Movie scene. All these people are not really out warring--they're sitting in front of their computers, just like you. One of the items my Facebook feed has been trying to sell me recently is a book called Dark Agenda, which subtitles itself as The War to Destroy Christian America, which, briefly, caused me to wonder: Hot damn! Where do I sign up?
And, moreover, the author of the book, David Horowitz, is dead, a casualty of the war. His lifeless corpse was found floating in the Hudson river, bound head and foot with NPR bumper stickers…
No. He’s dead, all right, but he died of being 80 years old. In truth, the war against Christianity couldn’t be going much worse. Prayer wizards and prayer warriors pop out of the woodwork at every national tragedy, reminding us that hurricanes and school shootings happen because we’re not beseeching Jesus enough to stop them, plus, you know, the gays. Several states have mandated that “In God We Trust,” be painted on the halls of every school within their boundaries, thinking that looking at this prayerful phrase will keep their state’s children from being a grubby lot of unpleasant teenage wankers whose only real interest in their squirmy little lives is sending each other amateur porn on their cell phones.
The Catholic Church has been exposed as a pedophile ring the likes of which Epstein could only dream of, but it still has enough real estate and a sweet old Pope that everybody loves, so it will probably survive indefinitely. Meanwhile, the nouveau riche of Christianity, the preachers of the Prosperity Gospel, are rolling in it, thanks to the number of people who believe that giving other people all their money will make them rich, which is as easy to believe in as the Virgin Birth, which these people also believe in. I mean, could finding your target audience be easier? And it’s all tax-free.
Rationalism is as taxable as ever, and we get no holidays, despite this column constantly campaigning for Darwin Day, a day on which a kindly old man with a beard flies around the world in a magical sailing ship, giving science toys and puzzles to the clever children of the world, after which families decorate the Evolutionary Tree and eat dinner off the Table of Elements.
Even if we get out of bed determined to throw off Christian hegemony every day, how do we do it? Pray for it? Even if, by some miracle, which we don’t believe in, Christianity vanished tomorrow, we would still have every other religion, plus karma, crystals, astrology and lucky rabbit’s feet for people to put their faith in, because nothing is ever going to convince most human beings that there is absolutely no way to influence their unknowable futures, other than taking care of themselves and putting the maximum amount possible in their 401(k)’s. And that only works sometimes.
We’re not going to organize rationalist protests, where we carry signs saying SHIT JUST HAPPENS, DEAL WITH IT and RANDOM CHANCE WEARS THE PANTS, because we don’t have a deity commanding us to do useless, pointless things. This is our key flaw. So, Horowitz has conveniently died before his prediction could be proven false, which most prophets, theirs being the most cowardly of professions, conveniently do.
Might as well go back to bed.
And, moreover, the author of the book, David Horowitz, is dead, a casualty of the war. His lifeless corpse was found floating in the Hudson river, bound head and foot with NPR bumper stickers…
No. He’s dead, all right, but he died of being 80 years old. In truth, the war against Christianity couldn’t be going much worse. Prayer wizards and prayer warriors pop out of the woodwork at every national tragedy, reminding us that hurricanes and school shootings happen because we’re not beseeching Jesus enough to stop them, plus, you know, the gays. Several states have mandated that “In God We Trust,” be painted on the halls of every school within their boundaries, thinking that looking at this prayerful phrase will keep their state’s children from being a grubby lot of unpleasant teenage wankers whose only real interest in their squirmy little lives is sending each other amateur porn on their cell phones.
The Catholic Church has been exposed as a pedophile ring the likes of which Epstein could only dream of, but it still has enough real estate and a sweet old Pope that everybody loves, so it will probably survive indefinitely. Meanwhile, the nouveau riche of Christianity, the preachers of the Prosperity Gospel, are rolling in it, thanks to the number of people who believe that giving other people all their money will make them rich, which is as easy to believe in as the Virgin Birth, which these people also believe in. I mean, could finding your target audience be easier? And it’s all tax-free.
Rationalism is as taxable as ever, and we get no holidays, despite this column constantly campaigning for Darwin Day, a day on which a kindly old man with a beard flies around the world in a magical sailing ship, giving science toys and puzzles to the clever children of the world, after which families decorate the Evolutionary Tree and eat dinner off the Table of Elements.
Even if we get out of bed determined to throw off Christian hegemony every day, how do we do it? Pray for it? Even if, by some miracle, which we don’t believe in, Christianity vanished tomorrow, we would still have every other religion, plus karma, crystals, astrology and lucky rabbit’s feet for people to put their faith in, because nothing is ever going to convince most human beings that there is absolutely no way to influence their unknowable futures, other than taking care of themselves and putting the maximum amount possible in their 401(k)’s. And that only works sometimes.
We’re not going to organize rationalist protests, where we carry signs saying SHIT JUST HAPPENS, DEAL WITH IT and RANDOM CHANCE WEARS THE PANTS, because we don’t have a deity commanding us to do useless, pointless things. This is our key flaw. So, Horowitz has conveniently died before his prediction could be proven false, which most prophets, theirs being the most cowardly of professions, conveniently do.
Might as well go back to bed.
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