black, straight vs. gay, religious vs. non-religious.  A volatile mix which is part pointed misinformation, algorithms that reinforce opinions, and a constant state of unrest of where the next attack will happen.  Thoughts and prayers have become the soundtrack to existence in this nation.  Like the sappy undertone that lends nothing but an ambiance too insipid to actually be useful.  A nauseating melody playing in our heads while the blood count keeps rising.  The entire time no one seems to have a single plan on how to fix any of it.  Just empty thoughts and prayers offered up to a god, if he existed at all, abandoned us a long time ago.

So I have given it some thought.  In my vain attempt to feel more productive and less adrift among the filth I feel, I have started to do research.  Research is my therapy, it always has been.  It is what I do when I feel like things are getting out of control.  It’s what I did before I gave birth to my son, when I found myself dealing with physical therapy, and even after my grandmother passed away.  Research is my form of security and it has gotten me through many moments in my life where I felt lost.  I fill my brain with knowledge and my emotions seem to check themselves.

Now, I don’t pretend to be a political correspondent and I’m certainly not a political figure.  I am not a sociologist, psychologist, or anyone else that can talk about the nuances of our societal woes.  I don’t pretend to be anyone of authority and I certainly don’t think so highly of myself that I believe I have the answer.  What follows is simply my personal opinion.  It is based on the best research Google can provide me with and certainly has its humble beginnings in my own personal opinion and life experiences.  Whether you agree or not is not my concern; I’m putting down my thoughts because this is what I do.

People are assholes. As a society, though, we are significantly less violent than our ancestors. With that said, in America, it is a combination of a few things. First, access to affordable healthcare does play a role. People are not able to go to a doctor when they notice something is off. If they do go they’re given pills which often have side effects worse than what they already had. For instance, we know that certain meds used to treat ADHD have side effects that can cause homicidal and suicidal tendencies. Is it really that hard, then, to figure out why every single shooter has been male and ADHD has long been over diagnosed in male children. The pharmaceutical industry doesn’t want this changed and pays out huge amounts to guarantee our government doesn’t change that.

The media also has to take responsibility here. I can name, off the top of my head, at least half a dozen mass shooters but I can’t tell you the name of a single victim. I can tell you the physical features and know the faces of the killers but the victims are all a blur. Faces and names I just don’t know. The truth is that we make martyrs of these morons and the media keeps it going and beats that dead horse as long as possible. If we stop making them famous it might just help.

Movies currently playing at my local theater

We have a violent culture. Go to the movies and count the number of violent movies currently playing. They significantly dwarf anything else. Find a movie with a good storyline, deep emotion, and no violence. You know what, you can’t. You’d be hard-pressed to. Go to a video game store and count the violent games. First person shooters are huge. They’re massive and immersive worlds. Worlds that desensitize brains. Human lives are nothing more than pixels on a screen.

We have a serious lack of education as well and that does matter. Stupid people do stupid things.  Our education department has focused so long on teaching children how to fill in bubbles that they seem to forget that someday these will be the adults in our world.  Children being told just how perfect, wonderful, unique, and intelligent they are get out in the real world and realize they’re average at best.  Einsteins and Hawkings are not created by filling in bubbles and they don’t come about from a tepid education.  We were once the leaders of innovation and creative geniuses.  Where did this go? At what point did our education take a back seat to testing?  Not to mention the newer religious movements that insist that parents homeschool, in order to teach their children in god’s way.  Unfortunately, god’s way doesn’t rely on much math or science.  Basically ensuring that children stay just dumb enough not to ask questions.

Religious and political extremism adds to this. Extremes on either end allow people to do horrible things to others and feel justified. It’s important that those of us who exist in the nuanced middle ground speak up more. Extremism and no open discussion between the two ends add to a feeling of division in this nation. We also currently have no base. So many people, more than half of this nation, have no trust at all in Trump and that does add to the feeling of frustration that so many people are living with. For some people that shaky foundation is just enough to push them over.

Lastly, the gun industry doesn’t want to change this at all. Every single shooting, their pockets get lined. They pay huge amounts out to buy and pay for the members of our government to ensure that nothing changes. They spend huge amounts pushing their agenda and people buy it. Taking away guns won’t fix the problem alone. We need to face the issue from many many directions. We need to change the culture of this country entirely. Unfortunately, the only way I see that happening is when tragedy touches the lives of every single family in this country. Until that point, it is always someone else’s problem.

An Atheist Prank

You’ve Offended Me – 10 Opinions Sure To Piss Someone Off

The day was cool and crisp, my long dirty blond hair was loose down my back.  My bare feet were filthy dirty and my dress was torn in a few places.  Anyone who would come across me in those woods would have assumed I was a feral child; not the daughter of a mother who desperately attempted to tame her gypsy girl.  I had spent so many hours of my childhood in these woods; climbing trees, building forts, and eating wild apples and berries.  I could sing out loud in these woods, no parents telling me to hush after my third hour of the same song.  I could say what I want, scream if I want, and I had no worries about who I would offend.  I didn’t have to be prim and proper here.  No, here I could scrape my knees, have knots in my hair, and dirty feet and no one would call me unladylike.  Who wanted to be a prim and proper lady anyways?  It sounded dreadfully boring and I simply didn’t have time for it.  There was too much to do.

On this day, I had my dog Cracker with me, his brown fur filled with the mud we had both taken time to play in, and he joyfully bounded behind me as I ran towards “my spot”.  My spot was a tiny opening in the trees, where a little pond sat lit by a long slender patch of sunlight.  Tiny yellow flowers would cut through the green of the grass and tickle my feet as I walked towards the water to cool myself in.  I had visited this spot so many times that to this day I can tell you exactly how it smells in the summer, the feel of the cool grass on my skin, and the sound of the water moving in the breeze.  On this day I burst out of the shadows of the trees and into the sunlight and found the little boy that lived down the street from us with his feet in my pond.  I cannot even begin to explain to you how absolutely furious this made me.  I was offended, I was angry, this boy had destroyed my magical little spot.  It was mine and he had besmirched it with his disgusting boy feet in my beautifully cool pond.  How dare he.  My fists tightened, my face felt hot with the flush of rage, and I marched across that grass with the sass of a little girl unhinged….and he laughed.  The sound ripped through my ears and in an instant, I made a decision that I would later regret.  I punched him square in the nose.  There was a crack, a scream, and blood.  So much blood.

I broke his nose.  There was no way around it and I couldn’t hide the fact, his blood was covering my dress.  I tried to apologize, I tried to make it right, but the truth was my anger had gotten the better of me and I was going to be in trouble.  I knew it instantly.  My father would not let this go without some sort of scene.  I walked this pond-besmirching filthy boy to his house and when his mother asked me what happened all I could quietly mutter was “I punched him in the nose for having his feet in my pond.”  You could see my house from his kitchen window, it was the longest walk I’ve ever made in my life.  I had to tell my mom who would tell my dad who would make up some punishment that would either require serious physical work or would teach me a lesson I didn’t want to learn.  I didn’t want to know I was wrong.  He had his feet in my pond and laughed at me.  He had it coming but I knew that no adult would ever see the logic in this.  I slowly walked up the back steps to our house, turned the door handle, and stood in the kitchen.  “Child, get your nasty self off of my floors…”  My mother’s eyes had seen the blood and she stopped.  I saw fear cross her face and then she saw that I wasn’t hurt at all.  “What did you do now?”  I told her about our neighbor boy, my pond, and I cried.  I had mustered up my best possible act of remorse.  Maybe if she saw how sorry I was pretending to be she wouldn’t punish me or worse, call my dad.

By the time the next month was completed, I had not only done all of my own chores but all of the pond stealing boy’s chores too.  It did not endear him to me at all.  That laughing sneering face.  I threatened to break his nose again so many times in that month that four times I had to write him half-hearted apology letters; I hope he got the sarcasm I put in those.  I did, however, learn some valuable lessons: 1. That was NOT my pond at all and that I had to share it since the property line literally cut it in half.  2. That being offended and angry never gave me an excuse to resort to violence.  3. My perception and the truth was that the pond was mine but he had equal claim to it.  Truth is relative to what your experiences are and does not equate to absolute truth at all.

Today, we often see people who seem to think that being offended gives them some leeway on the basics of human decency.  I think everyone should have broken a neighbor’s nose as a child because somewhere in their life they missed this basic lesson.  Today, I am going to lay out ten opinions I have that seem to have recently offended people online.  So here’s a warning, I am probably going to trigger you.   I will lay out my position, probably offend someone, and then will have to explain further and that’s just fine.  Let me just lay these out and see where this goes.

1. Women and men are not created equal.  First, we’re not created at all but we are the results of thousands of years of evolution.  An evolutionary process that has shaped our bodies and minds to complete tasks and each gender supports tasks that the other gender struggles with.  For instance, as a woman, I am better at multitasking and hearing higher pitched noises.  Men, however, are better at physical strength tasks and are often better at tasks requiring tactical foresight.
2. Not all Trump voters are idiots.  I actually understand why Trump won and why so many did vote for him.  Clinton represented a very old and very powerful political elite that many people in this country were sick of seeing.  She represented an old school powerful few and many were looking to shake up Washington.  Now, I don’t necessarily think this worked for them but I can see why so many wanted someone completely different in office.
3. Pride should be reserved for things you actually accomplished.  The fact is that I did not choose my vagina and therefore I am not proud of being a woman.  No one was given a swatch of colors to choose their race.  No one chose what religion, nation of birth, or economic status their family had.  None of these things are worthy of pride since you didn’t work to accomplish it.
4. Gun control is a much larger issue than taking away guns.  In my opinion, we should have guns in the hands of private citizens but I see no reason for anyone to have an arsenal.  We also need to have free access to mental health care, we need to change a violent entertainment culture, and we need to outlaw lobbyists in Washington.  There’s a much larger picture here and I don’t think either extreme of this issue has any clue what it would really take to fix it.
5. Talking about offending veterans for not standing for the flag is complete and utter bullshit.  What’s really offensive to veterans is allowing them to sleep on the streets when they get home, making them wait weeks for a doctor’s visit, and even telling them that they should be offended by this action.  The only time anyone seems to care about our men and women in the military is when they can still be useful.  We can shoot a missile with absolute precision across the ocean but we can’t seem to figure out how to have the money to support those veterans when they get home.
6. Free speech includes even the things you don’t like and it never gives you the right to punch someone just because you do disagree.  Yes, white supremacists are disgusting but they have the right to speak and you have the right to give your points.  You do not have the right to physically attack them simply for having an opinion that is different from yours.  It also means that you should not have the right to stop speakers at a university because you don’t agree with what this person says.  Universities should be places where we are tested and presented with opposing views we can work through.  Do not live in an echo chamber.
7. The new progressive left feminism does far more damage to the feminist movement than any man could ever do.  The second you emasculate an entire gender simply for what their genitals are you’ve already lost the argument.   It is not true equality if you have to beat down another gender to get there.
8. You being offended means absolutely nothing.  I don’t care if you’re offended and no one should have to walk on eggshells as they try to navigate this current “offended” society.  Knowing that you will always piss someone off just for having an opinion helps you to become more comfortable with giving that opinion.  So they’re offended, why should you care?
9. Not all religion is bad.  I think there are people who really do great things for their societies based on religion.  Religion also has an ability to help people who are struggling to get their footing in the world.  It’s not that I agree with what they are teaching but I do not believe all religion is horrible all of the time.
10. Islam is absolutely the most dangerous religion on the planet today.  This doesn’t make me an Islamaphobe.  It is simply a fact of numbers.  They are doing far more damage right now than their contemporary counterparts are.

I promise I will not break any noses for disagreeing with me and I’m fairly sure I will get some pushback from this.  It’s to be expected.  We are at a crossroads in this country today where everyone seems to have this broad belief that everyone else is wrong.  No one actually accepts the fact that they could be misinformed.  We live in these bubbles and place ourselves in boxes.  If in describing yourself it takes you ten minutes of titles it is safe to say you are part of this group.  Humans are more complicated than just your political views and most of us don’t live in extremes.  Have a discussion today with someone you don’t agree with, who knows what could happen.

Love,

The atheist, feminist, sort of leftist, nearly always sassy, mischievous, nightmare!

 

Normalizing Non-Belief

The interesting day of an atheist mother.  Please note that I do not eat babies at any point, I don’t worship Satan, and not once in my day do I set aside time to murder anyone.  I post my incredibly boring daily schedule to make a very simple point: atheists are absolutely no different than any other person.  The only thing that really sets us aside is that we sleep in on Sunday.

I was recently having a conversation with a friend of mine, the behind the scenes editor of this page, about how I really would love to have my blog be a resource used to entertain and educate my readers.  A place where atheists come to grab a meme, watch a video, or allow their religious friends to read some thoughts on what atheism is.  He pointed out that my strength truly lies in my ability to normalize atheism.  So I thought I would probably tackle that in this post.

Most people in my day do not know I am an atheist.  I don’t walk around with a huge neon sign upon my forehead.  I come in contact with hundreds of people in a day and yet rarely do they know my personal beliefs.  The thing about my atheism is that I don’t need anyone else to validate my position.  It is, however, always amusing when I do get into that conversation with someone.  Here’s a very recent discussion I had in my office.

Judy: What church do you go to?

Me: I don’t actually. I’m atheist.

Judy:  Oh but you’re so nice.

Me:  I know.  It’s weird isn’t it?

Judy:  Why are you atheist?

Me: The same reason you’re religious.  I’m just doing my best to get by and that seems the best fit for me.

Judy: Aren’t you afraid of hell?

Me:  No, I don’t believe in that either.

Judy:  Don’t you worship Satan?

Me: Nope.  I think he’s just as fake as god.

Judy: But you’re such a good person.

Me: I think you’re a good person too.  I don’t think for a single second that you would all of a sudden become a horrible person if you stopped believing in god.  I’m the way I am because I’m a happy person and I have a good life.  I don’t need a book to tell me to do the right thing.  It’s just logical.

The conversation obviously went on from here and we got into some more details on what I do and do not believe.  However, I wanted to post this part of the conversation for a couple of reasons.  The first point is that I never ever shy away from using the word atheist.  I believe fully that if I make it seem perfectly reasonable then they will accept it as such.  If I stated that I was an atheist with hesitation, mockingly, or even aggressively the reception would be quite different.  You will never find someone who is Baptist, Methodist, Jewish, Buddhist, or any other religion state their beliefs without pride; why should I be any different? Second, I don’t say anything here with any annoyance in my voice.  It’s a general conversation and I have worked really hard over the years to remain relaxed.  It is important to remember that being an atheist is our natural setting.  We are all born atheist and only become something else when we are told what to believe in.  There’s no reason to feel shame or to feel superior in any way.

I expect questions and there will definitely be ones I have answered a thousand times before.  My eyes don’t need to roll and I don’t need to get annoyed.  I may be their very first contact with an atheist that’s not ashamed to tell them and one of the consequences of being open about my belief system is that I know I will get questioned.  It can be very hard for people who are used to assuming everyone is their religion to understand a worldview that doesn’t include heaven, hell, or god.  I never shy away from the questions and I know exactly where I stand.  If you are comfortable with you then they will be comfortable with you.  Part of getting to that point is knowing exactly where you stand and having a very thorough knowledge of the stereotypes people have about atheists.

I believe that over the years atheism has been seen as either an old white man’s club.  These very snarky and well-educated males who use tremendous wit and cynicism in a fight against religion.  Or it is often viewed as an angry position, in which people like Madalyn Murray O’Hair, will scream and with a very forceful personality demand that the world shape to their view.  Very few know or even realize that these characterizations are based on a very limited pool of what atheism actually looks like.  Most of us work in normal jobs, raise our children, and quietly go about our lives with little thought about your belief or even our own beliefs.  We are not a crusade.  Believe what you want, let us believe what we want to, and in the end, we all walk through a path of least resistance.

On this blog, you will find the Ask An Atheist Page in which I do go over the most commonly asked questions that I get.  The answers are the same exact ones I often give or videos that give a great explanation that I think would help you.  Becoming comfortable with your go-to answers helps you direct a conversation in a way that is both positive and pointed.  I think being willing to take the risk of engaging in these conversations is worth it.  I used to be completely hesitant and didn’t really want to offend other people but once I let that go and became comfortable with being me, I was really surprised with how positive it changed my life.  People are very receptive to me when I come across so comfortable and happy.  The way you lead your life and feel about yourself is how others will view you.

Starting the conversation about normalizing atheism is one that requires far more personal empowerment than what I can provide for you.  I just want to get this movement to a point where being atheist is viewed as a reasoned and normal position to have and certainly not as obscure as what it has always been viewed as.

 

 

Conquer, Convert, Enslave

Today is Columbus Day. You know the holiday where we celebrate a man getting lost and then forcing the enslavement and forced conversion of native peoples day. It’s that holiday that many people just sort of know it is there but they don’t truly understand the history of. We all know that he enslaved and killed the “Indians” he came across. We all know that he stole land that belonged to others. We get why no one really feels fully comfortable celebrating this holiday.
There’s also this mindset that Columbus was this brave explorer that set off into the wild blue yonder. That he was bold and used science to navigate this planet but there is little doubt among historians that religion also played a huge role in what he was doing. He clearly did think he was doing the work of his god in order to ensure he gained more followers. In the prologue to his journal of his first voyage, Christopher Columbus wrote to King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella:

“YOUR HIGHNESSES, as Catholic Christians and Princes who love the holy Christian faith, and the propagation of it, and who are enemies to the sect of Mahoma [Islam] and to all idolatries and heresies, resolved to send me, Cristóbal Colon, to the said parts of India to see the said princes … with a view that they might be converted to our holy faith …. Thus, after having turned out all the Jews from all your kingdoms and lordships … your Highnesses gave orders to me that with a sufficient fleet I should go to the said parts of India …. I shall forget sleep, and shall work at the business of navigation, so that the service is performed.”

Beyond this prolouge, we have his entire Book of Prophecies. Very few people actually know that this book exists but it is a fantastic look inside the mind of this man. He was hardly a bold and innovative explorer, using rationality and science to battle the ignorance and superstition of the time. He has been portrayed in such a way for far too long. The fact remains that he justified horrendous behavior by convincing his own mind that he was doing divine work. Recent scholarship suggests that this image of Columbus is badly flawed, that if he did embark on his voyage of discovery for gold and glory, he did so for God, as well. I have included the Book of Prophecies for those who are interested in reviewing them for themselves.

I personally refuse to celebrate this man and see absolutely no reason to do so. Why are we celebrating such deplorable human being? Not only that but why are we celebrating someone that literally made a mistake?

Christopher Columbus’ Scriptural Book of Prophecies

I Create You To Be Hated

I woke in a hospital bed.  I remember that moment of confusion when my eyes cracked open for the first time, I saw my mother standing over me, and I had no idea where I was.  The lights were bright and my mind was swimming.  It was a quiet panic but a panic nonetheless.  “It’s okay.  Can you hear me?  Go get the nurse.”  My mom’s lips were moving but I was hearing her words a minute after her mouth was moving.  Nothing made sense and I couldn’t speak.  I was clouded and slow.  Something was wrong.

A nurse with short dark hair came into my field of view and she started checking me over.  What was she looking for?  She kept messing with my head and the more she touched the more my body awakened with little pricks of pain.  I tried to ask where I was, to fight this dark headed woman that was causing my body to be overwhelmed with feeling.  I needed to know where I was.  My mother came back into my view “You’re in the hospital.  Do you know why you’re here?”  I shook my head no.  My mind beginning to race as I tried to remember.  What was the last thing I was doing?  Laundry.  I was doing laundry.  For days I lived in this world of limbo.  A world I could see pass me in a haze and words uttered out of sync with when I heard the sounds.  Laundry.  I had been doing laundry.  How would laundry put me here?

About a week after I woke up, when my ears and eyes seemed to agree to work at the same time, my mother sat with me.  She was always there.  I don’t remember a single time I woke up that her face wasn’t there.  Her hands softly gripping mine.  I disliked that worry around her eyes.  Something I did put those there and I hated that.  “Mom, what happened when I was doing laundry?”  She gave me this look, she was going to cry, “You don’t remember at all?”  She took a really deep breath.  It was like she was attempting to guard herself against a pain that I couldn’t understand.  “It wasn’t laundry at all.  Honey, he did this.  He knocked on the door, you answered it, and he beat you.”  We didn’t need to say names, I knew the “he” without a name being given.  My son’s father had been stalking me for months, threats being sent over email, letters being left on the front porch, and seeing him standing in the view of the camera at my work.  For months I hadn’t left the house alone.  I had obtained a restraining order but let’s be honest it’s just a piece of paper.

It took me over a year to fully recover from a beating I still cannot remember.  I don’t remember answering the door, I don’t even know why I would.  I was doing laundry.  It was the last thing I remember.  By the time this event had taken place I was already an atheist.  It was still new, though, and I found myself struggling with my own mind during this time.  After all, why did god seem to hate me so much?  Not only did he seem to walk away from me when I was looking for him but he allowed this shit to happen to me.  I was angry, dejected, and helpless.  I was beginning to languish and as I moved through the emotions I came to this point where it just wasn’t worth it anymore.  The physical therapy hurt too much, it was too hard learning to walk again, and the constant migraines drained every ounce of life I did feel.  It was at this lowest ebb that my lawyer began to visit me nearly every day.  He was ready to go to trial, to have me face the monster that took so much, but I refused to do anything until I was able to walk in there on my own.  It was on one of those days, those dark days that were very common in those times, that he said to me the one thing that has never left me.  “You were not born to suffer.  You are not bad or hated.  You are wonderful and he’s the monster.  You choose your life, no one else does that.  It’s time for you to face your demon and choose your own path now.”  I sincerely believe that without those words I would be a different person today.  Without that calm cool logic that my life was my own to choose.  That destiny, fate, and a pre-determined life was a foolish notion.  However, this is the Christian view.  This is the view of many religions and it is an extremely dangerous notion.  The minute we give up our life to fate we cease to take responsibility for it.

The idea of a pre-determined life is one of the overarching ideas in the story of Jacob and Esau and one of the most disgusting displays of who the god character really is.

Malachi 1:2-3 declares, “’I have loved you,’” says the LORD. But you ask, ‘How have you loved us?’ ‘Was not Esau Jacob’s brother?’ the LORD says. ‘Yet I have loved Jacob, but Esau I have hated, and I have turned his mountains into a wasteland and left his inheritance to the desert jackals.’” Malachi 1:3 is quoted in Romans 9:10-13, “Not only that, but Rebekah’s children had one and the same father, our father Isaac. Yet, before the twins were born or had done anything good or bad—in order that God’s purpose in election might stand: not by works but by him who calls—she was told, ‘The older will serve the younger.’ Just as it is written: ‘Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated.’”

Within the pages of the Bible, there are dozens of stories we can point to that would indicate the disgusting character that is the god as he is presented.  However, nothing disgusts me quite like the story of Jacob and Esau.  There’s a true sickness in this story.  Let me sort of paraphrase and put this in some context for you, if you bear with me for a moment.

Step 1:  Pick one of these twin boys.  Tell me which one you will love and lift up and which one you would condemn to a life of pain and suffering.

Step 2: The one that you condemn must now suffer his entire life with a life you chose for him and then be told he’s the hated or horrible one for this.

Step 3:  If this was not enough, all of his descendants must now suffer as well.

Now please tell me how this is a loving god.  Please tell me which part of this story shows a god of mercy and love.  There are many many parts of the bible that make me scratch my head, cringe, or recoil in pure disgust.  This, however, is one part that I sincerely find the single most disgusting.  God chose an unborn fetus, decided he would hate this one (the bible specifically says hate), and then condemn this unborn child to an entire lifetime of struggle.  There’s something incredibly disgusting about this.

This story also feeds into this idea that your life is decided for you.  Your fate is sealed from before your birth and every single thing that happens to you is at the will of a god that has shown himself over and over to be vindictive and hateful.  So it’s with all the love I can muster that I tell you this:  This is your life, not determined by anyone or anything else, and you have the choice to change your position no matter how helpless you feel.

Joe Rogan Experience – Leah Remini

I have been watching this interview for a while now.  I find it absolutely fascinating in a very voyeuristic way.

Sadness of a Star-Spangled Size

The flag is at half-staff again.  It’s become a view far too common and is the backdrop of our society.  This is the flag that no longer flies high in beauty.  It’s not the flag of freedom any longer.  There’s no reverence I feel when I look at it.  It’s the reminder of what once was and what no longer lives here; a people united for a common good.  This is the flag that drips with the blood of victims mowed down in a hail of bullets they didn’t see coming.  Not the flag of pride I once looked at and felt so fortunate to stand under.  This isn’t the flag that once waved in the breeze of innovation, creativity, and ingenuity.  A flag that was a beacon of hope for the repressed.  The stars and stripes of grit and hard work.  A striped hope for millions crossing an ocean.  But it has changed.  It’s not free here anymore.  Lady Liberty weeps for the loss of all she represented.  Is it freedom when you send your child to school and worry you may not see them again?  Is this what freedom is supposed to feel like?  That gripping fear that exists when in large crowds?  Is this the freedom my ancestors sacrificed so much to gain?

There are so many that say I am wrong.  I am sure I have offended so many already.  Loud voices tell me that flag still stands so high and that I should be proud to call this country home.  They tell me that I should have respect for the flag because of the military that dies for it.  The men and women that walk into the hellfire so I don’t have to.  However, they don’t die for that flag.  They don’t sacrifice their lives for a piece of cloth.  They die for freedom.  For unrestrained freedom and they do it with the words of a vow to the constitution constantly echoing in their minds.  This is the price of freedom and they take that vow with a full and able realization of what exactly they are agreeing to do.  The ones that correct me are often the same people who will walk by a homeless veteran with not a second glance.  Those are the men that sacrificed so much for you as well.  Not all vets stand proudly in suits with shiny medals.  Some sleep under soiled blankets on sidewalks.  They sacrificed too.

Concert goers enjoying a night out did not.  Neither did children in a classroom, college students walking a campus, movie-goers, or the hundreds of other people who were gunned down innocently doing what they did a thousand times before.  They didn’t get to decide if it was a sacrifice they were willing to make and why should they?  Why should they think that the day that started out so normal would be the day they took their last breath?  Is the price of freedom death to innocent people en masse?  Is this what freedom looks like?  Is this the red on those stripes?  Stars snuffed out far too early?

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

I refuse to put them in any order.  I refuse to define them by the event they didn’t choose.  They are a connected heart of tragedy.  These are the faces of freedom.  Not all of them have medals.  Some are not old enough to drive.  Others had so much left to do.  They are all races, creeds, religions, sexualities, and political affiliation.  See, here’s the thing about mass killing, it’s rarely picky about who it takes.  These are a handful of victims, the result of just five mass shootings.  170 faces frozen in time out of the 600 who share this grim ending.  This is the price of freedom you talk about.  This is what it looks like.

America I challenge you.  I give you this single challenge.  If you want freedom it’s going to take work.  What we have right now is not worthy of the term.  Let’s find the solution.  Let’s sit down and figure this out.  We have options.  We have compromises that must be made and one of those compromises should not be the blood of our citizens.  Let’s make this a time of great change and growth.  WE.  The collective and united “we” can do this because no matter if you fly right or left, what country you came from, what religion or non-religion you practice, who you love, or how much money sits in your account; we can agree on this much:  we know this isn’t working and something must be done.

Laugh Of The Day

I have never seen anything quite as hilarious as this