Sunday, March 24, 2013

The Goblin Slayers of Door County

In eastern Wisconsin, a peninsula known for cherry orchards and apple wine juts out into Lake Michigan. Comprising three-quarters of the Door peninsula, Door County is known for rocky shorelines, lighthouses, and fish boils. Given the tourist whimsy of Door County, the origin of the its name is surprisingly sinister. Just north of the peninsula's tip is a chaotic strait known as Porte des Mortes- literally, "the door of the dead." Though the strait has a grim reputation as a harbinger of shipwrecks, the name is apparently linked to a battle between two Indian tribes occurring early in the 19th century, in which warring parties were swept out into the deep due to an ill-timed wave. But despite shipwrecks, tribal wars, and killer waves, the county remains a place synonymous with rocky shorelines, good fishing, and quirky Midwest charm.

When I was fifteen, during a particularly snowy winter in the mid-90's, I had the privilege of visiting Door County with my best friend Mark and his family. The Ericksons had ancestral ties to the land, and retained the property of Mark's now deceased grandfather. Situated just north of the Mud Lake State Natural Area, the property was substantial, and wonderfully arcadian. A two-story farm house with wood floors and lots of windows was flanked by a tool shed and encircled almost entirely by pines. Before it crouched the shell of a stubborn old barn, austere in looks and purpose, replete with thick doors, wood ladders, and a hay loft. 



Mark, his younger brother, and I spent the morning in the grandfather's workshop- a single storied, one room hovel clad with gray pine weathered by the bite of one hundred winters. A porcelain doorknob gave us entry, the groan of old hinges heralding our arrival. Work benches lined both sides of the workshop entirely, every inch occupied with industrious clutter: Ball and claw hammer, hacksaw and hand drill, drivers and cutters and jointed rulers. On the back wall and on the rafters above hung tools of less delicacy: Shovels, rakes, McLeods and pulaskis- every handle oak and every head rusty. I imagined, and still do, a skilled artisan fashioning wares of rustic charm here, a bearded man of mirth, wisdom and gentleness, filling the air with the sound of wood manipulated and the low hum of a Scandinavian folk song now forgotten.

Today, however, the air was filled with the clumsiness of youth. Ambitiously we set to work, creating instruments with which to bludgeon any potential foe. Rambling packs of wolves, helm-horned goblins, or pagan forest tribes like the Ostrogoths of old- enemies of all sorts could be lurking in the wildlands of this peninsula. Fair time was invested in our weapons, and broom handles didn't stand a chance. Clamped and cut with the rusty teeth of a old saws, they would now serve more noble, pressing purposes. Lee the youngest, red-haired and bright, finished first, the end product resembling nothing more than a blunt wooden club wrapped in electrical tape. Mark his brother-wiry, quick, and a bit less white than snow- used three yards of rope to attach a rusty tow hook to a rod of oak. Two lengths of doweled pine connected with chain hammered into the ends by thick staples was a monstrosity I beamed over, and we burst from the shed swinging wildly, ever aware of the unnerving range of Mark's death hook.

A row of pines at the edge of the Erickson property marked the end of civilization. Passing through was akin to reaching the end of Lewis' wardrobe. A steep embankment before us marked the beginning of a snow-crusted prairie filled with yellow grasses waist high. Ringing the edges in a circle, like the enveloping arms of an overbearing mother, was a phalanx of pine and white cedar. Wind rushed up to meet us, less a greeting than a warning, as we slid down the rocky bank onto the tussled rye below. While we had no destination, it was understood that up here, we belonged to the forest. So we crossed the wild grasses, pausing for a moment to take in the fullness of what lie ahead.

The fallen snow creates a shady canopy, a low-lying cover that gently holds the forest floor in its grasp. Peering inside, a strange world appears, cavernous yet dappled with diffused brightness, blue and silver, ivory and brown, and everywhere the virgin white of a million snowflakes. Few things entice as the winter forest. It is a kingdom unto itself, with clearly defined borders, dukes and baronesses, stalwart monoliths towering over the saplings below. It is no wonder the forest finds itself so often the setting for stories mythical. Sherwood, Mirkwood, Black. Thieves and elves and Will-o'-the-wisps. A place of healing or where one meets one's end. It is wise to enter with nunchucks.

In addition to arming ourselves, we'd given each other names as well. Though I no longer recall what they were, I suspect grand titles such as "Grim the Unflinching" or "Throgg the Bloody" were not far from the mark. We tromped through the magic like a jolly party of medieval troubadours, mockingly singing a pop song we'd heard on the radio during the trip up, violently felling any dead tree so brash as to stand in our way. For hours it went on like this, our energy and warmth sustained and our imagination boundless. Eventually we stumbled upon a circular glen within the forest, within which stood a solitary aspen. It seems such a perfect anomaly now, a single tree within a single circle within such a remote forest. I half expected the greeting of an elf king, or the tightening of a wood troll's trap around our ankles.





We paused here, transfixed with the scene around us. A short distance away lay a curve of limestone rising from the forest floor like a giant turtle, its shell large enough to accommodate a war council. In the other direction we could just make out the point at which the forest ended and Mud lake began. Mark swung his hook weapon around a weak tree limb and yanked. The branch crashed to the ground with a dense thud, breaking the still wintry quiet.


I read a lot of J.R.R. Tolkien during these years, and an awful feeling had swept over me as I neared the end of his "Rings" trilogy. This fantasy that I was so invested in, that surged through me during every moonlit walk and caused me to wonder what really dwelt in earth's most remote corners...was ending. It's obvious now that I found, like so many others, an escape in the pages of Tolkien, a place to abide where, if only momentarily, my own hangups were abated. Perhaps this is why, looking back on the forests of Door County, I can't help but bemoan the reality that I saw no goblins or furry tribesmen. I longed for a place (and still do) where the myth becomes reality. The mall, the television, video games- none are worthy escapes. But the woods-the quiet places where owls and hawks and badgers dwell, where the artifices of man do not sully and the roar of machines are largely unheard- these are of a myth worth getting lost in.

I've pondered for years that odd fondness for the monster, wondering why there should exist any desire whatsoever for encountering the foul things of Tolkien's Middle-Earth. It's probable the answer lies in the endearing simplicity of a world of such clearly defined evil. Consider that the irredeemable enemy is one who's destruction conscience can never disgrace. Kill the monster, and you've engaged in heroism. Not so with the serial-killer or pedophile or sex-trafficker. Hurt them outside the imposed bureaucratic boundaries of today (or oftentimes even within) and look forward to a lengthy legal proceeding, or worse. In our modern world, the heroic act can often be one of complication and dubiousness. But it is hardly so complex in Middle-Earth. Roving bands of orcs with diabolical intentions are to be met with but one, mortal solution, for theirs is a mind outside the reach of rehabilitation.


But I'd like to think that my reveries and the cathartic forest adventures paralleling them went deeper than mere escapism or the facile categorization of good and bad. The question begging to be asked, of course, is why does anyone want to escape? And further, when they do, why do they want to kill goblins? Obviously, as these questions probe topics existential and spiritual, an answer of true substance is outside the range of this memoir, but it may be sufficient to just simply say I often felt uselessly unhappy at this age, and that in the winter woods of Door County there was a place where an insecure, overweight, and angry adolescent could part company with his own monsters, and join with the hero, the adventurer, the goblin-killer. 

We walked on frozen Mud Lake and the wind grew increasingly stiff. Around our feet, in bushy patches here and there, wind-bowed coon's tail and burr reed fought the ice's choke. In warmer days, emerald dragonflies roost here, but in December, they slumber as nymphs below. Our weapons, splintered and cracked as they were, required the attention of old tools and new electrical tape. A gravel road which winded through the timbers saw us safely to the farm house, and a tiny foyer was suddenly cluttered with cracked leather boots, cumbersome dark coats, and bright-colored flannels. Hours later, the dining room became the gambling hall of a Mississippi river steam-boat, and we haggled over disputations akin to a river boat gambler. The din of poker chips, shuffled cards, and southern accents spilled into the living room where Mr. and Mrs. Erickson, each lost in a book, found their own escape.


Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Bratty Kids Should be Mauled by Bears

Despite the orthodox Christian belief in the divine inspiration and infallibility of the Bible, I know few Christians who are not bothered to at least some degree by certain passages within the Old Testament. Genocide, incest, rape and foreskin removal, it can all be found within the pages of the first 39 books of the Christian Bible. Granted, these things are not necessarily condoned by the author, but when the modern reader is merely given a glimpse of the ancient world through our own "civilized" lenses, it can be a disturbing vision, to say the least.

Case in point, the story of the prophet Elisha and his somewhat exaggerated reaction to being taunted:

"From there Elisha went up to Bethel. As he was walking along the road, some boys came out of the town and jeered at him. "Get out of here, baldy!" they said. "Get out of here, baldy!" He turned around, looked at them and called down a curse on them in the name of the Lord. Then two bears came out of the woods and mauled forty-two of the boys. And he went on to Mount Carmel and from there returned to Samaria." 2 Kings 2:23-25

Admittedly, this passage brings out my twisted sense of humor, as I can't help but picture Elisha post-bear attack, casually stepping over the bodies of mauled kids while whistling a favorite Jewish hymn, a smile of smug victory pasted on his face.

But my psychological issues aside, this is a really tough passage to digest. Not only did a prophet of God ask for two bears to appear and annihilate a bunch of kids, but God himself approved of the request! I've known some really bratty kids in my time, but even at my angriest I can't say that I necessarily wanted them to be torn to shreds by a wild animal. It just seems that no matter what the circumstances, no child deserves such a bloody fate. At least, that's what I used to think.

And then I watched the following video:

Sadly, the bus monitor failed to call down a curse upon the boys, and hence two bears did not board the bus to maul their stupid little faces. Let's hope that if such a horrendous event occurs again, Karen Klein will recall Elisha's reaction, and act accordingly. Divine She-Bears...ATTACK!

Critical Thought and the Mighty Spoon Bender

According to new-age psychics, with a little concentration, anyone can "channel" their energy and exhibit super-human strength by twisting a poor, innocent utensil into a worthless hunk of metal. The YouTube comments accompanying the following video say it all. While the majority are insults (and hence, also bad internet form), the rest seem to be incredulous converts to the cult of spoon-bending, asking for advice on how to maximize the bending, and apparently buying the so-called zen sight process hook line and sinker. When watching this, some things to consider are:
Is the spoon aluminum? Is it possible that hand-warmth can heat the spoon for easier malleability? Are there any signs of editing in the video? (didn't see any, but always check) How is this different from a black-belt punching through bricks? And if not, did every black-belt exhibiting super strength in the past utilize this woman's philosophy? Are there not people in the martial arts who are, indeed, opposed to this philosophy (atheists, Orthodox Jews, Christians, Muslims, many agnostics, etc. etc.) who have kicked through oak boards or torn phone books in half?
The women's overall point, I believe, is that one can heal one's "concerns" (whatever that means), with a little focus. The unfortunate reality, however, is that those who happen to subscribe to this point of view usually appear a little more "off" than the rest of us, and hardly, if ever, display the sense of extreme enlightenment advertised by gimmicks such as these. My point is, the mind is an amazing thing, and telling me that I need to subscribe to your somewhat creepy belief system so I can bend a few spoons is quite honestly a little bit silly.You can bend a spoon? Whoopty-doo, I can do more push-ups. Now go channel a cure for cancer and I'll be impressed.
The Power Team is unimpressed with your spoons!
con

Monday, July 30, 2012

The Oatmeal, a Frightening Display of Simplification

Admittedly, I felt a little sad for picking on The Oatmeal last week. Generally speaking, it truly is an impressive piece of work, and I harbor no small amount of respect for the author. But then I read the following: 



Wow. Where does one even begin? Once again we've been presented a scenario in which the Christian is portrayed in less than flattering ways. The brilliant, independently-minded atheist, using airtight logic, destroys the reasoning of the intellectually-challenged theist (who just so happens to not possess a shred of independent thought as evidenced by the telling line, "my pastor told me."), all while calmly sipping away at his coffee (the body language in this bit says a lot).

It should be instantly noted that in the third panel, the atheist uses the exact same reasoning as many Christians by utilizing a defense that claims atheism did not cause those deaths, a "twisted little asshole" did. Apparently, when the Christian uses the same logic in response to the Crusades or the Spanish Inquisition (just because they identified themselves as Christians doesn't mean Christianity caused them to do terrible things), it doesn't count. It seems that double standards abound in the atheist mindset.

We are then informed that Hitler was actually a Christian, which, as anyone making an honest appraisal of history will note, is an utterly absurd statement. However, I will be the first to argue that labeling Hitler as an atheist may be equally untrue. The fact is, we can't say with certainty what exactly Hitler identified himself with. There are plenty of statements by Hitler in which he appears to be confessing faith in some sort of god, or in which he appeals to Christian sentiment, but there also exist many statements which seem to indicate that the man held a deep animosity towards both the Christian faith and the Christian god. At the end of the day, Hitler had Bibles in schools replaced with Mein Kampf, murdered millions of Jews, dabbled in the Occult, and was generally a really, really sick guy. It's pretty easy to conclude that whatever Hitler believed himself to be, he most certainly was not a Christian. Besides,  politicians are quite fond of saying anything and everything that serves their own purposes, whether truthful or not. And one thing we can all agree on, Hitler did a lot of lying. The tired and overused tactic of "Hitler was (fill in the blank)," is a cheap shot, plain and simple. As "The Straight Dope" so perfectly explains:

Hitler wasn't a Christian, he was a freakin' teapot! 
"...atheists looking for a quick cheap-shot may claim Hitler was a Christian; similarly, Christians looking for a quick shot may claim he was an atheist. Know what? Hitler was a vegetarian! Oooh, those evil vegetarians! He also recommended that parents give their children milk to drink instead of beer and started the first anti-smoking campaign. (So by the "reasoning" used in these types of arguments, if you are truly anti-Hitler, you should smoke heavily and only give your baby beer!) Better watch out, though he was an oxygen-breather, too! In other words, does it really matter whether Hitler was an atheist or a Christian or whatever? Just because somebody may hold a particular worldview (along with other views) doesn't make him a spokesman for that view, or even remotely representative of others who hold that view." 

The author then makes the point that Stalin and Hitler did not go to war in the name of atheism, as if that somehow relieves atheism of bearing any guilt for such actions. But doesn't the atheist repeatedly claim that he does not believe in anything? Rather he follows reason and evidence alone? Given this claim, in what universe would we ever see someone going to war in the name of atheism? Once the individual has denied God, something else will invariably take his place, whether it be money, power, or ideology.  And what have atheists gone to war over? Money, power, and ideology! Obviously no one is claiming that Stalin raised a banner with the word "Atheism!" brightly painted upon it just prior to implementing his various atrocities, but the strongly held belief that there was no god by which Stalin could be judged was absolutely pivotal in his complete disregard for human life. What the author so painfully fails to realize is that whether or not Stalin, Pol Pot, or Mao Zedong went to war in the name of atheism or not, their policies were directly influenced by their beliefs. It does, after all,  logically follow that if one accepts the tenets of Nietzsche (who was extremely pivotal in forming the mindset of Hitler, among others) and if one applies Darwinism on a social scale, human beings are not really worth much of anything. When the human has been reduced to the level of evolved insect, in what way is it not logical to squash said insects when they have become bothersome?


At the core of this discussion, however, is this fact: When one commits atrocities in the name of Christianity, they are acting in direct contradiction to the tenets of Jesus Christ. Search all you want, there is no zealous call to religious genocide within the pages of the New Testament. Jesus inspired his followers to engage in the counter-intuitive act of enemy love, an idea which is at once beautiful and repulsive. Yet, can we truly say the same of Stalin? Atheism has no tenets that cannot be completely revised by cultural leanings, so if the Communist Party of the Soviet Union decided it was moral to kill political dissenters by the tens of thousands, how can the moral relativist argue with them? 


It is yet again a wonderful twist of irony that the atheist would ever once consider criticizing Christianity for abuses against mankind. Given the massive bloodbaths which arose due to far too prevalent atheistic mindsets during the twentieth century, Christianity, though given a 2000 year head start, can never dream of equaling such travesties. The body count for which we may blame godless political ideologies is staggering (Stalin's purges resulted in the deaths of 61 million Russians, while Mao's Cultural Revolution saw 70 million, to cite just two). Does this mean atheists are nasty, mean-spirited people incapable of any moral good? Of course not. The argument has never been the capability for good within atheism, it is for the less than compelling reasons to do good within atheism. No reason for moral objectivity results in a malleable moral objectivity, which in turn can result in any number of evil deeds done in the name of good.


As we can see, the logic employed by The Oatmeal's author is less than convincing, and the criticisms leveled against Christianity are biased, misrepresentative, and naive. For the sake of intelligence and fairness, might it be incumbent upon the author to stick with what he knows? Like Nikola Tesla and how to pet a kitty?

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Aspirations of Vigilantism

The recent release of Christopher Nolan's "The Dark Knight Rises" has led to a few moments of nostalgia, most of which, are, or should be, sources of embarrassment.

I don't recall being the happiest of kids. And like many unhappy kids, I spent a lot of time in my own head, and in the pages of books and comic books alike. The arrival in the mail of Frank Miller's "The Dark Knight Returns" was a day of great rejoicing for 13 year old Jason, and for the next few nights, I reveled in the mean streets of Gotham City, cheering on Batman's extreme outpouring of justice upon the criminals of his world. And I suppose that it was that specific concept, Justice, which drew me to this vigilante so exuberantly.
Terrifying. Absolutely Terrifying.

Wherever it came from, I'd had an extremely strong sense of the differences between right and wrong for as long as I can remember, and with it an equally strong sense of indignation when those who did wrong were left unpunished. And so I dreamed, and spent many hours conjuring up images of myself donning a black ninja costume, wielding a quarter staff (pretty much a broomstick sans broom), bringing my own version of justice to the dark streets of Onalaska, WI-population: 13,536.

It's funny that despite absolutely no martial arts training, and to be honest, no real fights outside of playground altercations, I honestly believed that were I to come face to face with a criminal, the fight would be over in mere seconds. I'd start with a swift, quarter-staff strike to the neck, follow it up with a devastating round-house kick, and bring the near-unconscious perpetrator to his knees with a fight ending leg sweep. Not once did it occur to me that perhaps the man, who would most certainly have at least ten years on me, would grab my little broomstick from me and pummel me with it, or just run away, concluding that ignoring a 13-year old kid would probably be the wisest course of action.


One night, as I waited in my mother's minivan while she shopped at our local Shopko, I noticed a store manager rush out into the parking lot. My mom, returning soon after, remarked that apparently a shoplifter had successfully escaped capture by Shopko employees, and was now, I surmised, celebrating his unlawful acquisition in some dark alley nearby. Wearing, I believe, a Batman baseball cap, a Batman T-shirt, and a dark denim jean jacket, I was perfectly equipped to heatedly pursue the criminal into the night, my Batman insignias a golden testament to the justice which would soon fall upon this wretched shoplifter. And for a moment, I seriously considered running around the Shopko store, searching for this pathetic thief, and confronting him with a voice of authority and a flurry of chainsaw punches. And then I remembered...I didn't have my quarterstaff.

You win today, criminal vermin.

Saturday, July 28, 2012

Islam, the Exception



Terry Jones of "Burn a Koran Day" fame
I stumbled upon Ruben Israel's Facebook page today. For those of you unaware, Ruben is a self-professed "street preacher," who has interpreted the apostle Paul's words in Colossians 4 ("Let your speech always be with grace, as though seasoned with salt...") to actually mean "people won't listen to the Gospel unless you employ a megaphone with plenty of threats with eternal repercussions."

I'm no stranger to aggressive street-preaching. During my undergrad work at Portland State, I had plenty of exposure to these men, who came in groups of three to five, one being the designated screamer, the others holding massive placards listing the innumerable ways to earn oneself a place in Hell. Apparently, God has even seen fit to judge one's political or economic preference, as I vividly recall the inclusion of "DEMOCRATS" and "SOCIALISTS" as those ensured a fiery fate.

I am, however, pleased to say that this extremely aggressive approach to soul-winning is a scant minority within the Evangelical Christian movement, and hence I'm usually inclined to meet it with little more than an eye-roll and a shrug (Plus, reasoning with a man who has convinced himself of his own sinlessness is an achingly fruitless endeavor).

What caught my eye on Ruben's facebook page, and which grieves me to no end, is the enduring strain of Christianity which has decided that Christ's words on enemy love ("But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." Matt. 5:44) apparently do not apply to Muslims. It's fascinating that while even the most well-meaning, educated Christian, who questions nearly every media-fueled presupposition thrust upon our culture, will nevertheless swallow the "MUSLIMS ARE TERRORISTS" stereotype with gleeful aplomb.
Apologies to my Muslim readers.
Images such as this one grace Mr. Israel's page, accompanied by such comments as "My favorite Ramadan food!" and "Should be ground up and put in all western societies public water. That should help stop the invasive species that are muslims." Now, I can only hope that such comments come from those who don't ascribe to the Christian faith, but what if they do? It's all too easy to mitigate such venom with excuses such as "They aren't REAL Christians like me," but how could I possibly know such a thing? Undoubtedly, I've done my fair share of detestable things in life which could have easily earned such a statement from a far more pious and well-behaved believer, so it, apparently, is not that easy.

So what of such imagery? It is deplorable, indeed, and intentionally insulting, widely offensive, and reeking of a sort of adolescent badgering which no adult, Christian or non, should engage in. Does it warrant violent repercussions from the Muslim however? Of course not, but that's hardly the point. We should no more engage in such tactics against Muslims due to what they might do than we should not antagonize anyone for the fact that they may react in a sinful manner. And to flip the issue, the Christian does not refrain from such antagonism simply due to fear of violence, but for the love which we simply must pour out to all.

You are evil! Come to my church!

It seems that out of all the competing worldviews today's Christian faces, Islam stands alone as the one in which we have been given a "no love necessary" card. Understandably, much of this arises from an extreme black and white view of the Israel-Palestine conflict, in which Palestinian Muslims are akin to Satanic agents bent upon the destruction of God's people, and who thus are painted in a sort of demonic light whereas Christ's love does not apply.  One beauty of the Gospel, however, is its stark simplicity. Are some Muslims terrorists? Yes. Do some Muslims which to enact Sharia in America and the world? Of course. Would some Muslims love to see the destruction of the Christian religion? Definitely. Are they exempt from the love of Christ? The answer is, of course, never.
New friends in Egypt



I agree wholeheartedly that burning down embassies and engaging in murder in reaction to an offensive cartoon is utterly absurd, sick, and wrong. And conversely, I hold such intentional offensiveness to be both childish and abrasive. If the follower of Christ is to be, in Jesus' words, "a light of the world," it follows that we should avoid intentional antagonism of others, and instead do our best to ensure that our speech and actions manifests the words of Paul in Philippians: "Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy- think about such things." 


Obviously we need to do our best in combating injustices, and speaking out boldly against those who would perpetrate acts of violence in the name of God. Similarly, we should "speak the truth in love" to all Muslims, accepting the reality that they may never listen, and that the extension of love to strangers and enemies is not conditional upon their acceptance of our message.
They are out there.
But so are they: Muslim apologist Shabir Ally and Christian philosopher Bill Craig share a friendly moment post-debate


To conclude, I disagree with Islam wholeheartedly.  And I try to love Muslims, wholeheartedly. Obviously I fail more often than I care to admit in the practice of love, and I know all too well the disturbing ease in which I objectify others. I'm thankful I've been given a perspective of Muslims in which I find them easier to love than others, but I'm all too aware that my patience runs childishly thin when faced with worldviews I have difficulty grasping. May God help us all to suspend our fear and hatred of those whose beliefs run counter to our own, and to employ a patience and love which can only be explained by the presence of the Divine within our hearts.











Friday, July 27, 2012

Thoughts on The Oatmeal's Thoughts on Religion




Recently, the generally amazing website, "The Oatmeal," published a bit titled, "How to suck at your religion," and sadly, displayed once again that, when it comes to religion (particularly Christianity) ignorance and negativity reign supreme in web land.

Right off the bat, the author implies the tired assumption that Christians somehow possess a greater amount of self-righteousness than others with the question:


Let's be clear on a few key facts:

1. Every single person on the planet, whether atheist, Buddhist, or Christian, makes moral pronouncements. The problem with raising an objection to "judging," is that in some form or another, we are all guilty. And yet, sometimes, we should be guilty. Oftentimes, recognizing that an action is indeed, wrong, is the first step in extending a hand in help to the individual engaged in such an action. And be perfectly honest with yourself, you really weren't sure that that guy who cut you off in traffic last week wasn't a self-involved "asshole," but did that stop you from making the judgment?

2. The second an individual criticizes another for something deemed "judging," they are in essence engaging in the very act of judging themselves. Not to mention, this entire page is one judgment against the religious after another. Did the author miss that? 

3.  "Judge not" is one of the most abused verses within the Bible. The guy who said it (Jesus), was also fond of standing up in public places and calling Pharisees "white-washed tombs" and a "brood of vipers." I for one, believe he was right on, so does "judging" really mean that we are not to make moral pronouncements, or does the author need to go deeper in his understanding of this word?

4. In the most negative sense of "judging," like when you really are being a total dick, religion really has nothing to do with it. Humans are more than capable of aspiring to great heights of self-righteousness with no such help at all. Just look at some of the leading atheists today. Those guys are total dicks (oops, a judgment).



The next question is, to put it simply, completely ridiculous for a number of reasons.



To begin with, it's difficult to name even one individual related to scientific discovery prior to the modern era who was not extremely religious in some sense. Secondly, the modern controversy over stem cells was and is far more complex and nuanced than this representation. To be clear, I'm neither Catholic nor against stem-cell research, but by simplifying the stance of the opposition, the author commits the straw man fallacy, and makes the opposing viewpoint appear absurd. Obviously, there is an attempt at exaggerated humor here, but when wrapped in a moral pronouncement (using stem cells for research is right, logical and scientific), it is more maddening than comedic. And, if I'm not mistaken, hasn't the author judged the religious yet again?


Now we begin to enter the realm of sheer absurdity, as the author apparently believes that no parent with religious leanings (so, umm...like 6 and a half billion people?) should teach such beliefs to their child:

Here comes that Straw Man again! Twice!

Isn't it interesting that the majority of atheists I know were raised by atheists? And the majority of agnostics by agnostics? The point is, parents raise their children with certain beliefs simply because those parents are convinced that those beliefs are the most proper way by which one should live one's life. While it saddens me to see a child raised to embrace atheism, I don't accuse the atheist parent of "forcing dogma" on their child, because I'm pretty sure that most likely that parent loves their kid a lot and has the best intentions.

The next question is one in which most of us can identify with:



However, as obnoxious as that Mormon or Jehovah's Witness visit can be, it usually has nothing to do with the validation of one's beliefs. Bear in mind that when that pair of young Mormon men are at your door, they're not there because of some sort of lack of confidence in Mormonism, they're there because they genuinely believe their religion and they genuinely care about other people, namely you. If someone honestly believes that you are going to Hell, and they honestly believe that by having a discussion with you, a complete stranger, they can curtail that event, who are we to accuse them of being obnoxious or needing validation? Take it as a compliment, be courteous, and ask yourself, how often do you bother others with your beliefs? The atheist astounds me: He has a message of absolute meaningless coupled with an eventual heat-death for the entire planet, and yet he's often ten times the evangelical than the average Christian! The Christian offers a message of hope and reconciliation with God, leading to an eternal paradise, and yet we want the Christian to "stop forcing your beliefs on me!" Fascinating stuff, all around.


The next question, in a page chock-full of mockery, deals with mockery:

And yet again, the straw man.
Here we once again see evidence of the true target of the author's mockery, Christianity. And again, the Christian belief is presented in such a way as to make it appear that anyone who would ascribe to such a belief is a complete idiot. Isn't it wonderful that I could do the exact same thing with atheism? Just fill in the caption with, "Everyone knows what really happened is that nothing existed, and then, for no apparent reason whatsoever, every single atom in the universe appeared, ordered itself into an astounding level of complexity, made a planet in which a single cell with mind-blowing complexity magically decided to self-replicate and resulted in human beings with the capacity for intellectual and spiritual thought!"

Hmm..now that I look at that, I'm not sure if it's even a straw man. Take out the word "magically," and that really is the atheist belief in a nutshell. Astounding. I didn't even need to exaggerate.



And, now for the finale:

I'm sure that if you are a religiously minded person, you are now relieved that the author has given you permission to carry on with a religion that, though utterly meaningless and insignificant, makes you "happy." Of course, there is this one caveat, that you "keep it to your ****ing self." And with that strikingly painful bit of irony, dear readers, I leave you with this, a link to Google images for the word "atheism." Enjoy the lesson in subtlety, tolerance, and above all, proselytizing.
God loves me? Keep it to yourself zealot! God doesn't exist? Preach it brother!