 
The First Thing We Do is Kill All The Isms

(Observations about ideologies, idiots and glimpses at the meanings of life)

by Howie Siegel

Copyright 2013 Howie Siegel

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An empty head is not really empty; it is stuffed with rubbish. Hence the difficulty of forcing anything in to an empty head.

\- Eric Hoffer

Look: if everyone must suffer, in order with their suffering, to purchase eternal harmony, what do young children have to do with it, tell me, please? It is quite impossible to understand why they should have to suffer and why should they have to purchase harmony with their sufferings? Why have they also ended up as raw material, to be the manure for someone else's future harmony?

\- Ivan to Alyosha in _The Brothers Karamazov_

**Table of Contents**

Preface

**Introduction**. Glenn Beck and the Ism Business

**One**. Let's Begin: Isms

**Two**. Are You an Ismist?

**Three**. Why Nabobs Really do Natter

**Four**. How I Became an Ism Fighter

**Five**. Elephants, Voltaire and Rick Perry

**Six**. Pacifism

**Seven**. Environmentalism and PETA

**Eight**. Patriotism, the Constitution and Strict Constructionism

How to Read the Constitution

Strict Constructionism

**Nine**. Mother Nature, Creationism and Intelligent Design

**Ten**. Making Sense and Nonsense out of the World: Religion Isms

Give me that Old-Time Religion

The Modern Era: Gods with Humanity

Low-Hanging Rotten Fruit and Cherry-Picking

The Honest-to-God God

Nostradamus, the Amazing Randi, and Doubting Thomas Jefferson

The Voice of God

God-Fearing

The Antichrists are among us

**Eleven** : Agnosticism and Atheism

**Twelve** : Making Sense

Physics and Evolution

The Light Fantastic

The Eternal Battle: Entropy versus Evolution

The Emperor and the Wizard

The Amazing Hippopotamus

Eve, God Love Her

A Very Personal Glimpse

Footnotes

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Credits

Preface

_Kill All the Isms_ examines what happens when you surrender your brain to the people who claim to have a monopoly on the one true thought system for living out the rest of your days. Communism, Evangelicalism, Pacifism, Creationism, Fascism, Environmentalism, Conservatism, Liberalism, Objectivism—there are more "one true thought systems" than you can imagine. Ideologies, worldviews, and religions are pre-programed ways of filtering how you think about the world. They are all variations on a single theme: thought control and management.

Isms are very much like Carnival Cruises. They set out for predetermined destinations that someone else decided was the place you ought to be going. You buy the whole cruise package because you are too lazy or frightened to set off on your own. You want somebody else to do the work, make the decisions, and tell you what sights you should be seeing. Places you have never been can be frightening when you have to explore them on your own. Foreign restaurants serve funny food and you can't be sure what you are getting. Signing up for a cruise ensures that you will always be able to come back to cruise buffet. There will always be a warm cheeseburger waiting for you.

The message of this book is simple: don't buy the ideological package. Don't wear their blinders. You will never see what is there for you to see if you cruise on the _Ism Ship._ They will take you to their ports of call, their marketplaces, their local entertainment, their version of a proper and safe destination. You won't wind up going any place worth seeing.

Once you surrender your gifts of reasoning and objectivity to an ism salesman, you enter a closed system of thought—a thought prison that someone else designed for you. A prison with pastoral scenes painted on the walls and three meals a day is still a prison.

Even the seemingly sacrosanct notion of "objectivity" can be turned into an ism. Ayn Rand turned objectivity into "Objectivism." She attained a cult like following with the publication and enormous popularity of _The Fountainhead_ and _Atlas Shrugged._ While Ayn was busy thinking great thoughts (including making lots of proclamations about what _she_ concluded was objectively true and objectively morally correct) she had a lengthy, objectively morally imperative affair with a young student named Nathaniel Braden, who she would later designate as her intellectual heir. Rand and Braden were both married and justified their affair to their respective spouses using principles of — you guessed it—completely rational Objectivism. The two most enlightened people on the planet _ought_ to be together. And once someone decides that her way of thinking was the one true way, any lunkhead should be able to conclude that playing "hide the fountainhead" with Nat was right _thing to do._

Here is how Braden described Ayn Rand and objectivism in his memoirs:

"Ayn Rand is the greatest human being who has ever lived."

"Ayn Rand, by virtue of her philosophical genius, is the supreme arbiter in any issue pertaining to what is rational, moral or appropriate to man's life on earth."

So if Rand declared an affair to be moral, it must have been moral. I rest my case. Now, take Braden's patently stupid proclamations and substitute the following men and their ideologies for Rand and objectivism: Hitler and Nazism, Stalin and Communism, Osama bin Laden and Islamic fundamentalism, Pat Robertson and Evangelicalism.

By the way... how exactly would one go about _objectively_ determining if Ayn Rand was the greatest human being who ever lived?

Ayn Rand had some wonderful ideas. And some terrible ones. _Atlas Shrugged_ brilliantly demonstrated the inherent flaws and evils of Communism and Fascism. I happen to agree with much of what she preached. But she was not a deity and does not deserve to be worshipped by anybody.

Don't be a fountainhead. Decide for yourself whether her praise of selfishness is as rational as she said. _Laissez_ isn't always fair. Think about the savings and loan crisis, AIG's magical derivatives, Enron, monopolies, and price-fixing.

I asked one of the smartest guys I know — who disagrees with me about half of the time, and who is trained in the disciplines of the law, higher math, and economics — what his worldview was about the government's role in the free market. He thought about it for a couple of days and wrote me as follows: "The government should stay out of the markets, unless it clearly shouldn't."

You will have to read this book to understand how profound his quip really is. I will put that wisecrack up against Rand's version of _laissez faire_ any time and any place.

Introduction

Glenn Beck and the Ism Business

"Isms," "Ideologues," and "Idiots" all start with the letter "I." I learned to be on the lookout for these alphabet clues from Glenn Beck. I confess that I have been a fan of Glenn Beck for a long time. I find him entertaining. I admire the fact that he overcame a serious fifteen-year addiction to alcohol and drugs and he did it through sheer will and determination. That is not something to ever make fun of. It is something to be in awe of. It's just that, along the way, I fear that his substance abuse may have killed off a few too many of the brain cells that are responsible for the ability to reason.

Nevertheless, he puts on a hell of a show and I am more than a little sad that his popularity seems to be fading. Watching Glenn Beck try to explain complex things is a little like watching a neutered Shih-Tzu try to hump a German Shepard. You cannot help but watch, laugh and admire his determination.

Glenn is a big fan of letter clues. They contain scary secrets. You just have to be clever enough to spot them. During his short-lived TV shows on CNN and FOX, he revealed the secret meaning in letter clues on a blackboard. He would write out the words, stacking them neatly one on top of the other, then identify the key letter of each word and show his audience that the message of the conspiracy _du jour_ that was right in front of them. My all-time favorite was this one:

OBAMA

LEFTIST

INTERNATIONALIST

GRAFT

ACORN STYLE ORGANIZATIONS

REVOLUTIONARIES

HIDDEN AGENDAS

Glenn circled the first letters with dramatic determination, as if he were imprisoning poisonous insects, and announced that the magic secret message of these horrors was...OLIGARH.

I immediately went on line to see if the _oligarh_ was a prehistoric reptile with a long nose. I couldn't find anything. I did, however, find the word "oligarch," which means a person who is part of a system of government where power is vested in a few people. It seems that sometimes these secret alphabet messages are missing a letter. I also could not help but notice that the same letters, when rearranged, spell RAGHILO. But never mind.

I began to see similar alphabet coded messages in stacks of words that seemed to come at me from every direction. Here is one that jumped out at me the day after I watched the Glenn Beck OLIGARH show:

GLENN BECK

PARANOID

LUNATIC

DELUSIONAL

COMPLETELY NUTS

If you look carefully (I have underlined the secret letters for you so you can keep reading without breaking your pace) you will find a C in the first word, an R in the second word, an A in the third word an N in the fourth word and a Y in the last word. This spells... CRANY. Which, my friends, is pretty darn close to CRAZY.

I have an alternative theory (if I turn out to be wrong about the drug-induced brain damage hypothesis) about Glenn Beck. It also applies to Rush Limbaugh (who may have done similar damage with Oxycodone) and Ann Coulter (for whom it is likely that there is no excuse other than the fact that she may have been born with an extra vicious gene). I think it is possible that none of them are the extremist lunatics they make themselves out to be. They might even be secretly progressive. They could be pulling our legs. And they are making tons of money with their circus acts. I suppose it is also possible that they are simply ideological sociopaths who will espouse any idiotic conspiracy theory, no matter how outrageous, ridiculous, or incendiary, if it will get them attention.

Attention translates into money. The more people who are attentive, the more money they make. Or they may simply be crany. It's hard to tell.

But here is what we have to worry about: Beck has legions of followers who see the connections in the letters, who watch him write words on the chalkboard and then smack themselves on the knee and say, _Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. I would have never figured that one out! Mildred, where'd I leave my gun?_ The people who follow Glenn Beck's alphabet decoding are known in the vernacular of political science as... morons. And there are lots of them. They vote and are heavily armed. They park their brains next to their remote controls and wait to be told what to think. They are what the common-sense philosopher Eric Hoffer was the first to call, "True believers," the title of his wonderful book. And they are scary. Much scarier than Beck, Limbaugh, and Coulter. Because they are the ones from whose ranks the trigger pullers will come.

When a bullet takes out George Soros or President Obama or someone else who Beck has demonized, he will claim he was misunderstood. He will say all the appropriate things about being against violence. He will make a sad face that demonstrates disapproval and attack those who point to his reckless instigation as sick opportunists or communists. And he will make a lot of money. This is his business.

And business is good. It always has been. It always will be as long as men are afraid to think. It is the business of selling what I call "isms."

This book is my attempt to instigate mass death and destruction. Not death and destruction of men, but death and destruction of bad ideas. Death and destruction of ideologies, worldviews, and the _business_ of indoctrinating the masses. When you finish reading, I hope you will join me and agree that the first thing we should do is kill all the isms.

Notes

\- On July 18, 2010, an unemployed parolee named Byron Williams opened fire on California Highway Patrol officers who had stopped him for driving erratically. He was armed to the teeth and wearing body armor. He was arrested, subsequently interviewed, and stated that he was on the way to start a revolution by killing people in the ACLU and an organization called the Tides Foundation. Few people had ever heard of the Tides Foundation until Glenn Beck had begun warning his followers that it was funded by George Soros and a cesspool of the progressive worldview—which Beck had thoughtfully warned the faithful—that was a cancer eating away at America. Beck had repeatedly suggested that the Tides Foundations funneled money to extremist leftist organizations and was behind a plot to create mass organizations that would seize power. In an interview given to Media Matters, which can be read here  http://mediamatters.org/research/2010/10/11/progressive-hunter/171471, Bryon Williams said that he learned about the Tides Foundation watching Beck on FOX, and said Beck, "was like a school teacher on TV." Who knew the chalkboard could be so inspirational?

I am not suggesting that anyone blame Beck for planting the insane seeds of violence in the mind of a moron.

Just kidding... Of course I am.

One

Let's Begin: Isms

I have a good friend who has been a critical thorn in my behind for as long as I can remember. I told him about the concept for this book using what I thought were some sophisticated philosophical ideas. After listening patiently, he said, "So, your thesis is that extremism is extreme and hypocrisy is hypocritical?"

Armed with my always-at-the-ready rapier wit, I retorted, "Well, sort of."

A good friend will bust your ass when it needs busting and he will let the helium out of your head when it begins to swell and you start talking funny and convince yourself that you are breathtakingly profound. Contrast him with the guys who hang around people in power, always telling them how awesome and deep they are. They are corporate vice presidents and guys who are employed full-time to walk behind and agree with politicians. Spiro Agnew, the last great political master of alliteration, would have called them seriously solicitous sycophants. The rest of us know them as suck-ups.

Picture the entourage working for Donald Trump, telling him how great his hairstyle is and how small his ass looks in golf shorts. Original thinking for some people consists of coming up with new ways of telling the men they work for how wonderful they are. And they are the ones who are most likely to be carrying the battle flag of an ism in one hand and a pitchfork in the other.

What drives them through life is mostly fear. Fear of being on the wrong side of the power fence. Fear of not belonging to the right club or clan. Fear that they aren't seeing the world the right way and somebody else is getting ahead of them. But mostly fear of having to figure things out for themselves. These are the guys who will jump headfirst onto an ism wagon and vilify _you_ for daring to ask where it is going or how many people it will run over on the way there. They will call you names, shout in the language of empty slogans, and identify you as belonging to the unpopular worldview of the day—the bad flavor of the month.

For the past few years, it has been the socialists and the progressives. When Stalin was in power, anyone who disagreed with the state-sponsored ideology was a running dog lackey of fascist, capitalist imperialism. With Hitler, it was the Jews. With Joseph McCarthy, it was communists and people he decided were sympathetic to the cause. If you believe in supply-side economics, you are a one-percenter. If you believe in Keynesian deficit spending, you are a wealth-redistributing socialist. Evangelicals spit out the "secular humanist" label like sour milk. Glenn Beck will gleefully tell you that "secular" and "Satan" both start with the letter S. Think about _that._ But don't spend too much time. Beck's brain-numbed legions will actually see and understand the connection.

It gets dumber and dumber during every Presidential election cycle. My recent favorite was Newt Gingrich's use of the term "Kenyan anti-colonialist"—by which he really meant "uppity foreign-born black guy with a chip on his shoulder." They both mean the same thing, but the former was a politically correct, _faux_ -professorial way of getting his message out to the extreme right wing of his base without starting a second Civil War.

To be honest, I count myself among the anti-colonialists. Now that I think about it, I wasn't aware that there existed a large contingent of pro-colonialists—Kenyan or otherwise.

Name calling does not, of course, promote the intelligent and free exchange of ideas. The labels in vogue today are nothing more than adult versions of the childhood name-calling fights where you called your sister a dodo-head and she said, "Well, you were one first!" Come to think of it, "dodo-head" scores more points in an argument than "Kenyan anti-colonialist."

The labelers are always pandering to those who have bought into the "us and them" ism. They are ismists and ismists need to find enemy ismists to rally their followers. Identifying the threat of enemy ismists is how they define themselves. They are true believers in all sorts of worldviews.

The psychology probably isn't much different than loyalty to a football team if you stop and really think about it. The typical football fan is usually created at a young age because of his father. My family lived in Washington, D.C., so we were Redskins fans. The Redskins were owned first by George Preston Marshall, an avowed racist who refused to allow blacks to play for the team. Maybe because they were supposed to be Indians, and whoever heard of a black redskin? Or a red black-skin? I was about ten. We knew that black people were not allowed to play for Washington, a city that's population was about seventy-five percent black. We were anything but racist, but we still cheered for the team. Amazingly and inexplicably, so did the blacks who lived in Washington. They were _our team_.

The Redskins, named after a racial slur (imagine a team called the Chicago Negroes or the New York Jews really didn't deserve any fans or allegiance. It didn't make sense. But we didn't question things like that. If you were born a Redskin fan, a Catholic, Mormon, Jew, Jehovah's Witness, Democrat, or Republican, that's what you were, and that was what you stayed—from cradle to grave. We never bothered to ask ourselves why we were believers in the righteousness of a Redskin win over the Cowboys.

Most ismists think no deeper about their allegiance to a worldview than the guy who paints his belly burgundy and gold and sits through a Redskins game with his shirt off, screaming, "Get him!" We always wanted our guys to "get" a quarterback named Roger Staubach who played for Dallas. We hated Dallas. Why did we? I'm not sure. We just did. Perhaps we held them accountable for President Kennedy's assassination. I confess that I still have a very unfavorable and mostly irrational view of that place, which will become evident as you read on.

Most of the time, the rabid football fan and true believer are harmless, and the extreme believer is just a kook. But sometimes they can be dangerous. Sometimes they evolve into packs of monsters, like the roving packs of soccer hooligans in England. Think about this: there are British soccer fans who beat people to death _because they cheer for another team._ There is no other reason. The other team and their fans are the enemy. Life is simple for these monsters and they never ask one another why they beat people up. Try to interview one of these "fans" and ask _why_ Manchester is the enemy and you will get beat up for _asking_. Ask _any_ fan why he is a fan of his team. You may not get beat up, but he will look at you like you are nuts. _Because we are! They are our team._ That isn't a question he asks himself. He doesn't need or want to explain _why_ he is loyal to his team.

Thinking is effortless when you have proclaimed an unwavering allegiance. People didn't do much introspective thinking about loyalty under National Socialism in Germany.

The process of deciding what to believe in and connecting the dots (real and imaginary) all originated innocently enough with our evolutionary need to organize our world. A complex mix of sense impressions bombards us every second of our existence. We need to make _sense out of what we encounter. We notice things. Day follows night and clouds precede rain. We need to organize and understand the relationships between these events to avoid being eaten and to get the crops in. We need to plan in order to survive. Figuring out what is going to happen in our immediate future and what causes_ things to happen allows us to avoid what will injure or kill us and promote what will keep us alive or give us pleasure. That part is simple enough, and easy to understand.

Where it gets off the track is when our compulsion to figure out causal connections becomes irrational and we get it horribly wrong. Pat Robertson comes to mind. He connects hurricanes hitting New Orleans and earthquakes devastating Haiti with our collective failure to follow the rules that were set forth by the god he insists that we all must believe in.

Ismitis can be an insidious, deadly, and sometimes fatal disease of the mind. The fatalities usually occur to the people the true believers decide are on the _other team,_ the team they have attached a bad ism label to. The team that must be stopped. The disease can become viral when we surrender our ability to independently reason over to somebody else's worldview that does our thinking for us and tells us how we _should_ be thinking about things. The incredible willingness of Rush Limbaugh's listeners to embrace and be proud of their identity as "ditto-heads" speaks volumes. If everything Rush says is right, there is no need to expend mental energy by thinking.

So, in a sense, my friend was right. This book _is_ about extremism. But it's also about the extremism process. How we get from _Hey, it might make sense to look at it this way, to Hey, this is the only acceptable way to look at it and I think I will kill you and all your kind if you disagree._ Isms provide prefabricated easy answers. All of the thinking has been done for us. Just open the package and follow the easy instructions. No thinking required. No thinking allowed.

Notes

\- George Preston Marshall was the last holdout among NFL owners to allow blacks to play on his team. He proudly carried his racism to his grave by specifically excluding minority children from an endowment he established to assist Washington area underprivileged children. You can read more about it here:  http://www.examiner.com/article/george-preston-marshall-entrepreneur-racist.

Two

Are You an Ismist?

If you fervently believe in almost anything that ends in an "ism," or if you proudly call yourself almost anything that ends in an "ist," then chances are you are going through life with a big stupid cone on your head. It's a cone like the one your dog had to wear when you brought him back from the vet with a bad ear infection. You know. That ridiculous-looking, inverted, wrap-around plastic cone that attaches to his collar and keeps him from scratching his infected ear so it will have a chance to heal. It makes him look like a sidekick to Bozo the Clown. The cone ensemble is funniest on a bulldog, because he was three-quarters of the way to Bozoville when he was born. But another side effect is that it interferes with his peripheral vision, so he has a harder time seeing the sneaky cat that is crawling across the floor to steal his favorite squeaky toy and head for high ground. Cats will do that to a bulldog for the pure joy of irritating the living shit out him.

The vet sent Winston home with the cone not to deprive him of his dignity, but to give him time to get better and keep him from scratching his ear. A bulldog doesn't have much dignity to begin with. That's probably why he is so lovable and why he will seem happy to just sit there while your four-year-old daughter puts a little Mexican sombrero on his head.

I knew a vet once who put sales first and healing second. He had honed the skill of convincing his patients' loving and devoted owners to spend thousands of dollars to prolong the suffering of dying pets. Aunt Margaret would almost always turn over her social security check quicker than he could say, Yo _u want to give Precious every chance to fight and live, don't you?_

Precious is a nineteen-year-old poodle. She can barely walk. Precious whines all day because she has a malignant tumor in her throat that is causing her enormous pain every time she swallows. The surgical procedure the vet is selling today is a train wreck and a horror show of a procedure. Precious is going to die a terrible, slow death and have to visit the vet's ER (open 24/7 because we care) several times at fifteen-hundred dollars a night while "recovering." The vet knows that Aunt Margaret has bought into a worldview that embraces the sanctity of canine life. It goes like this: no matter how much suffering Precious is going through, life is a gift granted by God and must be preserved—no matter what the cost is in pain to Precious or dollars to Aunt Margaret.

What I would like to hear Aunt Margret say is, _No. I would like Precious's last act on earth to be to bite your filthy little testicles off, you greedy little bastard._ But we know that Aunt Margaret is going to say, _Of course, Doctor. Do whatever you can._

Aunt Margaret has a cone on her head that keeps her from seeing what is really going on. The vet helped put it there and secure it firmly. There is probably nothing anybody can do to get it off. It's the _sanctity of life_ cone. Reality is just off to the side in her blind spot. Aunt Margret wants and needs desperately to believe that (a) Precious will live to fight another day, (b) Precious's suffering will stop almost immediately after she hands over her Visa card, and (c) the vet is a good and kind man who is there to help her and Precious in their time of need. What she has plenty of at that moment is _faith_ and that kind of faith will knock the living shit out of reason about ninety-seven percent of the time.

Faith salesmen—like the vet—work best in the shadows. Faith salesmen always prey on victims who are partially blind. The weapon of choice against these guys is, of course, reason. Reason is the way to engage and battle with blind faith. But reason requires effort, courage, and light. Reason can lead us to a place we wish wasn't there, an unpleasant place that we don't want to even think about. In this case, it's the _time to let Precious go_ place.

Faith is a compelling and seductive place of shelter and comfort, and provides the faithful with an immediate irrational sense of comfort. If we buy into faith, we can feel better immediately. We won't be any better, but we will _feel_ better.

M. Night Shyamalan followed his wonderful movie _The Sixth Sense,_ ("I see dead people")—which, arguably, had the best 180-degree ending in movie history—with a scary movie called _The Village_ , not to be confused with the Villages, a place in Florida that would also provide an excellent setting for a scary movie. _I moved to the Villages because Nancy Lopez said I could play free golf for life and when I got there... Oh, my God! I see almost-dead people doing water aerobics!_ Anyway, for those of you who didn't see the movie _The Village_ , here is a brief summary in which I will now spoil the ending for you. Don't worry, the movie wasn't that great and Roger Ebert hated it and had trouble giving it even one star. I thought it was just okay. I would have given it 1.5 stars. I haven't thought much about it until today.

The story takes place in an idyllic eighteenth-century village in Pennsylvania. It is a community where everyone knows everyone else. There are plentiful crops every year, lots to eat, and life is simple and clean. But it turns out the people in the village have made a deal with the monsters that live outside the woods at the village limits. The people will not venture out beyond the marked boundaries and, in return, the monsters will not come into the villages and eat them. Seems like a small price to pay. There may be monsters out there waiting to tear you limb from limb, but as long as you stay where you are told to stay, you will be just fine. Anyway, there is no reason to wander outside the boundaries because the people have everything they could possibly need.

Fear of what is out there and a feeling of security keeps them at home in the village. Maybe it is like the Florida Villages, after all. Well, you know what happens. There is always some curious kid who has wanderlust and an abundance of testosterone and who won't leave well-enough alone. Maybe he is bored with his crop-gathering job, or he has been rejected by the cute little village girl. You know the type. He's the kid you just can't keep on the farm. He, of course, strays beyond the forbidden zone and foreboding events happen—but you never see the monsters. _Because there are no monsters_. It's all... well... bullshit, designed to keep everybody happy and content in the village.

It turns out the village isn't even in the eighteenth century. It's here and now. It's a kind of zoo... A "life in the good old days" experiment to keep a small society cohesive, unspoiled, and perfect in every way. There are people on the outside who have created this artificial world for the villagers to live in. The leaders on the inside are in on the fraud. And as long as they keep their wards _believing_ in the monsters and in the goodness of the life they have been trained to lead, everything will be just peachy. Obedience is the path to happiness. The entire society has been created inside a cone. Sort of like Liberty University in Lynchburg, Virginia.

Isms promise you _exactly_ that kind of happiness. They put everything in order, feed you just what you need to get through from day to day, and make the bad things like hurricanes and death much too easy to understand. All you have to do is hand over your brain, abandon reason, agree to be obedient to one way of thinking and promise not to stray beyond the boundaries and not to ask any tough questions.

If you do those things, if you behave yourself, you will be angst-free regardless of what happens to you, because High Priests of your ism have planned it all out for you. They will provide all the answers you will ever need. It's a variation on the old theme that ignorance can be the supreme source of bliss. There are people who count on that—like the Catholic priests who abuse children and the televangelist vampires who feed on social security money. Or the communist organizers who promise to take wealth away from those who _they_ feel don't deserve it and give it to those who _they_ decide are more worthy. And all of them have one thing in common: they don't want you to think about what is beyond the boundaries.

My daughter wanted to be a Brownie. She was recruited at school and went to some meetings. Then, one day, it was time for the Brownie induction ceremony. I was a proud parent, but I wasn't sure about the uniforms. Or the uniformity. But I went anyway. Possibly because my wife threatened to kill me if I stayed home. Little Samantha was taking the pledge and there was stuff about doing good deeds and being a good Brownie and I was nodding off and then I heard the pledge part about never questioning the authority of a Brownie leader. And I was about to go Polaris-missile-ballistic and turn the induction ceremony into a bowling alley, but my wife held me in my chair and again threatened to kill me (a recurring theme in our marriage) if I created a scene. So I waited.

When we got home, I told my daughter the Brownie pledge was bullshit. I may have used the word "poppycock," but she understood. I told her that any time she felt in her heart that somebody was telling her to do something that was wrong, she should ask as many questions as she could think of. I told her that _not asking questions_ was what was wrong. She didn't last very long in the Brownies. I was very proud.

And while I'm on the subject, you need to ask a ton of questions before you give all those hard-earned retirement dollars over to The Villages. It's probably fine. But you should still ask questions.

We like to see and organize things in ways that make us feel better about our world. We love to watch the air freshener commercials that paint the world in beautiful colors and promise the fragrances of wild flowers and fresh sea breezes. The world can seem to be an almost incomprehensibly beautiful place —depending on which part of the world you choose to look at. And then there is the white-faced monkey. You've seen him. He is an adorable little devil who lives in the trees, is smart as a whip, was the star of an _Indiana Jones_ movie, and will sit on your shoulder and take a treat gently from your hand. He is the organ-grinder's monkey. In Central America, he is Rousseau's perfect miniature innocent savage living harmoniously with nature and eating fruits, nuts, and berries that he finds in the Garden of Eden. Or so it was thought until recently.

On a recent trip to Costa Rica, I learned that the white-faced monkeys are even smarter than we thought. They have figured out how to work together to tease and taunt a mother Coati Mundi and distract her while their co-conspirators grab her baby and rip it to pieces.

Nature isn't always green trees, red roses, and vegan monkeys. I'll bet you felt much better about the organ grinder's best friend when you had the cone on your head, when you didn't see what was going off to the side or have to think about the Coati Mundi baby's screams. They do scream, by the way. The Discovery Channel always edits out the parts when the screaming starts.

Isms make us feel better about almost everything. There is one that teaches us that everything that is _natural_ is good. The way God intended it to be. But you won't find high priests of nature worship telling you about the bloody white-faced monkey feast. Scientists who are not afraid to look into the dark discover unpleasant things like that.

We sign up for isms like the hopeful saps that come to the "get rich by spending more money" seminar at the Holiday Inn. We don't want to be left behind while the other people who know "the secret" get richer. We sign up because Thoreau was right when he said, "Most men lead lives of quiet desperation."

The forty-seven-year-old stock room clerk, who works in a Costco warehouse, has a boss who delights in busting his ass for no reason. He spends every waking hour he is not at work drinking beer and watching TV shows about rich, happy, beautiful people (I could have stopped with TV shows). He will make a fine recruit for the neo-Nazis or the communists, because he needs something to make him feel he is better than his tormentor. Finding an ism to believe in guarantees that we will feel special, safe, superior, smarter—and like we belong. We have joined the "in crowd." Isms make us feel like we have a leg up on the non-believers. The anti-ismists. Or the other ism tribe. The heathens. The unfaithful.

Isms give the illusion of creating order and meaning out of the randomness and intrinsic unfairness of life. And it really all comes back to the infinite kinds of suffering that are waiting to claim us as victims. Suffering—the most difficult of all human experiences—is almost impossible to process without an explanation that involves either (a) a higher purpose, or (b) someone to blame. Many isms evolved to help us deal with our fears about the inevitability of suffering. The world, after all, is a violent and scary place.

But isms almost always turn into dangerous shortcuts. They can lead us away from the clarity we are looking for and lead us down the road to the forest of shadows and delusion. They are brain blinders. They keep us from seeing what else is out there. They replace reality with that rose-colored cone and its narrow view of the world.

The prophets want to control the way in which you process the world. To make sure you can only see what _they_ want you to see and what _they_ have decided is best for you to see. Isms come in all flavors. They come in equal doses of the religious and the secular. Isms replace reason with faith in a prescribed way of looking at things. They insist that you be _obedient_ and faithful...kind of like Winston the faithful bulldog. Winston is a good dog. He has been to obedience school. He acts appropriately and like we want him to. He is predictable and easy to control. He knows and has faith that we will feed him and take care of him.

You need to ask yourself if you have a little too much in common with Winston.

Some isms are given to you with the best intentions and some are given to you with the specific intent of controlling you. Sometimes the ism peddlers are out to get your money and sometimes they claim to want to save your soul. Sometimes they're sincere and sometimes they're venal. You need to look at them carefully and critically. If you meet an ism on the road, you should try to kill it. See how tough it really is. Put it to the test. Anyway, it's always a good idea to check if you are wearing a cone. Then check to see how tightly it is wrapped. If you are wrapped too tightly, you aren't going to see the cat coming to take your squeaky toy.

Jesus once said something like "None are so blind as those who will not see." Howie says Jim and Tammy Faye Baker were selling condos in a place that was never going to be built. And if you give your money to Jim and Tammy Faye, you are going to end up homeless.

Notes

\- This chapter is mostly pontification so it doesn't need notes. My rule on citations and notes is as follows: I make the rules. _The Chicago Manual of Style_ is only applicable in Chicago. I live on an island somewhere in South Carolina. Sometimes I will document things without any rhyme or reason. Sometimes you will just have to take my word for it. It really all depends on my mood. I will try to use web links whenever possible because (a) this ain't my Master's thesis, and (b) none of you would actually go read the reference unless I spoon-fed it to you, which is what a link is. The way I see it, you should be thankful I even bothered.

Three

Why Nabobs Really do Natter

The vice president doesn't do much. He can't even be compared to a backup quarterback, because the latter actually practices in case he is called into the game.

Spiro Agnew was Richard Nixon's vice president. Agnew's qualifications to be vice president were eerily similar to Sarah Palin's—he didn't have any. He had been governor of Maryland, where his most noteworthy accomplishment had been setting a record for the number of bribes accepted from building contractors. As vice president, he gained fame for delivering prepackaged pithy attack quotes, like this gem about Nixon's political enemies who he identified as "... an effete corps of impudent snobs who characterize themselves as intellectuals." I seriously doubt that in the history of American politics there has ever been anyone "effete" enough to identify himself as an intellectual. Think about it. Can you imagine even the most self-aggrandizing politician giving an interview to _60 Minutes_ and sayin _g,...and I identify myself as an intellectual. Ask me what Kierkegaard thought about the absurdity of existence._ Even Newt Gingrich would have to stretch to take his sense of self-worth that far... or maybe not. That would be the equivalent of putting a sign on one's ass that said, Kick me here. I deserve it.

It should come as no shock that the politicians who most often spit out the accusation of intellectualism (intellectuals are those people who use multisyllabic words and speak in complete sentences, like George Will or William F. Buckley) are the ones who are most likely to pander to prejudice and ignorance. When would-be populists like Agnew accuse their enemies of "calling themselves intellectuals," they create an instant class of enemies—that is, _people who think they are better than "us."_ The accusation expert doesn't think he is better than the people he is trying to get to vote for him. He knows it as a certainty. But the implication is _I'm one of the regular, simple folks just like you... we don't need any of those smart people to run this country._

Indeed. What this country really needs is to put more dumb people in charge. Agnew would have loved Texas governor Rick Perry.

White Republican politicians do not, of course, have a monopoly on stupidity. The dumbest human to be elected to Congress may be an African-American Democrat from Georgia named Hank Johnson. Hank was recently questioning an admiral who was testifying before his committee about additional troops and supplies being sent to Guam. Johnson had prepared well for the hearing and stumped the general by raising a potential calamity that no one else had thought of. He asked the general if he had considered the danger that Guam might tip over because the buildup of men and equipment might put too much weight on one side of the island. He really did. I could not make this stuff up. It's on YouTube and it is proof positive that there are elected leaders who are dumber than Irish Setters.

Second place on the all-time stupid list might go to Democrat Congresswomen Shirley Jackson-Lee from Texas. (What in the hell is it about Texas that gives us politicians in both parties who are idiots?) She complained in 2003 that the United States Weather Service was not giving African-American names to hurricanes. She shares second place with Congressman Jessie Jackson Jr. who gave a speech on the House floor pointing out the evils of the iPad that was costing Americans jobs at bookstores and publishing houses because people weren't reading as many paper books. Which is a little like saying that antibiotics are costing the country valuable jobs in the funeral industry. Not to be out-dumbed, the Tea Party darling Congressman Paul Broun announced that evolution and the Big Bang theory are "lies straight from the pit of hell". Broun is on the House Science Committee.

Governor Rick Perry gets my vote for third place. I would be remiss in failing to mention that Governor Perry, who is proud of his rancher-cowboy roots and boots, barely passed his class in animal breeding at Texas Tech. It's true. His grades are posted online. Completely unreliable sources speculate that he refused to attend most of his Animal Husbandry 101 classes because he thought it was the next slide down the slippery slope after the legalization of gay marriage.

First the homos will be a gettin' hitched and next they will be walking down the aisle with gay llamas! That's right. They will be asking us to bless unions between men and animals. That's where this is headed.

And while I am on the subject of slippery slopes, I should point out that ideologues make a living claiming they are the only thing that stands between civilization and the inexorable slide down the slippery slope of something or another. Usually the reason that the slope is so slippery is that they have spent years greasing it with bullshit. This was Spiro Agnew's specialty. He was also pretty slippery when it came to soliciting bribes.

His boss, Richard Nixon, you may recall, had issues with the press. The media proved somewhat pesky by refusing to accept everything he said as truthful. Go figure. Nixon didn't want to _seem_ vindictive and petty. He just wanted to be vindictive and petty. So, he unleashed Agnew, knowing that his vice president could be as vindictive and petty as Nixon was during the McCarthy days. Agnew couldn't actually write a speech or think up a clever line. But he had people who could feed him some scripts on his payroll. One of them was a man who would go on to carve a special place in the Hall of Fame of Political Lunacy. I am often accused—unfairly, I might add—of engaging in hyperbole, but this one is not in dispute.

That speechwriter was none other than Pat Buchannan, who would years later run for President of the United States, giving conspiracy theorists everywhere a new voice in national politics. That would be the same Pat Buchannan who rewrote the history of WWII and concluded that (a) Hitler wasn't such a bad guy; he was, in the immortal words of Eric Burton and the Animals, just a fool whose intentions were good... oh, Lord, please don't let him be misunderstood; and (b) the whole nasty affair was really the fault of France, Great Britain, and Poland. Yes, _that_ Pat Buchannan. It was Pat who penned the immortal and catchy description of the press as "nattering nabobs of negativism." That turn of phrase has stuck with me to this day. I often try to work it into ordinary conversations. When a fellow golfer has hit one in the water, throws his club in disgust, and utters a stream of nonsensical profanities, I will deliver a stern lecture and admonish him against being a nattering nabob of negativism.

When I first heard Agnew speak of nabobery, I remember thinking (a) what in the hell is he talking about?, (b) who wrote that atrocious line for him?, (c) it had to be Pat Buchannan, (d) what exactly is a nabob?, (e) where could I get one, and (f) why do they natter? A nabob (which, I should point out, rhymes rather nicely with Punjab, and I am astounded that Pat missed out on that when he wrote the line) was a provincial governor of the Mogul empire in India. Look it up. I don't have time to footnote all of this silly stuff.

This raises an interesting question for Pat: just what exactly were you trying to say? Nabob? I should mention here that I did several talk shows with Pat's sister, Bay Buchannan, back in the late '90s when I was the NBC go-to legal analyst for the law of fellatio (as in Fellatio Hornblower) during that important constitutional crisis that ensued as a result of Bill Clinton getting his trumpet tooted by Monica Lewinsky. A match made in heaven. Neither one of them would consummate a frowned-upon act by inhaling. Anyway, Bay seemed like a very nice politically conservative person, and when I asked about her brother and nabobs, she didn't have any idea what he or Agnew were talking about back then either.

So why, Pat, didn't you call them "Neanderthals" or "nincompoops"? Nattering nincompoops of negativism would have worked. I get the alliteration thing—but why nabobs? You really owe the world an explanation. But then again, who am I to question that which attained vernacular immortality?

Nattering is another one of those nifty words that sounds like one you should know. _Beaver, stop your incessant nattering right now and get down here for dinner before it gets cold!_ Nattering means nothing more than chattering. But chattering doesn't start with an N, and the alliteration sound bite would have bombed. That brings me to "negativism," a word that contains the dreaded ism that this book declares war against.

You see, it has occurred to me that you will think of me, like Agnew thought of the press corps (who were so thoroughly admonished by the Buchannan/Agnew attack that they spontaneously broke into fits of uncontrollable, sixth grade-type laughter) as a nattering nabob of negativism, because I have almost nothing positive to say about isms. And I am willing to admit that I have a _negative view_ of them. So, in anticipation of that criticism that I know must come, I would like to state unequivocally I am no such thing. There. That should take care of it.

Let the record reflect that I do not have a negative view of tourism, magnetism, nudism, criticism, rationalism—or jism, for that matter. And I am crazy about syllogisms, as long as they are constructed properly. There is nothing wrong with the science isms, like empiricism or skepticism. Those kinds of isms don't make moral decisions and judgments for you or insist that you see things their way. They don't identify enemies.

It's the _other_ kinds of isms with which I have a bone to pick. Take antidisestablishmentarianism, for example. It is hard to find many kind things to say (other than, _Really long word, dude. That is, like, so cool.)_ about a popular movement that fought against the withdrawal of state support for the Anglican Church in nineteenth-century England. In case you just said _Huh?_ to yourself, don't worry about it. You have a lot of company.

And, of course, in the hit parade of isms gone wrong, communism takes an undisputed first prize. In the history of human slaughter, the number one mass ism human extermination record holder is communism. No other ideology in the history of the planet comes even close. And that is saying something. According to estimates in _The Black Book of Communism_ , close to one hundred million people have been killed by communist totalitarianism—including sixty-five million murdered during Mao's reign of terror in China, and twenty million murdered by Stalinist Russia. Compare that to Hitler's murder spree of six million—not to decide who was worse, but just to get an idea of the scope of the mass murder.

One thing is for certain: communism is the clearest example in human history of an ism gone completely and irretrievably mad. Ironically, communism started out as social architecture designed to make the world a better and _fairer_ place. _Let's take everything away from the rich people employer types and create a workers' paradise._ Heaven on earth. For workers. And, even better, for communist party workers. While most Western religions promise to make your afterlife hell if you do not go along with their dictates, the communist manifesto became _Why wait if we can create Hell here and now?_

Christians are always quick to point out that atheism is a fundamental tenet of communism. Karl Marx is remembered, after all, for saying, "Religion is the opium of the people." Atheism, they argue, leads directly to a society without morals and a society without morals leads to communism. This quote is what has led Christian fundamentalists to conclude that anyone who questions their worldview must be an atheist-communist. Communism also claimed to be primarily focused on helping the working poor, so it makes you wonder about the political leanings of Jesus. Evangelicals go on to proudly point out that Christians have not killed nearly as many people as communists. Ergo, godlessness is a much bigger killer than religion. With God in the human heart—I include here the Islamic God, the Jewish God, the Christian God, the Aztec Gods, the Hindu Gods, and the Greek and Roman Gods—there have only been tens of millions burned, put to the sword, stoned, shot, crucified, hung, drawn and quartered, and otherwise made to stop breathing because they were non-believers. Atheists counter that we can only speculate how high the body count of the Spanish Inquisition and the Crusades would have been if the religious participants had planes, guns, nukes, and a larger population to slaughter.

It's an incredibly stupid and childish argument. Mass murder is mass murder, and once you get the "mass" designation, the body count shouldn't entitle the perpetrators be in a lower or higher ring in Dante's inferno. What they have in common is that somewhere along the line, ismists overwhelmed and stamped out reason. It does not matter to me which crazed ismist decides I should be dead because of my refusal to accept his beliefs. I am just as dead by either hand.

Extremism of one flavor inevitably produces extremism of another. It's an ideological take on the old physics principle of action and equal reaction. Or Whack-a-Mole, if you prefer. The extreme right-wing conservatives were spawned by communism. Almost everything the radical right perceives as a threat they believe is a slide on the slippery slope towards socialism and communism. Teaching evolution in school, rejection of Biblical literalism, government programs to help educate and feed the needy children, the progressive income tax, social security, Medicare, civil rights, cultural diversity—all are the first steps down the path to a totalitarian communist takeover. It rarely occurs to them that Americans elect representatives who _vote_ for programs that their constituents (mostly middle class) ask for, and that the process is entirely constitutional and democratic. It is as if the communists somehow altered the laws by secretly injecting evil wealth-redistributing programs onto the books while real Americans were sleeping.

They believe in the constitutional, democratic process of letting the people vote and decide... just as long as people vote and decide in lock-step with their ideology. Or they believe that the _wrong people_ are allowed to vote and shouldn't be. They believe in the rights guaranteed by the Constitution as long as freedom of speech and religion only applies to their kind of speech and religion. They believe in checks and balances and the judiciary as long as the judiciary rules the way _they_ think is appropriate. Anyone who sees things differently is progressive, a socialist, or a communist. And they are astoundingly oblivious to their own intolerance.

When Barry Goldwater said "extremism in defense of liberty is no vice," it probably never occurred to him that extremism can be the arch enemy of liberty. It's a little like saying that stupidity in defense of learning promotes education. Extremism devours liberty. The self-appointed extremist guardian of liberty grants unto _himself_ the power to decide what liberty is and is not. When he adopts extremism to protect his version, he is the most likely candidate to destroy someone else's. This was Tim McVeigh's precise worldview: protecting American ideals, liberty and our way of life by blowing up men, women, and children for being inside a federal building. Tim McVeigh was the American poster boy for defending liberty through extremism.

Some of the guys I play golf with will tell you that this way of looking at things proves that I am a liberal—or, at least, one of those progressives. I must be, because anyone who disagrees with what anybody says on FOX is a liberal, and liberals, as Ann Coulter will tell you, are nothing more than Communist Lights. I confess that I enjoy pretending to be a buddy of Keith Olbermann (I used to be his go-to legal analyst on slow nights) and making their blood pressure go up. It's almost like having a psychokinetic power. I would take it over spoon-bending any time.

Anyway, I had so many serious and loud disagreements in the locker room about FOX with one guy that we had to invoke the "tits and golf rule." We are only allowed to have conversations that involve those two subjects. Politics is strictly forbidden. He was first to violate the armistice with an unkind remark about Nancy Pelosi's views, which he coupled with an unkind remark about her breasts to show that he was playing fair (he thinks I like her, but I really don't think much about Nancy or her breasts), and I countered with an observation that I was certain that Dick Cheney was a lying, war-mongering, corrupt, draft-dodging chicken-hawk who probably would cheat at golf. I'm not terribly fond of Dick, so the shot, I admit, was fired purely for sport. Another member of our foursome pointed out that, although we were following the _letter_ of the "tits and golf" rule, the _spirit_ was in question.

My friend actually believes that FOX is "fair and balanced," because they say so every time before they spoon-feed their audience only one side of an issue.

Speaking of the FOX worldview, my favorite all time FOX moment—I watch it in the gym in the morning, because that is the station that is always on—was on their _Fox & Friends_ morning show with Steve Doucy and Gretchen Carlson. It was a few months before the 2008 presidential election, and they were doing a cutaway to a commercial when they showed a clip of Senator and Mrs. Obama at a rally with supporters cheering. The Senator came on the stage and gave his wife an affectionate little NFL/NBA-type fist bump. Gretchen left her brick-head audience to speculate in hot anticipation of the next segment with a teaser going to commercial break that asked whether the fist-bump was an affectionate love tap or a (shudder) terrorist fist-bump and promised to discuss the hot topic after the break.

And _that_ is why I love FOX. I didn't even know there was such a thing as a "terrorist fist-bump." I thought terrorists high-fived after a successful bombing. But, according to FOX, high-fives are so last year. FOX is how I stay in touch with important new trends. This was an important example of how fair and balanced they are, because they presented both sides regarding the important fist-bump issue.

Let's play the "What Am I?" game. I believe it is imperative that we do something about our national deficit. What am I? I believe in civil rights as guaranteed by the Constitution, and that it is better for ten guilty men to go free than for one innocent man to be incarcerated. What am I? I believe rehabilitation for violent criminals is a waste of taxpayer money. What am I? I believe that second-offender pedophiles should be castrated both chemically and surgically. What am I? I believe that the death penalty should be abolished—not because I believe there aren't those who deserve it, but because I believe that innocent men are executed in states like Texas. What am I? I strongly believe in the separation of church and state. What am I? I do not believe that freedom of religion, speech, or the press are absolute. What am I? I can see both sides of the right to choose/right to life debate. What am I? I believe the first Iraq war was necessary to throw Iraq out of Kuwait. What am I? I believe we were right to go into Afghanistan after 9/11, because that government had direct involvement in the attack on the World Trade Center. What am I? I believe staying in Afghanistan to engage in nation-building was a huge mistake. What am I? I believe the second Iraq war was ill-conceived and wrong. What am I? I believe that the Cardinals and Bishops and Popes who aided and abetted pedophile priests in order to protect the Catholic Church should be in jail. What am I?

If you can reach a conclusion about me with a word that ends in ism or ist, you are wrong. Because what I really believe is that it is important to look at things from as many angles as possible in order to arrive at a reasoned and reasonable decision about what course is best. And it is possible to do that only if you take the ism cone off of your head.

There are, by at least one Google site count, 887 words that end with ism. Whoever put that one together needs to get a life. Many of them are belief systems—organized and directed ways of thinking that tell us how we should look at things and how to make the correct judgments about them. I went through the entire list. It wasn't easy. But I confess that my attention span leaves much to be desired. I often find myself wandering down strange paths when I should be focusing. You may have figured that out already. I may stop right here and go to the driving range to practice the high-cut feather-fade 7-iron...

I did. I'm back. It's a very difficult shot.

When I finally got through the Big List of Isms, I found one that I thought might do the trick for me. Rationalism. And then I remembered René Descartes and the strange places that even rationalism took him. More on that in a little while.

Notes

\- According to Buchanan's book, _Churchill, Hitler and "The Unnecessary War,"_ World War II was mostly Churchill's fault and Hitler was a man of courage. (<http://mediamatters.org/blog/2009/09/02/msnbcs-pat-buchanan-defends-hitler-again/154154>) The same courage argument could be made, I suppose, for Jeffrey Dahmer and Jack the Ripper.

\- You simply must watch Hank Johnson try to protect the people of Guam from a reckless American policy of end-loading the island and causing a tipping apocalypse (<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zNZczIgVXjg>). It may qualify as the most unintentionally hilarious, jaw-opening event in human history.

\- If you really want to learn about the big list of isms spend some time at <http://www.morewords.com/ends-with/ism/>

\- With regard to Texas, I should tell you that I married a gal from Texas and she is very smart. So are her parents. Her mother often concludes that _I_ am the idiot.

\- I am rethinking my philosophical opposition to the death penalty. After today, I am afraid it may be an ism that I just can't stick with. Two teenagers were arrested in Brunswick, Georgia for murder. They approached a woman who was out for a walk with her year-old baby in a stroller. They demanded money from her. She didn't have any to give them. So they shot her baby in the face to teach her a lesson about not carrying money to give up to armed robbers. I really don't want to hear about their misdirected childhoods. I don't care. That kind of evil cannot be addressed, cured or understood. It needs to be killed. I will probably come back to my original position on capital punishment after I calm down but it is going to take a while.

Four

How I Became an Ism Fighter

When I graduated from law school and passed the bar, I immediately rented a tiny office on top of an old bank and hung out a shingle. The only ingredient standing between me and becoming a famous trial lawyer was trials. Clients, I realized, would also be helpful. Lawyers were forbidden from advertising in 1974, but even if I could have come up with a campaign, what would I have said? _Come to me because I have everything it takes to be a great litigator someday._ I was like the Woody Allen character in Love and Death who said he was a great lover because he practiced a lot when he was alone. What I was sorely in need of was a reputation as a fearless, out-of-the-box, mad dog trial guy... and the publicity that would come with it. But you have to win to get a reputation, and you have to win something important in order to get an important reputation. Handling public defender assignments and DWIs wasn't going to get me anywhere.

So I decided to pick a fight with the nastiest opponent on the planet. The dreaded National Rifle Association. I did not like guns. But what I really didn't like was the American gun culture. I was deeply affected by the assassination of John F. Kennedy. When it came to handguns, I did not believe that handguns should be registered—I believed they should have been confiscated and melted down. I suppose that made me somewhat of radical.

My views about guns really all started with a turtle and ended with an old black grandfather. Sometime around 1960, my father bought me a .22 rifle and a little book called _My First Rifle_ published by the National Rifle Association. That's what fathers uniformly did in 1960. Dad belonged to the Isaac Walton League, and we would go out to their retreat and target shoot. It was great fun. I have a vivid memory of going into my basement almost every day when I got home from school to take my rifle out of its soft carrying case. There was really something wonderful about that rifle. Just holding it was special and exhilarating. Anybody who has ever held a handgun, regardless of their views on guns, knows the feeling. The way it fits in your hand so perfectly, like your hand was designed around the concept of wrapping perfectly around the handle and your finger was made to rest lightly on the steel trigger. And the knowledge of what it can do. It just feels great to hold a gun and there is no getting around it.

But kids don't overanalyze things like that. They just go with the feeling. That's one of the great parts of being a kid. There are no quarrels with life yet. It wasn't until much later—after President Kennedy was shot—that I would develop my worldview about guns and men who played with them in their basements. But a year before that, something else happened that I would never forget. Something that taught me who I was.

My father wasn't a hunter. I'm not exactly sure why, but the hunting thing wasn't a necessary part of owning the .22. I don't recall it ever entering my mind that I would ever actually shoot something that was alive. We weren't against hunting or anything, so I didn't have any opinions yet. I just hadn't thought about it much. Back in 1960, hunting was as American as a Chevy Impala. Nobody was _against_ it. Hunting was something men did with their buddies and their sons. And, if they were lucky, they brought home a big buck and got to mount the rack in the living room, so all who entered would know that they killed it with just their bare hands and a big-ass rifle.

Hemingway was very popular. Hunting, fishing, and bullfighting were things that men did to reassure themselves that they were alive. It always seemed strange to me that causing death was thought of as the certain way to be sure that a man existed as a living thing. I always imagined Hemingway looking down at the African creature he had shot and thinking, _You are dead, my old friend. I'm sorry for you, but it is the only way I can be sure that I am alive_.

One summer Sunday, my family went fishing at a farm that a friend of my father's owned. The farm had a pond and Dad definitely _was_ a fisherman. Everyone was a fisherman. Except me. I fished, but it bored me to death. I never got it. I still don't. It wasn't that I felt sorry for the fish. It hadn't occurred to me that they were alive or anything. It just didn't seem like any fun. Maybe if I had read Thoreau or Hemmingway, it would have seemed more meaningful. But I was only eleven, so the extent of my reading was baseball cards. When I wasn't pretending to be fishing, I would swim in part of the pond, and Dad and my sister would fish in another part.

It was my sister who hooked the snapping turtle while fishing for sunfish. It was a huge, incredibly ugly relic from the age of dinosaurs. I had never seen one. This was not the little turtle you kept in a goldfish bowl and painted. This was Godzilla. A snapping turtle, my father told us, could take your fingers or toes off. And would. They were _mean_. This one sure looked mean. I had brought my .22 with me so that we could do some target-shooting. My father told me to go get my rifle out of the Plymouth station wagon. When I came back, he told me to go ahead and shoot the snapping turtle.

I wasn't sure. But he told me to shoot it in the head, and I did. It took a while to die. Snapping turtles are tough that way.

I need to make something clear. This was officially a father-sanctioned kill and the snapping turtle execution _needed_ to be done. My father told me it was what I was _supposed_ to do. It was a safety issue for my family and everything. This should not have seemed like a morally gray area. But it bothered me and I never got over it. To this day, I don't think I have gotten over it. The moment I pulled the trigger, I knew it was wrong.

Where, I often wonder, did that idea of wrongness come from? Certainly not from my father. Not from my country or culture. Not from any disembodied voice I heard. And it really doesn't matter. I was never surer of anything in my life than the wrongness of killing that turtle. It came from inside was all I knew. I understood what I felt and what I felt was shame. It didn't feel cool like it was supposed to. It felt _wrong_. That's how I knew it was. I never picked up the .22 again. Not even to target-shoot. Never took it out of its case.

That was the day I became me.

Not long after that, I remember thinking about the story of Abraham and Isaac I learned about in Hebrew school. I decided it was bullshit. It was a horrible story. And if it was a horrible story, then the commandment about honoring your father wasn't really inviolate. What if your father was a bad man who did bad things? I didn't have one of those fathers, but what if I did? Did a son still have to honor him if his father beat his mother after eight beers? Did that commandment have to be amended? Were there exceptions? And if I could ask questions about the Ten Commandments and the Bible, it was open season on everything I had been told.

It was a few years later that Lee Harvey Oswald shot President Kennedy with a mail-order rifle. I distinctly remember wondering if, for Oswald, watching the bullet hit Kennedy in the head was kind of like what it was for me with the turtle. I decided that it wasn't. We were different. We were _made_ differently. And it was something at our core that made us different. But, at the same time, there was something the same. We both went off in directions that no one could have foreseen. They were just different directions. Oswald had a very clear and certain worldview. He had signed on to an ism. It was called communism. I didn't know much about it, but I knew enough to figure out that if it encouraged people to commit murder, it was a bad way of thinking. I didn't know then that the death toll directly attributable to the communist way of thinking was approaching one hundred million. I began to question everything. I was probably very annoying.

Fast-forward to me at thirty-three. I hated guns and it was part of _my_ worldview. I had decided that the NRA was made up of desperate, impotent, right-wing fanatics, who fondled their guns in the basement and practiced quick-draw moves in front of a mirror like Robert De Niro's character in _Taxi Driver_. They were the guys who wanted to be ready when the commies came pouring across the Canadian border to gang rape their pick-up trucks. They couldn't wait for the invasion day, because when they got to fight the commies, they would get the respect they deserved. That's how I saw them.

I particularly hated the crime guns. The Saturday Night Specials, which seemed to me to be custom-designed for holding up 7-Elevens. Around this time, I met Olen Kelley. Olen was an assistant manager of a Safeway grocery store. One night, when he was closing up his grocery store, an armed robber shot him in the shoulder with a Saturday Night Special. He survived. He was fine, actually. But he was angry about thugs with handguns. The gun that put a hole in him was a .38 caliber made by a German company called Rohm Gesellschaft. It was called an RG Special. Gun guys would tell you it was a piece of crap. It sold for about thirty dollars. You couldn't hit much with it from twenty-five feet. But it worked real well if you were sticking it somebody's face during a hold-up.

I listened to Olen's story and I decided to do what lawyers do. I would sue the shit out of R.G. Industries. I think I sued them for a hundred billion dollars. I used theories that had never been used before. A law professor would have opined that they were complete bullshit. I sued them for strict liability for an inherently dangerous instrumentality, and aiding and abetting an assault and battery, and negligence.

There were canons of ethics in my profession that said you could get disbarred for filing stupid lawsuits, and most analysts agreed that mine was one of the stupidest suits ever filed. I didn't care. I had the best of all possible worlds: a German arms manufacturer that everyone would associate with the poison gas manufacturer, I.G. Farben; a gun custom-made for crime; a sympathetic client; an anti-gun worldview. Plus, I should mention that I knew damn well that I was going to be on TV. I knew that because I called them and told them all about my suit and they became very excited. I became a one-man legal freak show.

And I won. Let me write that part again in case you missed it. _I won_. The Court of Appeals of Maryland bought my harebrained legal theory. I got up at oral argument and did what I always did—waved my arms around and raised my voice and acted outraged. To this day, I cannot figure out why they bought it. I agreed with them, but there was no legal basis for their decision. And, to this day, no other court anywhere has bought it.

I was about to become a star. My very first stop on the Howie Tour was New York City and NBC's _TODAY Show._ Jane Pauley, me, and the official mouthpiece for the National Rifle Association—who, I am sure, was busy printing targets with my head in the middle. A four-minute segment going out live to _eleven million viewers_. Before I went on, I remember thinking that if I got a bad case of nerves and threw up on a live show, the entire country would be watching. That was not comforting.

The day had not started off well. The NBC mega-limo had picked me up that morning at the Berkshire Hotel and the driver had come into the lobby with a sign that had my name on it. It was a crowded lobby, and everyone was paying attention when he called my name— _Mr. Siegel, Mr. Howard Siegel._ That was me. I proudly strode across the lobby with my _That's right, it's me, and I am bad to the bone gait_. The limo driver opened the back door and I got in. And missed the back seat because it was so far in back of me and not where I expected it to be. I thought about explaining that this was a Zen exercise I do before I go on a show, but decided against it. However, while I had not prepared adequately for the limo ride, I had prepared for the sound bite war with the NRA guy.

Having watched these kinds of TV mini-debates, I had figured out that the guy with the best sound bites always wins. It's like the fight in the hall in junior high school. If you could hit a guy once before he was ready—hard, in the nose—the fight was over. A knee to the balls worked well, too, but that was considered to be against the rules. Nobody came back from a good nose shot. _Ow, that really hurts_ takes the fight right out of a guy. So I had prepared hard-on-the-nose shot. And when the bell went off and Jane asked me some dumb question, I told her I was glad she asked that, ignored her, and hit that NRA guy with a solid sound bite nose-shot while he was still practicing his on-camera disdain look. I leveled him. He never recovered. We rode back to D.C. on the same plane and he was very complimentary. He told me I logged over three minutes of a four-minute spot and he was going to catch hell. He also urged me to run for Congress because my position and decibel level would raise more money for the NRA than any scare tactic they could come up with.

What I discovered about myself that day was that I was fast and clever. In a street fight, fast and clever will kick the shit out of smart almost every time. It was never going to be a fair fight. Live TV was all about street fighting. When I got home, I had a media run that lasted about two more weeks. Two weeks in the media equals the proverbial fifteen minutes of fame that everybody is supposed to be entitled to. (I would go on to have a lot more media time about fifteen years later, but that's another story.)

I was doing a radio show not long after my _TODAY Show_ glory, and making all my clever canned arguments about guns, and saying things like, "The NRA would fight for the right of every idiot to have tactical nuclear weapons in his basement" (I still think they _would_ take that position if you got them in a closed room and gave them some hash brownies) , and pissing everybody on the other side off and having a grand old time, when an elderly black man called in to ask a question.

"Mr. Siegel," he said, "I live in the projects in D.C. I'm seventy-four years old. My daughter and my two grandchildren live with me. This neighborhood is full of drug dealers, junkies, murderers, and armed robbers who will break into your house and shoot you for a dollar. I'm guess'n you live in the safe suburbs and don't need a gun. I do. The police don't come here. I have an RG Special. It's all I can afford. It will work just fine when the time comes, but I hope to God it doesn't."

It wasn't a sound bite. It wasn't canned, fast, or clever. But it was true. My nose hurt. With one well-placed, gentle punch, that old man shattered my impregnable fortress. I had never considered people like him and their need for a cheap way to defend themselves. What that old man did was kill my worldview. And I never forgot it. Thank you, old man, whatever your name was. I'm sure you have passed on. I will never forget you.

You see, I had a vested interest in my worldview. It was getting me TV time, and TV time is a valuable commodity in this world. The more air time I got, and the more I honed my arguments, the stronger my worldview became. I was floating on my own hot air. And then it got shot to pieces. The answer was that it's a complicated issue. It was something that no ism could wrap up neatly. The guys over at the NRA could learn a thing or two from that old man. But I doubt that they would see it the same way that I do. They would say the country would be the way God intended if every man women and child carried a gun.

As I was editing this, twenty-six people—twenty of them little children ages six and seven—were massacred by a twenty-year-old man in Newtown, Connecticut. His name is not, and should never be, important to anyone. The slaughter was made tragically efficient by his use of a Bushmaster semi-automatic assault rifle. It looks exactly like the kind the teenagers pretend to use when they play video slaughter-fest games. That's what this young killer did for hours on end in his room. The weapon belonged to his mother. She apparently left him access to it, and was herself shot by her son multiple times. She was described as a "gun enthusiast."

The Bushmaster AR-15 is not a gun designed for target shooting. It is not a gun designed for self-defense. Unless, of course, you are planning on defending yourself against the guys who are coming for you in the "black helicopters". It is a weapon designed to kill groups of human beings more efficiently. This is exactly how it was used at Sandy Hook Elementary School. Killing lots of people is its specific design purpose.

An ad run by Bushmaster last recently in Maxim, a real man's magazine, shows the weapon with the caption, "Consider your man card reissued." Another ad in the Bushmaster "man card series" explains that a little boy named Colin is unmanly because he avoids eye contact with tough 5th grader classmates and pronounces that is man card is revoked. Bushmaster thinks a semi-automatic weapon sales campaign that mentions elementary school children is clever and funny. Wayne LaPerrier, a real man, a messiah to gun enthusiasts, and CEO of the National Rifle Association, loves weapons like this one. He thinks they should be available to almost everyone. He thinks our country would be a better place to live if more people owned them and carried them to church, schools, bars, hospitals, and rallies of people he considers political opponents. Wayne and the NRA think that assault weapons make us safer, better, and more manly. They seem to believe that we need to have them to use against the government in the event they decide that they government is going to come for us in the dreaded black helicopters. That's when they will be able to resort to what Arizona senatorial Tea Party candidate and professional lunatic Sharon Angle called "a second amendment solution."

One of the government actions that prompted Sharon to threaten a "second amendment solution" (which, I assume, means shooting government officials who were elected by a majority of the people in democratic elections who didn't vote in accordance with her worldview) was the passage of health care legislation to cover fifty million people who did not have access to it. Sharon was happier when they were uninsured. Sharon had decided that the legislation was unconstitutional. The Supreme Court disagreed. Maybe there should be a second amendment solution for everyone who disagrees with Sharon. By the way, she almost won.

Today, the Westboro Baptist Church (you remember them—they picketed funerals of the returning dead United States soldiers with signs that said "God hates fags") said that they wanted to picket the Sandy Hook Elementary School "to sing praise to God for the glory of his work in executing his judgment." These "people of God" fully support and delight in a slaughter of children they are convinced was ordered up by their God to punish the people of Connecticut for allowing gay marriage.

I am trying to decide who is more despicable: the Westboro Church or the NRA/Bushmaster/Sharon Angle crowd. Which worldview is more insane, God hates fags or God loves guns? The Westboro people are clearly crazier, but the NRA probably does more actual damage to this country, so I'm having a tough time deciding. Did you know that the NRA opposes restrictions on silencers and cop-killer armor piercing bullets? I guess a man has a right to protect his ears when he shoots a burglar who is hiding behind his refrigerator.

Notes

\- The Saturday Night Special case I argued was _Kelley v. R.G. Industries_. In 2005, under pressure from the NRA, Congress passed a law banning any suits against gun manufacturers for the criminal use of their weapons, regardless of who they sell them to or how they are marketed. (<http://www.constitution.org/2ll/bardwell/kelley_v_rgindustries.txt>) This is the same Congress that repealed the assault weapons ban at the insistence of the NRA. Had the ban been in effect, the weapon that was used in the Sandy Hook massacre would probably not have been purchased by the shooter's mother. I wonder if the NRA is proud of its work, advocating for legalization of silencers and Bushmasters. Actually, I don't wonder at all.

Five

Elephants, Voltaire, and Rick Perry

In 1997, the Toronto Zoo had a wonderful elephant exhibit. They had a small herd of them in a very natural setting. In Toronto. That's in Canada. Where it snows all the time. And National Geographic reported that the zoo had a policy about non-intervention insofar as what goes on inside the animal exhibits. They wanted animal life to unfold naturally. In the zoo. In Toronto. That's in Canada. Where it snows all the time. This is the zookeeper worldview that advocates that animals in captivity should live their lives as God and nature intended. Naturally. In a zoo.

The zoo people apparently didn't want the elephants to be bored, so they thoughtfully hung a very natural truck tire in the elephant exhibit. The elephants happily banged the tire around and played the elephant version of tether ball. All of this occurred exactly the way God and nature intended. In an elephant exhibit. In the zoo. In Toronto. That's in Canada. Where it snows all the time.

One day, one of the elephants tried to kick the tire with her rear leg and her leg became trapped in the tire hole. She struggled frantically, but she couldn't get it out. She began to panic. It was all caught on film by a man who was visiting with his children. She was on her way to breaking her rear leg. A broken leg on an elephant is a serious thing. This is where the zoo's policy of noninterventionism in the natural lives of elephants came into play. A National Geographic video about animal intelligence explained that the zoo keepers would not help her because, I am guessing that their policy of noninterventionism dictated that they sit there and watch her suffer with their thumbs up their asses. Mother Nature would sort things out. Or she wouldn't. In the captive elephant exhibit. The one with the truck tire tether ball game. In a zoo. In Toronto.

After a while, there were those who had the courage and the decency to ignore the inane policy of noninterventionism and come to her rescue. They helped the struggling elephant to free her leg because they could not stand to see her suffer. And because it was the right thing to do. I am speaking, of course, of the other elephants. I wonder if the zookeepers gave each other high-fives (or possibly terrorist fist-bumps) and concluded that their policy of letting nature take its course in the affairs of wild animals and truck tires was the best policy. This was the proof. You can see the whole thing unfold in a short National Geographic clip on YouTube.

This incident was an impromptu natural test that _proved_ their zoo worldview made perfect sense. In the same way that cutting off the troop buildup in Guam and concluding that you saved the island from tipping over would have made perfect sense; if Congressman Hank Johnson had stopped the troop and equipment buildup on Guam and the island had continued to float around out there, it would have proved his theory. It is also probably worth watching his subsequent explanation to the press after he became the laughingstock of the universe. I am certain that aliens on the planet Zontar were holding their sides and snorting alien milk and cornflakes out of their noses. One of the Congressman's crack staffers apparently took him aside and may have explained diplomatically that, _Ahem, islands do not usually flip over, possibly because they are tethered to the ocean floor with long rubber bands put there by the island fairies._ His subsequent "I knew that" interview was even funnier than the original performance.

This brings me to Voltaire's wonderful novel _Candide,_ which is possibly the best book ever written about worldviews, nuthouses, and imbeciles. How anyone can read _Candide_ (even the Cliffs Notes) and fail to recognize an idiot armed with an ism is beyond me. _Candide_ is my Bible. Or my anti-Bible. If it had an ism after it, I might even sign up and order a bumper sticker.

Professor Pangloss, I'm sure you recall from your high school or college days, was a philosopher of metaphysico-theologico-cosmolonigolgy school. _Candide_ is about "optimism." What could possibly be wrong with optimism? Optimists have sunny dispositions and think life is always peachy. They are the perfect warriors to lead the charge against nattering nabobs of negativism and far more pleasant to be around.

I am fully aware that you probably aren't eager to go back to your college days. You are worrying that if you revisit _Candide_ , you will have those dreams tonight about the final coming up and you not having read it or put out the cash for the Cliffs Notes because you spent your extra spending cash on an ounce of Maui Wowie. Trust me. It will be okay. It's just a dream, dude. Everyone has it. So stay with me. Mellow out. Because you should have read it the first time around. And on the off-chance that you did read it, you probably forgot how good it is. So do a J, if you must, and read on.

Professor Pangloss believed that _everything_ happened for the best in this, the best of all possible worlds. Even what seemed like really bad stuff happened for the best. Once you buy a hat proclaiming that you believe and are an optimist (Life Is Good!), everything becomes clear. For example, Pangloss figured out—and did not get credit for inventing—the logical foundation for the Evangelical theory of Intelligent Design. (I am trying, by the way, to get an advance to write the book titled _Intelligent Design for Dummies_ , but I am told the title is confusing and redundant.) Pangloss demonstrated the incredible genius involved in the design of the human nose, and legs and of stones and pigs.

"It is demonstrable," said he, "that things cannot be otherwise than as they are; for as all things have been created for some end, they must necessarily be created for the best end. Observe, for instance, the nose is formed for spectacles, therefore we wear spectacles. The legs are visibly designed for stockings, accordingly we wear stockings. Stones were made to be hewn and to construct castles, therefore My Lord has a magnificent castle; for the greatest baron in the province ought to be the best lodged. Swine were intended to be eaten, therefore we eat pork all the year round: and they, who assert that everything is right, do not express themselves correctly; they should say that everything is best."

Intelligent Design, aka _Creationism_ , which we shall delve into shortly, explains so many things more neatly than evolution. Evolution is so, as Governor Rick Perry put it, "out there." I am certain that Sarah Palin understands this "out there" point of view. She did attend a bunch of community colleges, and I am certain that she studied Voltaire. Or it could have been Solitaire. She is easily confused.

Even the shanks, I have found, are for the best. Note to non-golfers: shanks are the worst thing that can ever happen to a golfer. The hosel—the little metal tube that connects the face to the shaft—strikes the ball instead of the club face, and sends it almost dead right, and always to a place adjacent to the golf course from which there is no recovery. Shanks can take out a member of your foursome or a window on a house next to the fairway that never should have been built there. This usually happens after a huge, dead center of the fairway drive, when you are feeling smug and thinking, _That's right, I'm bad to the bone and I'm going to break eighty today and... oh, fuck me and everyone who looks like me! I shanked!_

The shanks are like quantum particles; they come out of nowhere in clusters and occur for no discernible reason. They defy any scientific explanation and the laws of Newtonian physics. I once hit one hundred forty-four of them in a row on the driving range. I know that because there are one hundred forty-four balls in a pyramid of golf balls and I shanked every one of the little bastards while trying desperately not to. Save your advice. I don't want to hear it.

Anyway, Pangloss would have said that were it not for the shanks, I would not have worked so hard on my swing plane the next day, making me a better golfer and erasing from my memory the one hundred-eighteen I recorded on _Shanks for Everything Day_ , and the ten dollars I lost to the Governor Rick Perry devotee I was playing with, who laughed so hard at my misfortune that he started gasping for air and they had to call the rescue squad. Which also worked out for the best, because they discovered a blocked artery when they took him to the hospital, and he lived to vote another day for Governor Rick Perry as a write-in candidate for president—because, by that point, even Governor Rick may have come to the conclusion that he was a moron at best, and dropped out of the presidential race, which turned out to be the best thing for...

Well, it goes on. And on. And on. In this, the best of all possible worlds.

Say, Howie. Why do you pick on Governor Rick Perry so much?

Simple answer: he is a human hanging curve ball out over the plate and I am always up at bat.

Slightly more complicated answer: I'm glad you asked. If Rick was just a dope I took Animal Husbandry 101 with, I would be happy to let him be. The scary thought is that if he was just a _tad_ smarter and another tad less lazy, he could have been groomed like the talking head anchorman Ted Baxter on _The Mary Tyler Moore Show_ , and become President of the United States of America. You know. The country with enough nuclear (pronounced and spelled _newculer_ in Texas) weapons to blow up this and any nearby planets.

This is the same guy who said, while running for President, "Evolution is a theory that is out there." Here is a letter I wrote to the Dallas News regarding Rick's worldview and approach to problem solving.

Finally! A possible Evangelical Presidential candidate with fresh ideas! A man who can think outside the box. A man from a State that brought us the unique concept that "really big" is always the best. From out of the West comes a true American hero and problem solver. Governor RICK PERRY!

Texas has suffered through a terrible drought this year. Governor Perry, after a careful analysis, concluded that lack of rain was the problem. Now, a man of lesser intellect might not have thought of that. But did Weather Ranger Rick stop there? No siree, cowboys and cowgirls. He didn't shrug his shoulders and pass the buck and say there's not much we can do. Or suggest we save a little water by not washing our Hummers. He tackled the problem head on. In a way that no effete eastern liberal secular pointy headed college educated snob would have _ever_ thought of. And this is why we should really think about voting for him. Here is what he did. He issued a proclamation complete with WHEREASES and everything.

Thursday, April 21, 2011 Austin, Texas Proclamation

TO ALL TO WHOM THESE PRESENTS SHALL COME:

_WHEREAS_ , the state of Texas is in the midst of an exceptional drought, with some parts of the state receiving no significant rainfall for almost three months, matching rainfall deficit records dating back to the 1930s; and

_WHEREAS_ , a combination of higher than normal temperatures, low precipitation and low relative humidity has caused an extreme fire danger over most of the State, sparking more than eight thousand wildfires which have cost several lives, engulfed more than 1.8 million acres of land and destroyed almost four hundred homes, causing me to issue an ongoing disaster declaration since December of last year; and

_WHEREAS_ , these dire conditions have caused agricultural crops to fail, lake and reservoir levels to fall and cattle and livestock to struggle under intense stress, imposing a tremendous financial and emotional toll on our land and our people; and

_WHEREAS_ , throughout our history, both as a state and as individuals, Texans have been strengthened, assured and lifted up through prayer; it seems right and fitting that the people of Texas should join together in prayer to humbly seek an end to this devastating drought and these dangerous wildfires;

_NOW, THEREFORE, I, RICK PERRY_ , Governor of Texas, under the authority vested in me by the Constitution and Statutes of the State of Texas, do hereby proclaim the three-day period from Friday, April 22, 2011, to Sunday, April 24, 2011, as Days of Prayer for Rain in the State of Texas. I urge Texans of all faiths and traditions to offer prayers on those days for the healing of our land, the rebuilding of our communities and the restoration of our normal way of life.

_IN TESTIMONY WHEREOF_ , I have hereunto signed my name and have officially caused the Seal of State to be affixed at my Office in the City of Austin, Texas, this the 21st day of April, 2011.

RICK PERRY

Governor of Texas

There you have it. Four WHEREASes and three—count 'em—three days of prayer! Who else would have thought of that one! Now I know there are some atheist secular communist types who will feel compelled to point out that the Texas drought continues up until this minute. And quite a bit of time has gone by. But that doesn't mean it wasn't a swell idea(r). Probably all that was needed was an extra day or so of prayer and fasting. I'm sure it was just a simple math error... . Like the mistake made by End of Days guy who Governor Perry will probably appoint as Science and Math Czar together with Michelle Bachman and Sarah Palin who think gravity and long division are just theories and should be replaced in the public schools with the theory of miracles which can explain anything if we just have faith and send our checks in to the many Dallas TV Mega Churches that have phone lines directly Upstairs. Those lines are not cheap. Neither is hairspray and make-up.

And I want to point out that Rick's prayer rally was _almost_ enormously successful in ending the drought. We were _this_ close! And that is why Rick came up with the idea(r) to expand the program and have prayer rally for _all_ of this great country's problems. A national day of Christian prayer and fasting in the most righteous of all places... Dallas, Texas!

In a video invitation you can watch on YouTube, Perry says he was inspired by the Old Testament Book of Joel. Not to be confused with Billy Joel. Specifically his inspiration came from the apocalyptic passage describing God's army marching on the Israelites to punish them for their moral decline. Perry says America is facing a similar moral crisis today. In Joel, Rick reminds us, God calls on the Israelites to come together in a "sacred assembly" with "fasting, with weeping and with mourning." Perry said Americans should do the same at the gathering at Reliant Stadium, where the 2004 Super Bowl was held. Perfect. How Bout Dem Cowboys!

"Given the trials that beset our nation and world, from the global economic downturn to natural disasters, the lingering danger of terrorism and continued debasement of our culture, I believe it is time to convene the leaders from each of our United States in a day of prayer and fasting."

We are often critical of our leaders for being negative and not coming up with original ideas. Governor Perry, will never be accused of being a nabob. With his show of brilliance and ability to tackle our nations complicated problems, he breaks that mold. But I have decided not to send in a check if he runs. Instead I will pray that he wins. That should take care of it.

P.S. it was 107 in Dallas today and as dry as a bonehead.

How can I put this delicately without an immature _ad hominem_ barrage? Rick Perry is an ignorant, dangerous, born-again dope. He was probably a dope the first time around and decided to reaffirm his limitations by being born again. I realize that was not nice and I don't want to be too hard on my Evangelical friends. Or on Evangelicalism. I'm saving that for later. But these nutcases believe that Armageddon is going to be a _good day_ for the planet. _The best day ever!_ Anticipation of the End of Days (play scary music from the Exorcist here) is leading church choirs everywhere to practice the song "Happy Days are Here Again." That's _their_ worldview. There's going to be a spectacular lake of fire show (really... it's in Revelation) where they get to watch the non-believers and their children roast like Hebrew National Hot dogs (and confess _we were answering to the wrong higher authority_ ) and screaming and gnashing of teeth and the Evangelicals are going to get to do a special dance and chant, We told you so, while doing the white man's overbite, and there will be ice cream and sparklers for the kids, and Bud Lights for the faithful, and a stock car race with a Dale Earnhardt look alike and a _Christ on Ice_ musical. They can't wait.

And therein lays the problem. _They can't wait_. And there is a good chance they will get tired of waiting.

There is a YouTube link to Sarah Palin's Sunday church service, showing Sarah on the dais with a pastor who is telling the good citizens of Wasalla that Armageddon is coming and it is _foretold_ (foretold shit is _much_ more worrisome than a regular kooky prediction) that the people worth saving from the lower forty-eight will be seeking refuge in Alaska. It's all right there. In the Bible. One of the amended new and improved ones, but it's all right there. And then Jesus is coming back to fight the bad guys. And all those worth saving—all those who chant, _Jesus, you da man_ —will be able to sit at his table and have dinner with him. Like what happens when you go on an Italian cruise ship and get to sit with the captain. Anyway, imagine Sarah and Rick—or Rick and Sarah, take your pick—with his/her finger on the _real_ Armageddon red button. You know, the _newculer_ one. Talk about your self-fulfilling prophecy. Can you say boom?

I think it would be wise to keep the imbeciles who think they should be the first-string quarterbacks on God's team away from the red button. Rick, I should mention here, just before he withdrew from the race and shortly after he became a _Saturday Night Live_ skit, compared himself to God squad quarterback Tim Tebow. The timing was exquisite. It was just before God's quarterback went down in flames, so to speak, against the faithless New England Patriots. Sweet. Not sweet that Tim and Denver lost. Who cares? But sweet that Rick was so amazingly short-sighted that he hitched his crashing chuck wagon up to another crashing chuck wagon driven by Tim "I Throw for Jesus" Tebow, and said, "Hey, all you cowpoke votin' people. I'm just like Tim Tebow!"

Indeed. Well put, Rick! A good comedy writer couldn't possibly come up with this stuff.

And that, my friend, is why I swing for the fences with Governor Rick Perry, using a sledgehammer when an ordinary Little League baseball bat would do the job just fine. Because I have children and grandchildren and, yes, it is a scary thought to think of that madman Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and Iran with an offensive nuclear capability, but it is just as scary to think of a Christian fundamentalist dimwit like Rick Perry in charge of the country that already has bushel baskets full of them—nukes, not dimwits... but now that I think about it...

I don't ever again want to see a guy who has a cow pie for brains and has surrendered what little reasoning ability he had over to an idiotic, psycho-delusional ism, come anywhere near the red button!

I am calm now. Have I answered your question?

Notes

\- The elephant incident I describe can be viewed at  http://video.nationalgeographic.com/video/national-geographic-channel/specials-1/exploration-adventure/ngc-elephant-trap.

\- The Sarah Palin End of Days church service can be viewed at <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k84m2orSOaM> and is quite entertaining.

\- The shanks can be viewed at any golf course by following the profanity trail.

Six

Pacifism

Let's delve into an easy one. Pacifism is a commitment to the principles of nonviolence. Pacifists believe that disputes between nations should be settled without resorting to violence or war. Simple. Where do I sign up? Who could possibly be against the worldview that nations should not send their children off to kill each other? Where do I order a white hat with a dove, peace symbol, and matching golf shoes? I'm pretty sure that Bill Clinton and Dick Cheney were pacifists.

I bet you thought I would go after Gandhi.

Rwanda is a beautiful country in the middle of Africa. It is one of the areas they called "Darkest Africa" in the nineteenth century. Rwanda doesn't have much in natural resources that interest us in the West. They have lots of beautiful mountains and a wealth of exotic animals. But no oil, gold, diamonds, or uranium. If they had oil, things might have turned out differently.

In 1994, there were two predominant tribes in Rwanda: the Hutus and the Tutsis. The Hutus had political power and they decided that the Tutsis were a revolutionary threat to their continued control of the country. So they began to slaughter them. As many of them as they could find.

_Slaughter_ is an interesting word, most often used with regard to the killing of animals that we eat. We even have _slaughterhouses_ , big buildings where the slaughtering takes place. When we think of a slaughter, for some reason, we always think first of knives. Big ones, like the kind used in a ritual religious slaughter of a sheep or a bull in the good old Biblical days when religious leaders concluded that God was always up in the middle of the night wandering around in heaven, hungry and looking for a snack.

Knives were the weapon of choice for the slaughter than took place in 1994 in Rwanda. Big ugly ones called machetes. Between eight hundred thousand and a million Tutsi men women, children and babies were slaughtered. Most with machetes. Don't you dare look away or move on to a more fun page. Especially you, President Clinton. You see, the Tutsis were hacked to pieces. Gleefully. Women were gang raped, sometimes with spears, and made to watch their babies being thrown in the air and caught on the ends of machetes. The women and babies did not die quickly or mercifully. It was a horror that was unimaginable. _Literally unimaginable_.

Think about what that means. We won't let our imaginations go there. We love R-rated movies, but we can always close our eyes or walk out of the movie if it is too cruel or violent, and tell ourselves that _it isn't real_. This was real. Tutsi children couldn't walk out of the movie. The Hutus laughed. They had slaughtering contests. But before you think, "... primitive African animals" and "that's why they call it 'Darkest Africa,'" I would remind you that the Japanese, a highly advanced civilization, did exactly the same thing in China. It is now known as the Rape of Nanking. It was every bit as cruel. It has happened in Bosnia and Russia. And in the Old Testament, in the same exact same appalling way.

There is almost no part of the world and no century in which where the inconceivable slaughter of mothers and babies at the ends of swords has not taken place.

Let me take a time-out here to ask you to participate in a thought experiment. They are the best kinds of experiments. Albert Einstein was a big fan of them. They are very inexpensive and they don't take much time. Also, you don't have to tell anybody how it turned out. This will be just between you and me. Ready? Okay. Count to a million. We both know you won't do it, so do this at least: figure out _how much time it would take you to count to a million._ You know, using the old hide-and-seek formula—put the word "thousand" between each number. One-one thousand. Two-one thousand. Three... And so on. Until you get to a million. I'll do the math for you. You are probably too busy. It would take you the better part of _277 hours._ Or eleven and a half days, if you prefer. Which is why you aren't about to do it. I'll wager you didn't know that. I hope you are saying, _"Wow! I never would have guessed."_

Now, think about this: for every one of those goddamned hide-and-seek seconds, a person spent perhaps twenty minutes dying an excruciatingly agonizing and horrible death. You know what I'm talking about. You've seen the deer or a squirrel or dog that has been hit by a car but doesn't die quickly. It twitches and goes into spasms and struggles. You can't stand to look at it and there is nothing you can do, so you keep on driving, but the vision stays with you for a while, like the aftertaste of a really bad diet soda. That's how the Tutsi children died.

And here's another really awful thing to think about: there are ism salesmen of the Evangelical persuasion who will tell you quite calmly that there was a cosmically just reason for all that killing, and that there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, and that God intervenes or does not in _mysterious_ ways. There are devout and nice people who will tell you that it makes glorious _sense._ "Good" Christians who would never harm anyone themselves, but literally believe that it was appropriate sometimes to "show _them_ no mercy." None. Because that is what God said in the Bible.

I will tell you about them later. And about their God. I'll quote from their books, share some correspondence I had with a couple of them. These guys aren't wackos from some Church in Kansas that hold up signs saying "God Hates Fags." These guys are very mainstream and traditional. And completely mainstream wacko.

If you don't want to engage in the counting experiment, you should go to the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C., and read the names. All of them. There are 58,195 of them. Every one of them was somebody's kid. And then think about the children who were burned to death in Dresden and Hiroshima. To all those idiots who cry "Nuke 'em" like it would be part of a sports event, walk among the charred children who had nothing whatsoever to do with the sins of their fathers.

Hold the phone. I must sound like a pacifist. Please forgive me. I'm not. I believe in the appropriateness of violence to put an end to violence.

But I'm not sure about Bill Clinton.

You see the Rwanda slaughter of the Tutsis did not go on in Darkest Africa behind closed doors. It was right out in the open. The whole world knew about it. Rivers literally turned red with the blood of children. You could see it from space. Details were vivid and on the nightly news. Horrible details. And not years later. It was just after the carnage began. President Clinton was briefed on the details. He continued to be briefed. Documents made public under the Freedom of Information Act leave no room for debate on what he knew and when he knew it.

Here was his exculpatory explanation to the people of Rwanda when he visited there in 1998: "It may seem strange to you here, especially the many of you who lost members of your family, but all over the world there were people like me sitting in offices, day after day after day, who did not fully appreciate the depth and speed with which you were being engulfed by this unimaginable terror."

That was, of course, complete bullshit. He knew all about the depth and the speed. Everybody did. The explanation had to be he was a pacifist. That's the only conclusion you can come to.

Unless, of course, you are a hardened cynic who believes that no oil, plus the notion that these were just a bunch of black savages killing one another, added up to a policy decision of "That's really too bad, but in the grand scheme of things, who gives a shit?"

But I prefer to think that Bill was a selective pacifist.

And then there was another principled pacifist named Dick Cheney who, as a young man, had the courage to stand up for his pacifist convictions by getting five consecutive student deferments during the Vietnam War. There was nothing at all wrong with that. It was all quite legal. He even went all-in when he had to put his pacifism on the line. Just three weeks after the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution giving President Johnson authority to wage an official war, Dick got married. He was a pacifist in love and soon to be reclassified at 1A (Nam Fodder), and married guys were also getting deferments. But October 6, 1965, Selective Service withdrew its ban against drafting married men who had no children.

However, guys who were fathers could still get a hardship exemption. Nine months and two days after this policy change, Little Liz Cheney was born. Dick and Liz may have been on the paradise stroke, as Congress was voting to draft childless married men. Because it turns out that Dick had applied for the 3A "hardship" exemption, when his wife was still in the first trimester. It was granted. Dick missed the war and went on to help start one twenty-five years later, and send other people's kids to die when he became Vice President.

When interviewed about his deferments after his appointment as Secretary of Defense in 1989, he explained, "I had other priorities in the '60s than military service." And when he was interviewed recently for a documentary called The World According to Dick Cheney he made it clear that while in college (flunking out of Yale and getting arrested twice for DWI), he was a courageous supporter of our effort in Vietnam. It's just that he personally had other courageous priorities.

Yes, Dick, I'm sure that you did. Like not shooting or getting shot at. Now, I know there are cynics out there—and you know who you are. You are the same folks who gave Bill Clinton a free ride on Rwanda. You cynics think Dick Cheney was a draft-dodging, play-all-the-angles, chicken-hawk hypocrite who would later find the courage to send young men and women to war in Iraq when he knew damn well that his balls may have been the size of Fruity Pebbles during Vietnam. But I think the better explanation was that he was a pacifist who grew up and had a change of heart. It happens.

I should point out that I got four student deferments during Vietnam. I thought it was a dumb war. But I was not a pacifist. I was, however, scared shitless and I am pretty sure that when I contemplated getting killed in the jungles of Vietnam, my balls shrunk to the size of Fruity Pebbles. Once, as a very mild form of penance, I went to the Vietnam Wall to read the names of the dead. Not all of them, but enough to make me think hard about it. I was wearing a golf shirt that had probably been made in Vietnam—the place from which we were warned that the communists were going to spread out and take over all of Southeast Asia and then move on to California. I was never quite sure how they were going to get to California, but we were told they were coming.

I understand we run tours to Vietnam and that the beaches are beautiful. The Vietnamese communists are our new buddies. I know there was an important principle those 58,195 kids died for. But I can't, for the life of me, remember or figure out what it was. Maybe Dick Cheney can explain it to me.

Anyway, my point (and if you don't get it by now, put this book down and enroll in one of the four excellent community colleges that Sarah Palin attended) really was that Pacifism is an intrinsically flawed ism. There are, unfortunately, things worth fighting for. Stopping the killing in Rwanda was one of them. Vietnam was not.

While I am on the subject of wars and who starts them and why, I would like to propose a Constitutional Amendment. _Be it resolved: (good laws always start that way) Any president and any politician who votes to send our kids to kill other kids, which is truly and unfortunately necessary from time to time, should be on the front lines leading the charge._

It's fair. Can you think of a single political leader ever who wasn't expendable? Or who is more valuable than your son or daughter? I think we would still have wars and I think there would still be times when they were necessary, but the dumbass "Prove our balls are big because we _can_ , and we need to show those raghead motherfuckers who they are messing with..." _Those wars_ —like the one Cheney and Bush thought was such a swell idea—would be _a lot_ less likely to happen.

Let Cheney and Donald Trump (who said if he were President, he would send our troops to Iraq and take their oil) know that their asses are going to be dodging bullets instead of draft boards, and they might not be so quick to lock and load. Of course, they might discover that war is not a board game when bullets started flying... _or_... they might not start the war. Either way, you can see a result where we would probably be better off.

Notes

\- I highly recommend you read _The Rape of Nanking_ by Iris Chang. The cruelty of the Japanese deserves a special place in the annals of human cruelty. And the next time you shake your head at the insanity of the ignorant Holocaust deniers, read about modern Japan and how the Rape of Nanking is treated by the government in the public schools and Japanese history books. You may want to reconsider that Prius purchase.

\- With regard to what Big Bill knew and when take a look at  http://www.motherjones.com/mojo/2009/04/remembering-rwanda-and-clinton-failure and <http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2004/mar/31/usa.rwanda>.

\- Vice President Richard Cheney was, and is today, an asshole. You can read about his draft-deferment days at  http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/chatterbox/2004/03/elizabeth_cheney_deferment_baby.html.

Seven

Environmentalism and PETA

" _God gave us the earth. We have dominion over the plants, the animals, the trees. God said, 'Earth is yours. Take it. Rape it. It's yours.'"_

—Ann Coulter on FOX News, June 20, 2001

Those of us who were around in the early 1960s remember what real smog was. Not the sissy smog we may come across today. But honest-to-god, hurt your eyes, choke your lungs, filthy, disgusting, putrid air that was literally not fit to breath. People got sick. Not psychosomatic, I-don't-really-feel-that-well sick. We are talking _sick_. It looked like the beginning of the end of the world. There were places where smog blocked out the sun. You could taste it.

Welcome to Los Angeles, enjoy our sunsets, and have a nice day if you can read this sign.

Most of the dirty air was, of course, caused by car emissions. Those were also the days when people smoked Camels and flicked their butts (you didn't throw a cigarette butt... you flicked it, so it threw off cool little sparks like a vapor trail) in streets and lawns. American manufacturers poured toxic waste directly into our rivers and ground water. Poison. Not liberal, politically incorrect, hysterical, not-so-nice, icky, dirty stuff. Real poison. It was cheaper and more efficient to dump poison in your neighbor's yard and the town water supply than it was to clean your own mess up. This was also the era when it was acceptable to throw your Burger King trash out of the car window.

_It's our country, so we can trash it if we want to_ seemed to be the national state of mind.

Many of our political leaders opposed _any_ kind of clean air and water standards because cleanliness was anti-business. These were usually the same people who swore cigarettes weren't a health hazard. What was good for R.J. Reynolds was good for the U.S.A. Smoke your lungs out. People who didn't smoke or complained about it were un-American alarmists. These are the same guys who would have advised you to pay close attention to the Camel advertisements that said nine out of 10 doctors agree that smoking Camels is good for your health. They really had an advertisement that said that. Just think—the reasoning probably went... If those people in Los Angeles would just smoke more instead of wasting time complaining about pollution from cars, they would probably stop coughing and this country could get on with the business of building bigger and more powerful cars.

Higher cost associated with poison clean-up meant fewer profits, and fewer profits meant fewer jobs, and if you were against jobs _and_ against profiting from lung diseases, you were un-American. After Joseph McCarthy, _nobody_ wanted to be tagged as un-American. Venality ruled.

But when people started choking and dying and we were forced to watch it on the evening news, we did something. We took steps to clean up cars and passed the clean air and clean water acts. Sanity prevailed over short sighted profiteering. There were tough choices that had to be made and we made them.

No one crusaded more effectively for responsible environmental policy than Rachel Carson when she wrote _Silent Spring_. This was the book that launched the environmental movement worldwide when it was published in 1962. Silent Spring was largely responsible for the ban of the pesticide DDT in the United States. The book documented the devastating effects of pesticides on the environment. The title is a reference to the poisoning of the birds that fed on the insects that fed on DDT. And it was all true. The book also exposed the manufacturers of pesticides and the government policy of deliberately engaging in a campaign of misinformation about the dangers of products like DDT.

Environmentalism had prevailed.

And then along came the snail darter. The image of the environmental movement would be sullied forever by a fish the size of a paper clip. The snail darter managed to do what the most powerful manufacturing polluters that the planet had ever seen could not do. It gave the environmental movement one hell of a bloody nose.

The Tellico Dam project on the Little Tennessee River was begun sometime in 1970. The dam was needed about as much as a kudzu preservation sanctuary. But never mind. Some people thought it was a good idea. In August of 1973, a University of Tennessee biologist named David Etnier was snorkeling in the river and came across a snail darter who was, well... darting around. The snail darter is a fish. I'm sure it's a fine fish and a solid fish citizen of the river community. It would get lost (and eaten) in your goldfish bowl.

The thing is, it was an _endangered species_. Congress had passed the Endangered Species Act in 1977—when the dam project was well underway—and had even stated that if a project was underway, it was not their intent to stop it should an endangered species (like the snail darter) be in the way. Nevertheless, a pesky environmental lawsuit was filed (they are always pesky) and it made its way to the Supreme Court, where it was ruled unanimously that the entire project had to stop and the snail darter had to be protected. You don't really want to hear about the legal arguments on both sides. Trust me on this one.

Congress eventually, after much fuss, passed a remedial law allowing the dam to finish and a population of snail darters was transplanted into the Hiwassee River. They did just fine and today they have their kids in new schools and everyone seems happy. The snail darter was reclassified from "endangered" to "threatened" on July 5, 1984, when a local hunter armed with a shotgun and a case of Bud said he would start shooting if he saw one. Fine. I may have made that part up. The environmental protection movement was reclassified to endangered _and_ threatened as a result of the ludicrous litigation.

Which brings me to PETA—not the kind you have with hummus... the other one—Ingrid Newkirk, and cougars.

I am an animal lover. I am in awe of the complexity of nature and wonders and variety of the animals we share this planet with. I deliberately chose to live in a place that is like a zoological park for exactly that reason. It also has two great golf courses. Since I moved to Seabrook Island, South Carolina, I have seen bald eagles, bobcats, foxes, coyotes, possums, raccoons, dolphin by the hundreds, deer, snakes, alligators, and just about every kind of bird you would ever want to see. There have also been reliable reports of a cougar. We do not, as far as I know, have any snail darters. If we did, the guys I play golf with would make damn sure to threaten them.

I encounter at least a few of these creatures every day. I am a lucky guy. I just love all my little friends. But I do have problems with some of them from time to time. It was a raccoon who chewed up my roof. Why, I do not know, but he did, causing my second floor to resemble a rain forest after a particularly heavy downpour. It cost me a small fortune to clean up and repair. It happened again a couple of years later. The second time, I was really pissed and inspired to recount my wildlife adventures to the guys I play golf with and reevaluate some of my live-and-let-live views:

I am aware that my carefully cultivated reputation amongst the group is that of a panty-waist, tree-hugging, save the earth, global warming-believing, left-leaning clown who has dabbled in vegetarianism and occasionally listens to New Age music. I am here to tell you guys that shit is history. In the past few years, I have had an unfortunate battle with a giant raccoon that ate my roof. I barely escaped death after being chased by an alligator only slightly smaller than Godzilla after I used a curtain rod to poke him in my lagoon to see what he would do (seemed like a wonderful idea at the time, just in case he was thinking about eating one of my wife's Shih-Tzus), and recently lost an encounter with a small army of Satan-spawned chiggers resulting in the golf guy sobriquet "chigger dick," which seems to have stuck with me like a cold sore on a first date. I took some comfort after each of these encounters, knowing that I was privileged to have interacted with God's creatures. They are all here for a reason.

I just can't figure out what that reason is for the chiggers. Or why they would go out of their way to chomp on my manhood. Also, having discovered that the raccoon that I humanely captured, transported to Kiawah, and released, singing "Born Free" while doing a Navajo tribal nature dance, had returned and chewed a few new holes in my roof, resulting in a second small flood in the upstairs bedroom, I have set another trap for him and this time I intend to find out if he likes chewing on hot lead. I am therefore re-evaluating my past positions on gun control, animal rights, and capital punishment. Charlie, are you available tomorrow morning for an execution?

This, I have since come to understand, is known as situational environmental ethics. Ingrid Newkirk, the founder of PETA, would not approve. I met Ingrid when I was working for the Montgomery County, Maryland, State's Attorney's Office. Ingrid was an Animal Protection Officer and she was dedicated and very good at her job. She would come to me periodically to get approval for arrest warrants and summons for animal cruelty. She never seemed happy at having to go through me, even though my sister was director of the County Humane Society and we had a lot in common when it came to our views about animal cruelty. I always had the feeling that she believed she should be able to mete out punishment to people who were cruel to animals on the spot.

I admired her. I still do. She was, and is today, the truest of true believers.

PETA, for those of you who have been living in a cave, stands for People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. Ingrid Newkirk has done fantastic things for animals and fought against needless animal suffering tirelessly. She and PETA have also gone around the bend. In 2009, PETA complained when President Obama swatted a fly during an NBC television taping. They then sent the White House a catch-and-release fly trap. When I read about the presidential fly execution (without due process), I immediately thought of my chigger encounter.

For those of you who have never been _chiggered_ , I will tell you: if you have your choice of being torn apart while snorkeling by a hungry pack of snail darters, devoured one bite at a time by a rabid poodle, or set upon by chiggers, it won't be an easy choice. Get to the doctor immediately. Then ask him for a cyanide pill. He will understand, because modern medicine is helpless against the chigger. Chiggers are members of the mite family. They are related to ticks. If you have been walking in the woods and go to sleep that night and wake up savagely scratching your feet and ankles, you should immediately get out of bed, bend over as far as you can, and kiss your ass goodbye. You have been chiggered.

It always starts at the feet. A few hours later, the bites appear everywhere. They seem to be particularly fond of attacking Mr. Happy and your testicles, if you are of the male persuasion. I know what you are thinking. How badly could it itch? Well, I can only say that if you were to attend your daughter's first-grade parent-teacher conference, and Mrs. Primrose is telling you how well-adjusted and creative Susie is and a chigger has chomped on your pecker, it is even odds as to whether you will start screaming, whip it out, and start stroking it in a manner that will get you one to three years in South Carolina. It's that bad. But they don't just bite there. They bite _everywhere._ And the itching lasts for _ten days_.

Those ten days seem much longer than thirty days in the detention center with an amorous three-hundred-pound guy named Bubba. You are probably wondering if hydrocortisone cream helps. The answer is that you could take it intravenously and it wouldn't help. Chiggers love the stuff. You will hear them chanting, "Bring it on, chigger dick." I'm actually convinced that death wouldn't help.

One chigger encounter will change your mind about sending that tax deductible check to the Save the Earth Society and get you thinking about redirecting it to the Pave the Earth Society. If you ask me what is more maddening, a chigger bite, a Donald Trump press conference or a Carnival Cruise to Nassau, I will start hyperventilating at the thought of making the choice. That's how bad chiggers are.

But if, like Ingrid Newkirk, you have been infested by an ism, what started out as a good idea (being kind to animals and preventing unnecessary cruelty) can lead you down some strange paths. You may find yourself suddenly running a chigger rehabilitation and release sanctuary and putting a bumper sticker on your Prius that says "Have You Hugged a Chigger Today?"

And then there are those pesky mosquitoes. The ones that carry malaria and West Nile virus. Here is what PETA had to say when it comes to insects: "We support compassion for the even the smallest animals," says Bruce Friedrich, VP for Policy at PETA. "We support giving insects the benefit of the doubt."

I am going to assume that mosquitos would also merit the presumption of innocence, due process, and Miranda warnings. PETA has always taken a strong stand against insecticides. And if fly swatting is frowned upon, what would be the verdict against a man accused of a good mosquito mashing?

_Sir, you stand accused of crushing a mosquito and a chigger with malice of forethought. How do you plead?_ I know how I would plead. I wonder what Ingrid would recommend as the punishment for a mosquito murder. Or for trying to wipe them out en masse in a particular area. Because here is a fact: _the number one most dangerous creature that ever lived is unquestionably the mosquito._ Add up the slaughters of every war in human history and you wouldn't even be close. And as far as we have come in the public health field mosquito borne malaria kills two to three million people and infect another two hundred million or more _every year_.

So it seems that good causes (being kind to animals whenever possible) can very easily lead us to worldviews that leave our ability to reason in the dust. There are tough environmental choices we have to make if we want to live healthy lives and have a healthy planet fit for human beings.

I started this section out talking about Rachel Carson. She was unquestionably a heroine. But here is another fact. Guess what chemical has unquestionably saved more African lives than any man made substance ever invented? DDT, hands down. That is a politically incorrect indisputable fact. Of course, these are African lives we are talking about. In places like Rwanda, where we don't like to get involved. Maybe Ingrid Newkirk would like to go there and explain to African mothers why their environment, as she defines it, is more important than their children.

Does any of this mean we should revive the DDT industry? Of course not. There are alternatives. We should find more of them. But it's not so black and white, is it? And a worldview doesn't necessarily give you the right answer, does it? A worldview gets right smack-dab in the way of a right answer almost every time. One ism tells you all pesticides are bad. The other ism argues that all manufactured substances that create jobs are good. I say put them on an island someplace and let them slug it out, while those of us who haven't checked our brains at the door try to figure out what to do.

This, of course, brings me to the issue of climate change and global warming. Guess what? I don't have to go there. I don't have to tell you what I think. Go back and read the last paragraph again. Then think about how we should sit down and figure it out—with science having the last word.

And then there is the matter of the cougar. Ever see one up close? Like in a zoo? And speaking of zoos, PETA is vehemently against them. They aren't _natural_. And we all know that animals prefer things that are natural. I'm sure it is a verifiable fact that zebras prefer being torn apart by lions and eaten while they still know what is going on... the natural way, as God intended, rather than being fed three squares a day and raising their kids in an environment where loving people take care of them and vets come to visit when they get sick and where, as the Aussies like to say, there are "no worries, mate!"

Ingrid knows best. She is one of the few people on earth who knows what zebras are thinking. It's probably all there in her PETA handbook.

Here's what I think: I think there are good zoos and bad zoos. How hard is that to figure out?

Ingrid Newkirk is also against pet ownership. Same principle, same worldview. It isn't _natural._ Like starvation. Starvation is natural. Wonderful, even. That's what puts the _balance_ in the balance of nature. Starvation. Poodle shit is _natural._ I personally avoid stepping in it when I am out for a walk. Also, it isn't one of the ingredients that I want in my _all natural_ yogurt.

Anyway, getting back to cougars, they are beautiful animals. They are also highly adaptable. I have looked for the one that has been seen on my island but I have been unable to find him. They are very elusive. And it is possible that he is just a large bobcat. I spoke to an avid hunter who told me that the hunters he knows who live in Colorado and who have hunted them have said they could spend ten years searching and never see one. But they are certainly there. Same argument does not, by the way, hold for Bigfoot. More on him later.

Let's go to Boulder, Colorado. The most sunny days of any place in the United States. Sometimes referred to by its detractors as "the People's Republic of Boulder." Like Sedona, Arizona, there are lots of white wine-drinking, whale-loving, tree-hugging, New Age Indian flute-listening, avid believers in environmentalism. But no cougars. They had moved on. Too many people and too built-up—until sometime in 1990 when they moved back. David Baron chronicled what happened in his wonderful book, _The Beast in the Garden_.

When the locals first noticed that the cougar was making a comeback, they were thrilled. What could be better than having the majestic mountain lion as a neighbor? Boulder was already kind of a Garden of Eden. This was proof positive that the loving environmental sensitivity of the residents was being rewarded. Mother Nature rewards her stewards and protectors. _Three cheers for Boulder! Three cheers for Mother Nature! Ingrid Newkirk will come and lead the cheering! Three cheers for_... and then pets started disappearing. Well, _too fucking bad, PETA might say. You aren't supposed to own pets, anyway. Cougars are magnificent, cougars are natural, man has invaded their habitat, and furthermore_... and then somebody's son was attacked, killed, and partially eaten. By a cougar. There were tough choices that needed to be made. And all an ism would have done is made them tougher.

Say, Ingrid... do you have any children? Would it make a difference if one of your children was eaten?

Ingrid Newkirk does important work. Ingrid Newkirk has fought tirelessly against present-day slavery, cruelty, and injustice in every form. She has worked with her mother in a leper colony. She has fought courageously against needless and unnecessary suffering and exploitation whenever she has encountered it. I wish I had the balls and the inclination to do as much. But somewhere along the line, all that suffering and cruelty and injustice sucked the common sense right out of her. And that's a goddamn shame. It really is.

By the way, if you see me in line at the grocery store, it's perfectly all right to call me Chigger Dick. Everyone else does.

Notes

\- I know that the PETA outrage at fly-swatting is difficult to believe, but here it is:  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/06/17/peta-wishes-obama-hadnt-s_n_217162.html

\- For those of you who were wondering what I could possibly been thinking when I poked the alligator with a curtain rod, let me explain: It's a guy thing. I wanted to see what would happen.

Eight

Patriotism, the Constitution, and Strict Constructionism

What gripe could I possibly have with patriotism, you are probably asking, and why didn't that make the list of good isms? _What are you, unpatriotic?_ I could rest my case right here... but I won't. If you go on the Internet and research patriotism you will immediately find that almost everything that could have ever been written already has been written. It is apparently the number one essay assignment for lazy high school teachers. _Write a five hundred-word essay about patriotism. Your essay should have at least one reference to the men and women who wars fought to protect our freedom, a reference to our system of government, and a mention of the jerkwads who call anyone who disagrees with their worldview unpatriotic. Neatness and originality count._

Fine, I'm in. Here is mine.

Many men and women have fought bravely for our country and died in wars. Some have fought wars that had to be fought and some have fought in wars that were stupid, misguided mistakes. Vietnam and Iraq probably top that list. Some fought because they were patriotic, some fought because they couldn't afford to go to college and get a student deferment. The poor young men who didn't have the money to better themselves through unavailable higher education were thought not to be doing anything useful and they were drafted on the theory that they were more expendable.

It would be great if you could resist the temptation to drag me behind a pick-up truck in the name of patriotism for writing those things.

In the 1960s, our country had a policy of allowing young men who could afford to go to college _defer_ or avoid military service. They could _dodge (_ meaning sidestep or do everything they could to evade) the draft and it didn't really matter what they were studying. Or even _whether_ they were studying. I mentioned earlier that I dodged the draft and the Vietnam War by getting a series of student deferments so that I could become a lawyer and sue people.

I was not trying to _delay going. I_ was not getting _ready_ to do my patriotic duty. I was doing my best to evade going over there because I did not want to get my ass shot off in the dumbest war since the Greeks sailed off to recapture that slut, Helen of Troy. Having made that admission, I fully realize that I have hereby disqualified myself to be chosen as a vice presidential candidate. If drafted (like at a convention... not the other way), I will not serve. Maybe I need to get help to overcome this position. I could go to therapy sessions with Dick Cheney as my life coach. But it might not be enough. There was also that encounter with the twins in the hot tub.

I'm not sure what Dick Cheney was doing in college (he flunked out of Yale twice), but he did manage to get those five student deferments. We draft dodgers need to stick together. While I went on to sue people Dick went on to serve dishonorably as vice president and routinely called people who did not agree with his easy decision to send other peoples' children to fight and die in the second dumbest war in American history (Iraq II) unpatriotic. If Donald Trump ever became president and ordered young men and women go fight and die to forcibly take oil from a country in the Middle East, I would give shelter and assistance to those who refused to go.

I'm pretty sure that there are those who would say that I, therefore, do not _believe in patriotism_ , which many people think is a step below doubting that Jesus Christ came back from the dead. It's that bad.

By the way, Trump, the would-be commander-in-chief, _also_ got four student deferments during Vietnam—and when he ran out of them, his draft board reclassified him 1Y because of an undisclosed medical condition that he won't talk about. That was later changed to 4F, which is "unfit for duty." How gloriously prophetic. It is entirely possible that even back then, his fat ass would not have fit into standard-issue army fatigues, but that is just speculation on my part. He now tells us that he is brave enough to make the decision to send your kids out to get killed because he thinks our manifest destiny is to take other country's natural resources.

You know what patriotism is. It is devotion, love, and defense of your country. Nothing wrong with that when you live in a country as great as ours. But I am unable to find a definition anywhere that includes blind, stupid obedience, or seeing things the same way as another group sees them, or pledging allegiance to the patriotic ideology _du jour._ When _patriotic b_ ecomes an ism and when people begin to define other people they disagree with in terms of their lack of patriotism, then they become... well... unpatriotic. Except for Governor Rick Perry. I am sure Governor Perry wants the school children of Texas to say the Pledge of Allegiance every morning. But you probably remember when he was threatening to lead Texas to secede from our Union. I always wondered what his position was on the part of the Pledge that says, "... one nation under God—" (I'm sure he's okay with that part) " _—indivisible_ with liberty and justice for all."

I don't know if I'm against Texas seceding or not. Might not be a big loss. Maybe the Federal dollars they happily demand and accept every year would be better spent someplace else. Maybe we should let them protect their own borders with their state taxpayers' money instead of helping out with ours. Rick could draft every clown with a cowboy hat and a six-shooter to patrol the borders with "Remember the Alamo" T-shirts.

Who do you think about when you think about Patriotism? Is there someone everyone can agree on as a role model? A man whose bravery under fire and commitment to the principles that made this country great is unquestioned? A strong, tough man with a name that virtually screams out bravery, country, and an unwavering commitment to the principles of freedom of thought and expression. A man who fought for those ideas against the forces of darkness. A man whose very name proudly proclaims, "America, land of the free and home of the brave!?" How about _John Wayne_? What a magnificent name. It is almost as if God came up with the strongest, most patriotic name a man could ever be blessed with. And what a man to carry that name!

Destiny would lead such a man... _wait just a cotton-picking minute_.

I just found out that wasn't his real name. His real name was _Marion Morrison._ I sincerely hope I did not just cause your Bud Light to come shooting out of your nose. It's true. _Marion? Are you shitting me?_ I shit you not. If you were ranking tough guy, macho, all-American names, where on the list would you suppose Marion would go? Before or after Bruce? How about Seymour, Herman, or Leslie? Can you imagine? Warner Brothers Studios proudly presents _The Undefeated_ , staring Marion Morrison. And speaking of undefeated, the Duke never lost a fight. Never ever. But every time I point out to my golf buddies that _these were choreographed movie fights... they weren't real_... I come close to getting killed. Apparently there are people in this country (virtually all of them male as near as I can tell) who actually believe that Marion helped defeat the Germans and Japanese in World War II and the North Vietnamese in the Vietnam War leading the Green Berets.

I remember when my son was about five, I had a very difficult time explaining to him that the stuff he was watching on TV wasn't actually happening. Even though he could see it happening. I had to explain the concept of "pretend." It wasn't easy. Apparently that is also a very difficult concept among male adults who worship Marion.

You see, when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and we entered the war, young men signed up in droves to fight and die. Even famous, rich, and privileged men from Hollywood—like Henry Fonda, Jimmy Stewart, and Clark Gable, to name a few. Marion Morrison did not. Apparently, Marion felt strongly that Hollywood movies about the war were as crucial to our national security as actually fighting in it. He therefore made the courageous sacrifice to stay here and make movies where he _pretended_ to be patriotic and courageous. That's what _actors_ do.

Let's go over it one more time. Actors _pretend_ to be heroes. Heroes _really do heroic things_. I recognize this is not an easy concept to grasp, but it is an important one.

When the war broke out, Marion told friends that he _intended_ to enlist after he had made just a couple of more movies. He never got around to it. I have always been curious as to whether Dick Cheney's classic draft-dodging explanation, "I had other priorities than military service," was lifted from the Duke. It is possible that the Duke (who, perhaps, would have been better served by the nickname "the duck") was _just about to enlist_ and the darn war ended or something.

Here are some people who didn't have "other priorities" during World War II: Eddie Albert, Robert Altman, Mel Brooks, Paul Newman, Ronald Reagan, Mickey Rooney, Jimmy Stewart, Orson Welles, Lenny Bruce, Jonathan Winters, Correspondent Walter Cronkite, Billy Graham, Don Adams, Rod Serling, Saul Bellow, Albert Camus, James Dickey, Jack Kerouac, Norman Mailer, J.D. Salinger, Kurt Vonnegut, Jackson Pollock, Andrew Wyeth, Leonard Bernstein, Woody Guthrie, Charlie Parker, and Muddy Waters.

Those are just the famous people. Lots of ordinary people fought and died and deserve to be honored as Patriots. Marion was busy pretending to be one of them.

But there is more to being a patriotic American than going to war. How about standing up to evil stateside when the very values that we cherish as Americans are on the line? That takes courage, doesn't it? Indeed.

That brings me to another movie. _High Noon_ with Gary Cooper. One of the greatest of all Westerns. _High Noon_ (also a pretend-type movie) won the Academy Award in 1952. The plot was simple: Marshall Will Kane has just married a beautiful Quaker pacifist played by Grace Kelly, and has agreed to hang up his six-gun and lead a peaceful life as a shopkeeper. But his retirement is interrupted by bad guy Frank Miller, who Kane had arrested some years before and who had been sentenced to hang but released (probably by a cowboy-era liberal judge) on a technicality. Turns out that Miller and his gang are on the way to town on the noon train and they are coming to kill Will Kane. Kane's beautiful pacifist wife convinces him to leave town and avoid the gunfight.

But, as they are leaving, Kane realizes that he cannot run away from evil. He must stand and fight. He is sure that the townspeople, who he has protected for years, will come to his side. But they are a bunch of cowards and leave him to face Frank Miller and his gang alone. Kane prepares to meet his fate. His wife, who has threatened to leave him on the same noon train that Miller comes to town on, realizes that her love for her husband is more important than her devotion to her Quaker religion. She may have read my book in between scenes. She stands with him. He guns down Miller and his gang while the townspeople cower.

The movie ends with Will Kane throwing down his United States Marshals badge in front of the cowardly townspeople who refused to help him and stomping it into the dust.

It's a great movie. It's a great ending. It's a Western. It's a simple story about courage and loyalty and about cowards.

What I did not realize, until Marion Morrison pointed it out in a 1971 Playboy interview, was that it was _un-American._ Marion not only concluded that it was un-American. He felt that it was the most un-American thing he had ever seen in his whole life. More un-American than ducking World War II to make pretend patriotic movies. Now, in case you are wondering what in the hell the Duck could have possibly been talking about in calling _High Noon_ un-American, it turns out that Marion "the Duck" Morrison was a deep thinker and an intellectual who could read between the script lines and see things that the rest of us were too stupid to see. It turns out that this was a _communist propaganda film_. Who knew?

Glenn Beck, are you paying attention?

Going out to fight alone against impossible odds to fight evil and protect people who were too cowardly to protect themselves was sending a message that was tantamount to treason. Huh? Well, you must remember that those commies were sneaky bastards. You see, at the time, Joseph McCarthy was Sherriff of the House Committee on Un-American Activities that was accusing everyone he disagreed with about _anything_ of being communists. Sort of like Glenn Beck does today. Senator McCarthy was ruining as many lives as he felt like destroying by inventing evidence and calling people names that guaranteed they would never work again.

In Hollywood, McCarthy's supporters engaged in blacklisting—circulating secret lists of people who were essentially banned from working anymore in the movie industry. It remains one of the most despicable periods in American history. It was the template for future fanatical right-wing political campaigns. Accuse people who honestly disagree with you of being communists, socialists, godless, Kenyan anti-colonialists, closet Muslims, progressives, liberals, socialists, and homosexuals. Terrorize the electorate by implying that diseases were spread under the other guy's administrations. Lie, make things up, plot in secret, and punish any kind of dissent. Yeah, that's the American way!

Anyway, the Duck believed that there were subtle messages being sent by _High Noon._ The townspeople weren't just townspeople. They were—get this—the same people who were critical of the Joseph McCarthy witch-hunts being portrayed as cowards, and Will Kane was a _communist_ being made to appear sympathetic and heroic. The truth about his un-American message comes out when the steps on his badge and grinds it into the dust, which was the cinematic equivalent of burning the flag! There you go. I had no idea.

This would remain the most important propaganda alert of the twentieth century until Jerry Falwell saved our nation from total moral decay by pointing out that the Teletubbies cartoon was really a propaganda tool for spreading acceptance and promotion of homosexuality. Again, who knew?

But it turns out that John Wayne was not the only one who saw _High Noon_ as a propaganda tool. In the Soviet Union the film was officially denounced as a "glorification of the individual." So, it turns out that John Wayne and Joseph Stalin (a real mass-murdering communist, as opposed to the pretend kind) both saw the same film and had the ability to read between the lines. They both hated it. They were both were experts at vilifying anyone who disagreed with them and identifying those people as unpatriotic.

By the way, President Eisenhower and President Reagan, both of whom were Republicans and both of whom _did fight_ in World War II and both of whom would properly be referred to as true American heroes as opposed to pretend ones, loved _High Noon_ and thought it was a great Western.

Here's is a suggestion for you fear mongers out there. Fight like a man. Fight like an American. What are you so afraid of? If you meet a communist, sit down with him and argue about the merits. Point out the evils of the system and that one hundred million people have been slaughtered as a direct result of this despicable, fanatical worldview. Show him that it has never worked in any country that has tried it. Explain why our system may not be perfect, but it is far better. You think government bailouts are a bad economic idea, and that supply-side economics is the way to go, explain why. You think welfare and food stamps lead to lack of an incentive to work, say so. These are legitimate arguments that have merit. I may not agree with you on some of them, but I am willing to talk to you about any of them.

When you stoop to the politics of calling people who disagree with you names... when the best you can come up with is "if you believe that, you are un-American," then you have much more in common with Joseph Stalin and Joseph McCarthy than you do with Thomas Jefferson. And when you want to talk about American heroes, spare us from your adulation for the guys who _pretended_ to be. John Wayne's name really was Marion Morrison. He was the Duck, not the Duke. He was shooting and ducking from blanks. Pretend bullets.

**How to Read the Constitution**

We founded this country because there were things we didn't like about the British system. We did not like being governed as colonies. What the hell... were we _anti-colonialists? Oh my Gawd!_

Newt Gingrich, are you paying attention?

We didn't like being told to pay taxes without getting any say in the laws that governed our behavior. Like the citizens of the District of Columbia, who are mostly African-American, so there are people out there who don't want them to have two senators.

This country was established, of course, by a bunch of traitors. It's just that they were traitors to the British Empire. So we fought a war, kicked some foppish, well-dressed, fancy-pants British behind. Then we sat down and wrote a declaration about how we would govern ourselves and the basic human rights that would be guaranteed to all men (except the ones we owned to pick our cotton) called the United States Constitution. That document sets forth the most magnificent system of rights and government ever put forth on this planet. That's no joke.

There are Evangelicals and Mormons (Latter Day Saints) who believe that the Constitution was actually given to us by God and it is perfect. The Doctrine & Covenants, which form part of LDS scripture, states as divine revelation that "... the U.S. Constitution was established by God and by men whom God raised for that purpose. And for this purpose have I (God) established the Constitution of this land, by the hands of wise men whom I raised up unto this very purpose, and redeemed the land by the shedding of blood" (D&C 101:80). Blood-shedding has been very important to God over the years.

God, as we will see later on, saw nothing at all wrong with slavery. He encouraged it in the Old Testament and gave specific instructions on how to divide slaves up after a divinely-inspired conquest. He even set forth a kind of owner's manual. So it made perfect sense to inspire the Founding Fathers in the practice and mention it in God's official Constitution. The Enumeration Clause, where representatives were apportioned based upon population, stated that each slave would be counted as 3/5 of a human.

There was actually a huge fight between the North and South on this issue. The Northerners wanted slaves counted like mules or cattle, because they wanted the South to have fewer representatives. The South had lots of mules, cattle, _and_ slaves, so they wanted the slaves counted as regular humans for apportionment purposes, and mules for other inventory purposes. Hence the 3/5 compromise. Article 1, section 9, allowed the slave trade to continue until 1808.

It is easy to see God's hand at work here and why anyone who criticizes the Constitution is clearly labeled as unpatriotic and godless. The original Constitution was actually very much like the Bible. And you don't see people going around and tinkering with the word of God. Except for occasional changes in concepts like babies being kept out of heaven if they die before they are cleansed of Original Sin. That part has been modified a few times.

It was, at one time, declared that babies went to hell if they had not been baptized, which made perfect sense to most people, because everyone knew that babies were born evil and unless the Church sprinkled magic Perrier water on them, they would remain evil. That was amended (possibly because of recurrent droughts in Texas, where they were always running short of magic water and it didn't seem fair) and they were subsequently kept in a kind of celestial holding pen called limbo, where they had music and dancing under wooden bars, but it wasn't all that great because babies can't dance. Today it appears that God is changing his mind on all this and babies that have not showered properly in the Catholic Church _may_ get into heaven after all, but it isn't clear. He's still thinking about it. The babies await an answer, but these things can't be rushed. Rules are rules, and if you aren't cleansed of the Original Sin you were born with, it's hard to see how you can be forgiven for all those things that were done before you came into the world so you can be let into heaven. It also isn't clear what will happen to all the babies that were sent to hell and limbo in olden days if the policy changes. By my count, there are a lot of them. We are awaiting clarification from the Vatican.

Hey, in case you are shaking your head and thinking, _He should make up his mind already_ , don't be so hard on Him. He makes mistakes. He changes his mind. If I didn't know better, I would say he's only human.

Getting back to the Constitution and how it was unarguably divinely inspired, anyone would have to concede that it was so absolutely perfect that we only had to amend it _twenty-seven times._ I frankly don't know how you get more perfect than that. Although we haven't had to amend the Ten Commandments very often, they have been _clarified_ about a bazillion times by every Christian denomination on the planet—but that's another story.

Apart from those minor twenty-seven constitutional amendments (divinely-inspired as divine afterthoughts... oops, we forgot about...) it was perfect as written and crystal clear. If you can't understand the clear, unambiguous language of the Constitution, you are, quite frankly, an idiot—or an illegal alien who can't read clear and plain American English. And we sure don't need any judge-type people who went to any so-called law schools telling us what is there for all of us to read in black and white!

Let me give you examples of some things that need no fancy interpretation.

The First Amendment to the Constitution states pretty clearly: "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."

How does it get clearer than that? Take the part about Congress not being allowed to prohibit the free exercise of religion. What, I ask you, could possibly be less in need of an explanation? I can worship anything and pray any way I want. If I want to be a minister in the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, Congress can't stop me. I am ordained, by the way. I have a certificate dated July 2, 2011, and I am available to perform weddings, confirmations, bar mitzvahs, adult circumcision ceremonies, and exorcisms.

I have been trying in vain to pick a legal fight with some state that would try to prohibit me from officiating at such an event because they would claim that I wasn't a _real_ minister from a real church. Tennessee, for example, requires that you be have to be entrusted with "saving souls" in order to perform a wedding. No one from my church has given me that specific authority.

I should mention that the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster was founded by a prophet named Bobby Henderson. I know what you are thinking... but why _not_ a prophet named Bobby? His Bobbyness was a college physics student who had a revelation while eating pizza or something, and demanded that the truth about the universe being created by the Flying Spaghetti Monster be taught in the Kansas school system alongside the Creationism story the Evangelicals wanted taught. I think that his argument is irrefutable, so I hereby offer to represent him when and if the time comes that the Kansas school board ignores the establishment clause of the otherwise perfect Constitution and began teaching God stories in the public schools. Our religious ideas about God (we are known as Pastafarians) are every bit as imaginary as Scientology, Church of LDS—or Christianity for that matter.

You should check out Bobby's website at www.venganza.org and buy a shirt or something, because he spends a lot of time in a hammock in the Philippines and other exotic places, refusing to bother people about seeing the pasta light. That is a religion I can buy into (literally—I was ordained for thirty-five dollars and had no qualifications other than being a smartass), and you might want to give it a try.

Where was I? Oh, yes. Congress shall make no law and religion, etc. I was pointing out how clear that was. We have all kinds of religions and that is what makes this country great. All those religions. That and the God-given right to drive SUVs the size of an oil tanker. (That one is not in the constitution but it is clearly implied.) So when an Aztec warrior and high priest is pulled over driving a Chevy Subdivision and the police find three dead virgins in the back whose hearts have been forcibly removed while they were still alive during the sacred Aztec religious ritual of rape and murder honoring the God of Bloodlust, the guy _cannot be charged and or even prosecuted_. Even if he has the still-beating heart in his hand. End of story. We cannot and dare not prohibit him from practicing his religion. It says so in the Constitution and anyone who doesn't understand that can't read English.

Congress shall pass _no law_ prohibiting the free exercise of religion doesn't mean they can pass _some laws_ prohibiting the free exercise of religion. I cannot find any exceptions in the First Amendment and I've looked between the lines and everywhere. I've read that divinely-inspired amendment a hundred times. The one that was so important that it comes first. And anyone who disagrees with the strict construction of this ordinary language could fairly be called un-American. Or unpatriotic. You know those people. The ones who claim it is necessary to have judges _interpret_ the law in a reasonable fashion.

That is why Newt Gingrich, during his short-lived campaign for the Republican nomination, suggested that if he were president, he would send United States Marshals to bring judges before Congress to answer questions about why they interpreted these crystal-clear laws differently than _he_ would have. And I think Newt was on to something here. He would be well within his rights as president to arrest any judge with whom he disagreed—if he could just get somebody to agree with his interpretation of the clause of the Constitution that talks about the three branches of government, and how the judiciary is entrusted with deciding cases and controversies under the law. Because, according to the Newtonian interpretation of the Constitution, _what that really means_ is that the judiciary is allowed to decide cases and controversies so long as there is an outcome that _Newt thinks is the right one_. Especially if he became president. Of the United States. And of Congress. And of the judiciary.

Henry VIII and his divorce reasoning comes to mind. Where does it say anything about "checks and balances" and not letting one branch of government have too much power? Under a Newt presidency, judges who disagree with him would do so at their peril. I understand that some might argue that Newt's constitutional interpretation is stretching things a bit, and treading on the principle of separation of powers, but he does have a history degree or something, and I only went to law school.

I am, frankly, in awe of how perfectly the "strict constructionist" worldview works in these situations. The Founding Fathers meant what they said they said what they meant. And it is perfectly okay to read between the lines, as long as you do it with special strict constructionist glasses, which can be purchased at any Heritage Foundation Souvenir Store or from the website www.Newtrules.com. If it is still confusing you could email Rick Perry for an explanation.

The Aztecs do, however, present a thorny problem. As do nutcases that call themselves Christian Scientists (not to be confused with Scientologists, who are a different cult of nutcases), who believe that they can cure their children of an appendicitis attack using the infallible Rick Perry How to End the Texas Drought Formula... by praying _really hard_. You see, their children routinely die when these idiots fail to pray hard enough. The same reason it didn't rain in Texas. You should now slap yourself in the forehead and say, "Why didn't I think of that when I bought that lottery ticket?"

The Christian Scientists are, of course, exercising their freedom of religion under the United States Constitution. Just like the Aztecs. If their children die, their children die. That's tough, but we should not be screwing around with a divinely-inspired document that has such easy-to-read language. And anybody that thinks differently should move to a country where they don't have such a clear constitution.

**Strict Constructionism**

If you are having trouble with all this, it can all be made clear by understanding strict constructionism is also known as _originalism._ Two isms for the price of one. That ism holds that judges have to apply the text of the law in a formalist way—only as it is written, i.e., only as it was originally _intended_ to be understood.

Intent is such a simple concept. This means that judges must first give a clear meaning of the text. Who could argue with that? Once the text of a law is interpreted clearly, there is no need to draw further inferences or stretch the original meaning. I heard Sarah Palin give a speech on this principle and it really did sound very simple. I think she mastered the idea in a paper she wrote in the fourth or fifth community college she went to. It was the same semester she wrote the one about Putin rearing his head and looking at people in Alaska. How tall is Putin, anyway? Sarah recently gave a speech to CPAC where she was talking about family gifts and she said that her husband, Todd, got the guns and "I got the rack." Cute. Here is my theory about why so many guys would vote for her. It's similar to Herbert Hoover's promise of a chicken in every pot. Politics, you see, is about the exchange of favors. My theory is that the guys who want to vote for her are hoping they will get favors. You may, but I don't think you are going to get that kind of favor. So get your hands out of your pockets, step away from the voting booth slowly. That's it. Now start thinking with the other head. The big one. Because Sarah is a nitwit.

Armed with this easy-to-understand and infallible concept of originalism, let's go on to another simple, sacred principle enumerated in the First Amendment... the one about freedom of speech.

Here is a variation of a transcript of a lecture I give to college and law students as a visiting professor expert-type person on the First Amendment. You may recall that the freedom of speech part is just as clear as the freedom of religion part. It says, "Congress shall make no law abridging freedom of speech."

What part of _no law_ is unclear to you? "No law" does not mean "some laws" or "a few laws" or "three or four laws." It means _no goddamn law_. Period. End of discussion. And just in case you want to get cute, "abridging" means depriving or reducing in scope. So you aren't going to find any slippery word-wedgie there. And speech means speech.

Let's go over this one more time. Congress shall make no law abridging freedom of speech. Any questions? Because if you have any about this one, Newt Gingrich will send his history police out to beat the living shit out of you. So, let's move on to something else. Let's talk about... I see a hand went up in the back of the room. Sigh. Yes, what is it? What's on your mind?

AMBER

Professor Howie, like, what about if, like, I'm at the mall and, you know, like, I don't have any money and like I really need some make-up, and my best friend Brittany says, "Like, hello... Amber, we could cause a distraction and I will bend over with my low-cut tank top in front of that dorky clerk and while he is looking at my hooters, you could, like, score the eye shadow in your purse and he will never suspect a thing." Well, what if a mall cop overhears the conversation and arrests us before we actually steal the eye shadow?

HOWIE

Amber, that's different. That's conspiracy and we have laws against that.

AMBER

Well, yeah, but hello... it's speech, isn't it? And you just said that they can't pass any laws against speech, didn't you? I mean, all we were doing was talking. It's still speeching, ya know? We didn't actually steal anything.

HOWIE

Well, Amber, conspiracy is a separate kind of speech—or speeching, as you put it—and the Founding Fathers never intended to make that kind of speech protected. I promise there won't be a question on the exam covering conspiracy. Let's move on to—

AMBER

Professor Howie...

HOWIE

Yes, Amber, what is it now?

AMBER

Well, I saw this TV show the other night, and this Arab terrorist person was, like, talking on the phone, and the FBI guys had intercepted the call and were, like, listening in on his conversation and everything, and the Arab person gave an order to another Arab person to blow up Congress in Washington, D.C., with a newculer bomb... at least, I think he was Arab, because he talked funny... I'm not prejudiced or anything, but, anyway, the FBI broke in and arrested him. What about that?

HOWIE

Amber, that's similar to the example I just gave you. Plus, the FBI can do that under the PATRIOT Act, a law passed by Congress that is founded on the unassailable principle that anyone who voted against it could be immediately singled out as not being a patriot.

AMBER

Oh, okay... I know I'm, like, being a pain and everything but what about if I stand up and yell, "Theater!" to a bunch of fireman and they, like, panic? Is that protected?

HOWIE

I think you are referring to Supreme Court Justice Holmes's example of yelling fire in a theater, which is not protected speech. That's different, too.

AMBER

I thought so. Thank you for clearing that up, Professor. I just wanted to be sure.

I hope the transcript of this exchange clears everything up and emphasizes the infallibility of strict constructionism and why proponents of that ism never ever waver. And why judges who "interpret" the laws are clearly of the Kenyan anti-colonialist, socialist, anti-American, unpatriotic ilk. Any questions?

True story: James Perry was a small-time Detroit thug who aspired to become a big time thug. He wanted to become a hit man and move closer to the top of the thug food chain. Having already spent a significant portion of his life in jail, he astutely concluded that anybody could whack a guy for money, but getting caught wasn't a real good idea. James Perry wanted to become a _professional_. But there weren't any courses for aspiring hit men at this local community college so he did what any motivated wannabe would do. He sent away for a correspondence school course. Where does one get a correspondence school course on contract murder, you may be asking? There is such a place. It's in Boulder, Colorado, and it is called Paladin Press. Paladin sells books of the "how to" variety. Here are some of their course titles.

\- BE YOUR OWN UNDERTAKER—HOW TO DISPOSE OF A DEAD BODY

\- HOW TO MAKE A HOME MADE FLAME THROWER

\- B & E, A TO Z

\- HOW TO MAKE HOME MADE C-4

\- SMUGGLING MADE EASY

\- HOW TO RIP OFF A DRUG DEALER

\- KILL WITHOUT JOY—THE COMPLETE HOW TO KILL BOOK

\- NOW TO DESTROY BRIDGES

One of their manuals actually had instructions on how to make a baby bottle bomb. That's a bomb that is disguised as a baby bottle, so that you can use a baby in a stroller to blow up the baby and a shopping mall—or day care center, if you are so inclined. And, of course, the one in the catalogue that caught Perry's eye. _Hit Man: A Technical Manual for Independent Contractors_.

On March 3, 1992, James Perry fulfilled a contract to one Lawrence Horn, who wanted his ex-wife and their severely disabled son murdered so that he could inherit two million dollars in settlement money that had been won for the child in a lawsuit. Perry followed twenty-seven specific instructions straight out of the hit man course. I use the word "course." They used the word "publications," because "publications" are speech and speech is protected by the First Amendment. Paladin Press, it is worth mentioning, is where Tim McVeigh sent away for instructions before he blew up the Oklahoma City Federal Court Building. Now, just in case you think I am engaging in hyperbole about what _Hit Man_ was intended to be about, here is what Paladin admitted for the purposes of the subsequent lawsuit I filed:

**1.** Their target market consisted of criminals who wanted information on how to commit crimes and non-criminals.

**2.** They knew and intended that the publications would be used to commit crimes.

This was the legal equivalent of "eat shit and die, bottom-feeding trial lawyer [me]; you can't lay a glove on us." It was a book. So it didn't matter that they _intended_ to help people commit crimes. End of lawsuit to hold them responsible for aiding and abetting Perry. You can't sue somebody for writing a book. And that is where the battle lines were drawn. Was it a book, and therefore protected speech, or was it something else? Well, it had a cover and printed words and pictures and everything. Looked just like a book when you picked it up and turned the pages. Pretty good argument.

When I first decided that this was a suit worth filing, I did what lawyers always do. I ran it by other lawyers. They uniformly asked me the same thing: _How are you going to get around the First Amendment? Books are protected speech. Nothing could be more protected_.

I knew what the First Amendment said. Well, sort of, but the truth was that I had to go back and read it. I also knew that it came _first._ That was about it. With absolutely no research or real understanding of the eight zillion cases that had been decided on First Amendment grounds, I responded with my best legal argument: _this shit can't be protected. It just can't be_.

I kept shouting variations of that theme every place I went. And I went a lot of places. I was on every talk show that had air time. I went on _60 Minutes_ and turned _Larry King Live_ into a bowling alley. I gave interviews to media in Europe and Japan. I held up a copy of _Hit Man_ and waved it around; then I did the same with a big old Bible. And I said, "This is not a book." Neither is this Bible if I hit you over the head with it. It then becomes a weapon. It is being used as an instrument that assists in the perpetration of a criminal act. Yes, the Bible has lots of instructions for violence in it. The difference is that the Bible wasn't written _with the intent that people use it as a club._ When you do that, you are _misusing it_. You are using it for a purpose that was not intended by the creator/Creator. It is therefore protected speech.

_Hit Man,_ on the other hand was designed to be used in _exactly_ the way that James Perry used it. As a how-to-murder course. When Julia Child publishes a cookbook with a recipe for chocolate chip cookies, she knows and intends that people are going to use it to make cookies. It is being used as it was designed to be used. What is the difference between a recipe for cookies and a recipe for murder? Do we live in a country where we can sue people for hurting our feelings and calling us names (defamation) but we can't file a suit for intentionally helping somebody commit murder?

Well, they were clever arguments. My _forte._ Once again, I was the TV sound bite champ. After I did _Larry King_ and _60 Minutes,_ I landed a gig with NBC as a cable news legal analyst. I was flying. It was great... And then the entire world came out to fight me. Publishers, Hollywood, all the TV and radio networks, newspapers. Walt Disney came after me! Walt Disney and Goofy and Mickey and Minnie _lined up with_ _Paladin Press_. Go figure. They came at me with everything.

Here is some advice: If you want to pick a fight sometime and you have to choose between insulting Mohammed and the entire Islamic world or pissing off the American First Amendment community, think long and hard. The First Amendment community has a lot more money and power. And here is why they were terrified: if I could hold Paladin liable, I could go after Tom Clancy when some terrorist learned how to take out an Air Force base using an A-657 Attack Hot-Air Balloon or something else culled from one of his horribly written novels.

It was a slippery slope and if the slide started with Paladin Press, it would never end. It would be Armageddon for the First Amendment. Open season on books and libraries! First Amendment lawyer-type guys spend their entire lives scaring the shit out of people with the dangers of slippery slopes and exploding libraries.

I responded. I always respond. Judges often threatened to have me gagged to get me to stop responding. My response was simple. Tom Clancy didn't write his novel intending that it would be used to commit a crime. His hypothetical novel is being _misused._ So was the concept of character development in his books. But that is beside the point. This publication called _Hit Man_ is not really a book. It isn't speech. Just because it is bound and uses printing doesn't end the inquiry. What is it _really?_ It's an instruction manual for murder. It's an instrument designed to facilitate crime that uses words to help bring the crime about. No different than if they sat down and trained James Perry one-on-one in how to be a hit man. You wouldn't hear them saying _that_ speech was protected. You wouldn't hear a First Amendment argument about John Gotti using the spoken word to order a hit in Italian. Does Paladin get more protection because they send it out to lots of would-be murderers instead of limiting it to one?

But these First Amendment guys had unlimited resources. I had a loud voice and a plethora of cool sound bites. In the end, it wasn't a fair fight. They should have stopped it early on because the deck was stacked.

About five years later, we were arguing this case in the Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals, which is the last stop before the Supremes, having previously gotten our asses handed to us by the trial judge, who had said something like, "It's a book. Hit the road." The trial judge wrote an opinion that would have gotten him a D- in a high school civics class. I don't mind a judge disagreeing with me (that may or may not be true) if he uses sound principles of legal reasoning. This judge—named Alexander Williams, Jr., who I am forbidden from criticizing publicly by my profession's canons of ethics — actually summed up his complex reasoning by telling us that, "the First Amendment is an important one". Luckily, we were a step ahead of him on that score having noted amongst ourselves that it came first.

And who do we draw on appeal as the lead judge in the most conservative, strict constructionist circuit in the universe? Judge Michael Ludig, who makes Anton Scalia look like a liberal. This guy is the national poster boy for strict constructionism. Well, guess what? Judge Ludig not only agreed with us, he killed them. He said that this case had nothing to do with the First Amendment. When you use speech to commit a crime, it loses its protection as speech because it no longer is speech. It's just another way of perpetrating a criminal act. No different from giving an order to commit a murder. It turned out that it _really was that simple. This shit wasn't protected_.

But it would have been protected—and so would an order to murder, or a spoken conspiracy to assassinate the president—if we didn't allow judges to figure out what the First Amendment meant and what the Founding Fathers reasonably intended when they said _no_ abridging freedom of speech. The Supreme Court looked at Judge Ludig's opinion and said the equivalent of "This ain't even close," and let the ruling stand as the law of the land.

To this day, it is the law of the land.

And that, my friend, is why we need judges, not some demagogue history professor like Newt Gingrich telling us what _he_ thinks the law is. That is why the Founding Fathers left it up to _the judiciary_ to make rulings, instead of the corpulent little egomaniac who would be king. And that is what separation of powers in the Constitution is all about. And if the Constitution isn't working out correctly we can _amend it._ Like we did twenty-seven times. _We, the people_ can amend it. Says so right there in the Constitution. Go read it. It's a wonderful document.

This is a wonderful country. And it always will be if we resist the temptation to hand it over to the demagogues. And, oh yes... when you are reading the Constitution, don't forget to read the part where we abolished slavery.

Notes

\- There is no need to document the fact that Donald Trump has a fat ass. However, with respect to his service to his country during the Vietnam War, he publically claimed that he was fortunate to have received a high lottery number in 1969 and therefore did not serve his country. And, in fact, he did receive a high lottery number that year. But the reason he didn't serve was that he received four student deferments from 1964–1968, and was subsequently classified 1Y and then 4F before the lottery came into existence.  http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/donald-trumps-vietnam-draft-records-secret-documents-deferments/story?id=13492639

\- With regard to John Wayne, aka Marion Morrison, and World War II, see _John Wayne's America_ by Gary Willis. But if you aren't interested enough to read the book see:  http://www.truthdig.com/report/item/20070526_memorializing_the_deadly_myth_of_john_wayne

Nine

Mother Nature, Creationism, and Intelligent Design

" _Nature, Mr. Allnutt, is what we are put in this world to rise above."_

—Hepburn to Bogey in The African Queen

" _Ernest Hemmingway said, 'The world is a fine place and worth fighting for. I agree with the second part.'"_

—Detective Summerset, Seven

According to the creationists, the theory of Intelligent Design trumps the theory of evolution. It explains so much more and explains it so well. It fills in the gaps. But before we get into this issue in depth, I want to share a little news item about the debate between evolution and Creationism. _The Washington Post_ ran an interesting article the other day about lizards in the Bahamas.

Turns out that in 2004, Hurricane Frances wiped out a local population of Anole lizards on several small islands. You've seen these little guys. They are green and look like the stupid British GEICO insurance gecko. A Harvard University biologist saw a unique opportunity to test the evolutionary process. He dropped mating pairs of Anole lizards on the islands where they had been wiped out. Within just a few generations—this is the astounding part—the back legs of the lizards on all seven islands began to shrink. He concluded that "shorter legs provided more agility for the lizards as they navigate the smaller decimated shrubbery on the islands. And agile lizards can catch more insects and more easily dodge hungry birds."

The reason I mention this little item is that I am betting that a team of investigators hired by Donald Trump, and encouraged by Rick Perry, Michelle Bachman, and Rick Santorum, is on its way to the Bahamas to prove once and for all that the so-called Harvard guy is a known liberal, secular humanist, global warming alarmist who engages in "Chicago style" science and it will turn out that he actually _glued_ the shorter legs on the lizards to fraudulently advance this secular, anti-Christian, evolutionary agenda. That investigation and the devastating evidence it is sure to turn up will happen just as soon as Trump's team of investigators returns from Honolulu with the evidence that proves that Islamic terrorist, evolution-believing time travelers went back to 1961 to plant Obama's birth notice in the Honolulu newspaper knowing that he would run for president forty-six years later. Stay tuned.

The theory of Intelligent Design is an ism. It actually has much in common with Birtherism. The methodology for dealing with contrary irrefutable evidence used by both is identical. Birthers believe that President Obama could not have possibly been born here because they simply don't want to believe he could have possibly been born here. A reasoning process analogous to Donald Trump's belief that his lemon meringue-colored hairstyle is trendsetting and drives the babes wild.

Therefore, the Birthers will not, under any circumstances believe that a guy named Barak Obama was born here. If they did believe he was born here, they would have to accept that a guy who doesn't look like a regular white guy president would _actually have been elected to be the president._ That cannot and should not be. It isn't fair. Therefore he _must_ have been born somewhere else. It would not and has not made any difference what evidence a Birther is confronted with—birth certificates, old newspaper articles, affidavits from doctors who delivered him—it would not matter. It all just proves to what lengths these dark people and their supporters will go to groom a person who isn't white to take over the country.

Here is the specific reason why they will not listen to anything anyone who disagrees with them ever says: _The more so-called indisputable evidence there is that he was born in the U.S., the more we should be worried about the breadth of the conspiracy. In fact, the sheer volume and undeniability of evidence that he was born in the U.S.A. proves conclusively that he was not!_

There you have it. And they cannot believe that the rest of us do not follow this line of reasoning. If you sat down with one of these idiots and pointed out that the exact same reasoning and argument could be made about John Wayne or Ronald Reagan, they would tell you that you have lost your mind. John Wayne and Ronald Reagan were American-born. Everybody _knows that. They even look_ like regular Americans. End of argument.

These same people believe that President Obama's order to kill Osama Bin Laden proves conclusively that he is a Muslim terrorist. He was trying to keep Bin Laden from telling the truth! And don't ever suggest to them that John Wayne wasn't a real cowboy or that we would not have prevailed in WWII without him. They have _seen_ him in action. Not so for President Obama, who never made a single movie!

The Birther phenomena can best be explained by the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders IV (DSM IV) as a complex psychological predisposition known as "Grade 5 Stupidity." There were only four recognized stupidity grades prior to the Birthers making themselves known. No matter what you say or do, a stupid person will continue to be and act stupid. There is no cure, so you shouldn't waste your breadth arguing with them. Arguing with a Birther and showing him evidence is like showing Winston the bulldog an article about how unhealthy deer droppings are and explaining to him that they are not, in fact, dog caviar. Winston, however, would seem to exhibit a greater breadth of understanding than Birthers do—before he ate deer poop. Birthers may be dieting on deer poop, for all I know, after having heard Rush Limbaugh proclaim that it really is caviar.

The battle cry of the creationists is the same as Mulder in _The X-Files._ "We want to believe." The problem is that they insist that everyone believe the same thing: God made everything. It is, at its core, the same as a child's refusal to give up a belief in Santa Claus. No matter what you say or what scientific evidence you show to a creationist, he can find a reason not to believe it, because he has been shown an old book that says a man in the sky, who he is convinced looks very much like Charlton Heston did in _The Ten Commandments,_ made everything in six days because _that's exactly what the Bible says_. Then He said that people who didn't believe the six-day story or anything else in the Bible should be stoned to death for blasphemy (it says that, too).

Tests will someday show that Birthers and creationists are uniformly missing the same objective thinking gene. They probably should be discouraged from breeding. They definitely should not be allowed anywhere near school boards. But I fear I am too late. They are probably breeding and running for school boards all across the country as I pound these keys.

Evangelicals believe that Creationism should be taught in the public schools. I'm sure that many of them would like Birtherism to be taught in the same classroom. They say Creationism should be taught _along with_ evolution, but they don't _really_ believe that. What they _really_ believe is that evolution is a just one of those silly science theories and shouldn't be taught at all. Science, in general, should be replaced with Christian education that emphasizes "God's will." Or "God's won't," for those occasions when he decides not to get involved.

As I write, there is a serious presidential candidate who, on the one hand, says everything his opponents do is unconstitutional _and,_ on the other hand, says that the idea of the separation of church and state "makes me want to throw up." Senator Rick Santorum would literally like to end the separation of church and state. He and his Evangelical hordes argue that this was founded as a "Christian nation." My guess is that he would like the United States to be a kind of theocracy. In this respect, they have much in common with the people who flew planes into the World Trade Center. The difference between Iran, Saudi Arabia, and the United States would be that our theocracy would be a _Christian_ theocracy. In Iran and Saudi Arabia, by the way, they still stone people who disagree with the official state-sponsored religion. I wonder how Rick Santorum feels about that. The Iranians get that stoning punishment from the same kind of "God says" book that Rick reads.

Rick was the darling of the Evangelicals during the Republican primaries in 2012. Rick also believes in Creationism.

Evolution, say most Evangelicals, is a muddleheaded, secular, ridiculous concept and people who believe in it will go straight to hell if they are not reeducated. I often wonder if Evangelicals would be receptive to using waterboarding or the rack or some other swell, church-approved, inquisition-style "enhanced interrogation" technique to reeducate the non-believers. Don't laugh. Of all religious groups polled, white Evangelicals—the loudest and most fervent believers in Creationism, love-filled, born again followers of gentle Jesus—are the most likely to approve of torture. (I didn't make that up. See the notes at the end of this chapter.) No one has bothered to poll Birthers on this issue, because the answer was so obvious.

Anne Coulter proclaimed that the Jews need to be "perfected"—that is, taught how to believe in Jesus properly, like Christians. I wonder how far she would go to "perfect" them. I know she believes in the appropriateness of torture in circumstances where the government decides someone is really a threat so... I'm fairly alarmed. This will seem totally random, but I just thought about the mythical half-woman, half-winged beast called the harpy. Harpies were vicious, cruel, and ugly female creatures of Greek mythology. They were the official torturers sent by the gods to screech at and defecate on anyone who they thought was displeasing the gods. Harpies preyed on the unperfected. I just thought I would throw out that image in case anybody wants to make a cool poster with Ann as the poster girl for ism intolerance.

I am going to try a brand-new approach with the creationists. I'm pretty sure this has never been tried before. The mistake scientists and people who think rationally (I once saw a Sunday morning televangelist give an hour sermon on the evils of reason) always make when they argue with creationists is that... _they argue science and reason_. They use logic and facts and silly things like fossils and biology and observations of things they can see and radiocarbon dating. Arguments that the true believers say "Peshaw" to. If an oil spill appears to be the Virgin Mary, it is damn well a sign from God and that is the end of that. You can't tell someone who sees Jesus in Winston the bulldog's droppings that he's not there.

So, instead of trying to make these people play on the science field, I would like to play on their Creationism field. I'm going to accept the creationist argument, explain what is behind it, and see where it takes us. And if they still insist that the oil stain Mary is a sign from God, well... good for them.

Here goes: the world could not have just happened. It was created and a creation implies a creator. The Creator necessarily _had to have intelligence._ It takes intelligence to make things work. If there were no intelligence behind creation, the world would be filled with really stupid things. Intelligent design, the reasoning goes, makes perfect sense. Life on earth is so packed full of wonderfully complicated creatures that someone _must_ have designed and created them. If Pangloss attended a Texas school board meeting, he would point out that there are billions of hamburgers sold at Burger King, therefore we have been given cows from which to make them. You have to concede that it is hard to argue with that one.

The most popular logical argument relied on by believers in Intelligent Design dates back to 1802 and involves watches. Every first-year philosophy student has to read William Paley's logical proof for the existence of God. The fact that it is given to freshmen college students, most of whom are stoned when they go to class, should be evidence enough that it isn't real hard to understand. It is called _The Teleological Argument_. But who cares what it is called. We aren't playing Philosophy Jeopardy! here. I was just trying to impress you. Here is how the argument is set forth by Paley.

" _In crossing a heath, suppose I pitched my foot against a stone, and were asked how the stone came to be there; I might possibly answer, that, for anything I knew to the contrary, it had lain there forever: nor would it perhaps be very easy to show the absurdity of this answer. But suppose I had found a watch upon the ground, and it should be inquired how the watch happened to be in that place; I should hardly think of the answer I had before given, that for anything I knew, the watch might have always been there. [...] There must have existed, at some time, and at someplace or other, an artificer or artificers, who formed [the watch] for the purpose which we find it actually to answer; who comprehended its construction, and designed its use. [...] Every indication of contrivance, every manifestation of design, which existed in the watch, exists in the works of nature; with the difference, on the side of nature, of being greater or more, and that in a degree which exceeds all computation."_

The first question that should pop into your mind, assuming you have grown up and aren't stoned at this exact moment, is... just what in the hell is a heath? If you _are stoned, you are undoubtedly thinking in terms of Heath Bars_ and have a craving for one at this very moment, but I'm not going to clear this misconception up and explain the heath concept to you because it isn't important and if I tell you, you will use it in casual conversation tomorrow at the office and prove to everyone that you are an insufferable and pretentious asshole. The second question you are probably asking is, "Hey, like, dude... did he find a Rolex or a Timex?"

Now _that_ is an excellent question and shows you are paying attention. Assume it is a Patek Philippe. Paley's point is well taken. A Patek Philippe is a complicated thing with a purpose (telling time and demonstrating to the babes that you are a rich, insecure jerk-off), and implies a Patek Philippe _maker,_ and a potential customer who drives a BMW 7 series and has hair plugs that look like cornrows. None of those things can be explained by the notion "shit happens." Shit _does_ happen but not that kind of shit. So it is with nature, Paley goes on to explain. Animals, vegetables, and us. These things are really complicated. Therefore (or ergo, if you prefer) they must have been _designed_. Game, set and match. The meeting of the Possum Trot County, Texas school board is hereby adjourned. Teachers of evolution will be sentenced to death by stoning and Governor Rick Perry will not hear of any appeals. I can't even believe we are arguing about this.

Aside: I once saw Bill O'Reilly convince himself that he destroyed—I mean _totally_ destroyed—an atheist-type person with the following question: _What about the tides? How do you explain the tides?_

Bill was expressing his incredulity that anyone could possibly rely on science to explain really complicated things. So he threw out that debate-ender. It seemed (to Bill and no one else with an IQ greater than a zucchini's) like the ultimate gotcha question. When people with a fourth grade education later tried explaining the moon and gravity to Bill, he called _them_ "pinheads."

Bill is one the brighter bulbs at FOX. I propose a charity reasoning contest between Bill O'Reilly and Congressman Hank Johnson. It would break all pay-per-view records. I am fairly certain that Bill stays away from the tips of islands.

Back to the Intelligent Designer and some of the wondrous things he designed. Take our old friend the genital wart. It takes a lot of biological activities acting in unison to create just one of those love gifts that just keeps on giving. Genital warts, in scientific terms, rise above the skin's surface because of enlargement of the dermal papillae and the characteristic nuclear changes typical of HPV infections (nuclear enlargement with perinuclear clearing).

Now, here is my question: Do you really believe that the stuff I just described _just happens_? Of course you don't. You know very well that it occurs after the guy wearing the Patek Philippe has unprotected sex with the hot little babe he met in the Village. The one with the multiple body piercings and the tattoo with a big arrow from her belly button down to her panty line that says, "The party starts down here."

Next question: Are you seriously going to try to tell me that there wasn't an intelligent genital wart designer at work here? Puh-leez. Of course there was. And he taught our horn-toad yuppie hedge fund guy a thing or two, didn't he? I'm almost ready to rest my case and send my children to public school in Texas.

Governor Rick Perry, by the way, is a product of the Texas public school system. He attended Paint Creek class of '68 and he went on to get bad grades in college and still became governor! A governor implies people voted for him. Texans. Lots of them.

So... if a watch implies a watchmaker, and a Rolex implies handcrafted precision _and_ people with much too much money, what does the design of the world we live in imply? What does nature imply? Isn't it fair to draw conclusions about the skill and personality and psychological makeup of the Intelligent Designer by carefully examining his work? What more insight could we ever ask for into the mind of any artist than by carefully studying his art?

Take the classic song from the 1963, "Surfin' Bird," sung by the Trashmen. The artist/singers/songwriters (there were actually three of them who collaborated on this masterpiece of lyrical inanity) put unforgettable lyrics (A-well-a, everybody's heard about the bird. Bird, bird, bird b-bird's the word) together with just two chords. The result was a magnificent musical disaster.

What does this artistic expression tell us about the artist? The creators and designers, if you will (I won't), of the song? This song did not _just happen._ It didn't _evolve_. _Au contraire._ Somebody had to discover mind-bending drugs and/or prodigious amounts of beer to write and sing it. _A surfin' bird_ implies a _surfer_.

Dudes, are you paying attention?

Let's move on to dinosaurs. I suppose the pinhead, brainwashed evolution people are going to tell you that dinosaurs also _just happened_. Think about it. They came in all shapes and sizes. They were huge. Some ate plants and some ate other dinosaurs. They left turds bigger than Donald Trump. They stood around a lot. And they did all that quite successfully for _165 million years._ How long do you think it would take you to count _that_ high? Can you imagine? Creatures designed so astoundingly well that they ruled the earth for 165 million years. Things like that don't just happen! They were designed that way. Purposefully. As part of a grand dinosaur plan.

And then one day, I imagine, the Designer probably just realized that He had made a terrible mistake. It's the _only_ sensible explanation. All those millions of years and these big dumb lizards hadn't even learned how to do tricks. Or make anything useful. They just weren't (ahem) _evolving_ into anything interesting. Assume that the Designer looked down on His scaly creations one day and said, " Tyrannosaurus rex, I hereby forbid you from ever eating an apple. Don't even think about it!"

I mean, there isn't even going to be any temptation or anything because dinosaurs were, like, totally stupid. The serpent in the Garden would have been a snack. And they were never going to learn how to cure cancer or make Chia Pets or Rolexes. It just wasn't going to happen. How do you test obedience and devotion to the Creator if you have made a creature that hasn't even figured out after 165 million years how to think or say, _huh?_ It can't be done.

So, how do you clean up a terrible mistake of dino-sized proportions when it dawns on you after 165 million years that it isn't working out the way you hoped it would? Answer: You throw a big honking comet at them, wipe them all out, and start over. Bingo. Now, are you going to tell me with a straight face that wiping out all of the dinosaurs when He realized He had made a terrible mistake isn't indisputable proof of a higher intelligence? I don't think you are. It takes a really intelligent designer admit his mistakes, kill them and start all over. That's the very definition of _higher intelligence:_ realizing after a 165 million years that you screwed up.

But that was a long time ago. What do we see when we look at the world today? Whenever I hear Louis Armstrong sing about what a wonderful world this is I can't help but get teary. He nailed it. And a wonderful world implies a wonderful Designer. One who learns from His mistakes. No getting around it.

Sometimes filmmakers treat us to visions of what it would be like if we encountered horrible, merciless creatures from a not-so-wonderful world. In _Alien_ and _Aliens,_ two of my favorite soliloquies are delivered up as food for thought. In the original _Alien_ , the replicant, Ash—what is left of him after Sigourney Weaver and friends violently disassembled him—described the monster that the crew was up against. You probably remember this scene vividly, because a skim milk-like substance was dribbling out of Ash's mouth as he lay there, disassembled and candidly assessing the crew's chances.

ASH

You still don't understand what you are dealing with, do you? A perfect organism. Its structural perfection is matched only by its hostility.

RIPLEY

You... admire it.

ASH

I admire its purity. No conscience or remorse. No delusions of morality.

In the sequel, _Aliens_ , Sigourney Weaver is putting the angelic little girl to sleep. The child is the lone survivor of the slaughter that occurred before the Space Marines arrived to save her and battle the aliens.

LITTLE GIRL

My mommy always said there were no monsters... no real ones... but there are.

RIPLEY

Yes, there are, aren't there.

LITTLE GIRL

Why do they tell little kids that?

RIPLEY

Most of the time it's true.

Actually... most of the time it _isn't_ true. The thing that made the _Alien_ monster so horrifying to us was not just that it killed people mercilessly. Lions and bears will do that. It was _how_ it killed people. It effectively paralyzed its human victim and implanted an egg in the stomach of the unwilling host. When the larva was ready to hatch, the baby alien ate its way out in an unforgettable scene, after which very few moviegoers would order lasagna for at least a month. But the monsters are real. And in our world, they do unimaginable things. Things you probably don't want to hear about. I don't care. I'm going to tell you a little about them anyway.

The creature in the _Alien_ movies is modeled after a rather ordinary insect that we have named the digger wasp. It is quite common. And it does those terrible things—and worse—to its victims routinely. Without remorse or conscience or delusions of morality. The digger wasp feeds its young by first paralyzing a tarantula and then burying its eggs inside the hairy spider's body. The baby wasps are born in this borrowed womb and get their first bit of nourishment by eating their way out of the tarantula's body _while_ _it is still alive_. How's that for a design?

Now, tarantulas are not particularly warm or cuddly and, to the best of my knowledge, no one has received a grant to figure out whether they scream in horrible tarantula anguish while they are being slowly and grotesquely devoured tiny bite by tiny bite from the inside out. But I would wager a guess that this creature has nerve endings just like we do and if we are going to assume anything without the benefit of a telltale scream, it should be that there is a good chance that it feels unimaginable pain. As does the baby wildebeest that is torn apart by lions. As does its mother, who must stand off at a safe distance, watching helplessly. What a wonderful world.

Consider for a moment the word "natural." What is the first image that pops into your mind? I would venture a guess that you see a mountain stream cascading over fern-draped boulders into a crystal-clear pool where a magnificent rainbow trout lies just beneath the surface, while a soft-eyed doe gently sips the clear, clean spring water next to a warm and cuddly bunny rabbit. _Natural_ is clean, _natural_ is wholesome. _Natural_ is benevolent—the way God had things set up in the Garden of Eden. But the truth is that when you look closely, there are horrible parasites in the clear water. The trout is a voracious killer who lies in wait for smaller fish. The gentle doe is likely to be eaten by wolves or shot in the neck with an arrow by some guy with a six-pack playing Daniel Boone in the woods. How about the fuzzy bunny? She is lunch for just about everything. Suffering a horrible, painful death by a predator, disease, or starvation is the most natural and inevitable thing about life on earth. These are not the exceptions. They are the inviolate rules.

Killing to eat is process we don't much think about unless it becomes personal. Like if you had to spend the day in a slaughterhouse with baby lambs. Usually killing is very impersonal and sometimes that is what makes it so scary. Most of nature's predators will eat you if they are hungry and you happen to walk by. It is just that simple. That is the way they go to work. And they aren't terribly merciful when it comes to ending the suffering of their victims. They would just as soon eat you while you are screaming as not. If they kill you quickly, it is because they don't want you to put their eye out while thrashing about or hurt their eardrums with all that screaming. It is not because they are concerned about how much you suffer. They could care less whether you suffer.

There is nothing morally wrong, of course, with predators. That is what they are designed to do for a living. They kill and they eat what they kill.

I saw a visually painful example of this process once on the Discovery Channel. The feature was all about Komodo dragons, the world's largest lizards. The daily routine of the dragon is probably the closest we can come to seeing dinosaurs in action. They are terrific the way they swagger around the island of Komodo, flicking their forked tongues out to catch the scent of rotting flesh of a goat or horse. And when they find a carcass and pull it apart, watching them work really isn't so bad. Actually, it is kind of interesting. And the Discovery narrator commented that we were seeing the efficiency of nature at work _cleaning up t_ he island. It is a _good thing_ we are witness to. Fine. I can buy into, and probably sell shares of, philosophical stock in the concept. The dragon as a cleaner and a garbage collector.

But it seems that the Komodo dragon is also an excellent hunter. First, the filmmaker showed a big black rat scurrying across the dragons path—and whoop... he was dragon food. Swallowed whole and dead in about the same it takes a nine-year-old boy to say, "Cool!" Nature hard at work controlling the rat population. Rats, of course, need to be controlled, because in every corner of the globe, the Intelligent Designer appears to have made too many of them. They carry loathsome diseases like the bubonic plague. So, He made dragons and snakes to chow down on them.

Then I witnessed something not so cool. It was a deer staggering around with grotesquely mangled hindquarters. Turned out it had been ambushed by a dragon. And here is how the dragon goes to work. The bite of a Komodo dragon is as vile a wound as exists in all of nature. While it is not technically poisonous, it might as well be. It is chock full of incredibly deadly bacteria. The dragon lies in wait in the bushes for an unsuspecting deer twice his size to wander by. Then he springs out and grabs on with his horribly infectious serrated teeth to a part of the deer that is close to the ground. In this case, the right hindquarters served nicely. The deer was a strong and large foe and escaped. Hooray for the deer! But the bite wound turned out to be a nasty one. In no time at all, it began to fester and develop into gangrene.

Now, there is every reason to believe that gangrene is as unpleasant an experience for the deer as it would be for, say, your daughter. It hurts. It hurts in indescribable ways and in the forest there is no emergency room to dispense morphine and antibiotics. Also, bed rest is not a realistic possibility. Because, you see, the dragon is still out there, waiting and stalking. The suffering and the necrosis of tissue and the pus and the stink are all part of _the plan_. The Designer's plan. This process is designed to unfold as I described. It is the way that the dragon prepares his prey for the kill. The deer may limp along, suffering like this, for a couple of days or more.

The filmmaker I was watching chose to compress the limping and the pus and the festering wound into about seven seconds. Just long enough to get the idea. Then the dragon caught up with the deer again. This time, he managed to seize his weakened prey by the front leg. Now, for some reason, the dragon is not designed like the cheetah—for seizing prey by the throat in what appears to be a mercifully quick grip causing death by strangulation. But the deer, now wounded in two limbs, is unable to flee or put up much of a fight. So the dragon begins his feast.

It's allowed. It's encouraged and perfectly okay. The dragon begins to rip chunks of meat from the deer's flank while it lies there with its head in the air and, well... screams. It is not a loud scream. But it is definitely a scream. And it is horrifying. The mouth is open at what seems like an impossible angle and thick streams of saliva seem to connect its top jaw to its bottom and the deer's suffering eye bulges out helplessly under the hot afternoon sky. The camera remained as a witness to this grisly feast for what seemed like an eternally long ten seconds. In that amount of time, the dragon's teeth evoked three pitiful screams from the deer.

I got up and turned off the TV. The deer, of course, remained behind. I do not know how long the deer screamed while the dragon continued to rip chunks away. I suspect it was a long time. The deer's hide was tough and the dragon was finding it slow-going.

I imagine it must have taken a lot of creativity, intelligence and planning to come up with that particular killing design.

The lioness, who we think of as a fairly swift and merciful killer, often rakes the hindquarters of her prey with massive claws and then seizes it pretty much wherever she can sink her teeth in. She holds on until she is joined by the pride, one of whom eventually grabs the victim by the throat. A zebra will take up to thirty minutes to die this way. The lions do not wait to begin their feast. Try to imagine how long thirty minutes is without anesthetic. Better yet, just try sitting perfectly still in your most comfortable easy chair and not blinking while you watch that entire thirty-minute episode. That shouldn't be so hard. I think it should be required viewing for Evangelicals.

The male lion is fairly lazy. He is also a thief and bully hardwired to scavenge, fight with hyenas, steal food from the females, and mate whenever the females come into season. That is what he does. That is what his design dictates that he does. There are many occasions where a male feels the need to mate, but the only females around happen to be nursing and are therefore not in the mood. But the male is knows exactly what to do in such a situation. He isn't very romantic. He will hide and wait until the lioness is out hunting. Then he will find the cute little cubs, the ones you saw being bottle fed in _Born Free_ , and he will kill and eat them. Sometimes he just kills them and leaves them for the mother to find.

He probably understands at some level, why he should do this. He must know, in some sense, that it works wonderfully to bring the female back into season. And it does works. It's part of the design. But you needn't worry. It's okay. It's part of the grand design. It wasn't a part that Walt Disney thought was appropriate for the final cut of _The Lion King_ , but they needed a G rating. Elton John sang the "The Circle of Life" theme song, as I recall. The good old circle of life. Animals tearing other animals limb from limb ad infinitum.

Of course, the design that encourages the devouring of babies could just as likely have been happening to a lost four-year-old Masai village child. Dragons and lions don't have much respect for children. It does happen. Believe me... children die in horrible ways. Yesterday, I read about a two-year-old boy who fell into a zoo enclosure among a pack of painted wild dogs. They tore him apart while his mother watched helplessly. It happens in Africa routinely. I wonder what the Creator is doing when a two-year-old child is being torn apart. Mysterious, isn't he?

I think the Designer must have understood the efficiency of creatures eating their young (and occasionally ours) even if we have a tough time with it. It happens all the time. Here is a list of some of the creatures that are designed that to eat their own young: Baboons, chimpanzees, langurs, seagulls, squirrels, crows, butterflies (butterflies? Are you kidding me? I kid you not.), African hunting dogs, rats, ground squirrels, lemmings, hamsters, mice, voles, muskrats, gerbils, prairie dogs, marmots, and about a zillion insects.

There is, of course, nothing morally wrong with any of these creatures. They don't understand good and evil. They just do what they are designed to do. So unlike the unemployed boyfriend on crystal meth who kills his girlfriend's toddler in a drug-induced rage, it doesn't make any sense to ask, _what could he have possibly thinking?_ It isn't an _intelligent_ question. There is no good and evil in the bush. Never has been. Well, almost never.

Mother Nature dishes out countless instances of unimaginable suffering every second of every day since life first appeared on the planet. Perhaps scenes like this were what led the philosopher David Hume to note;

"... _The whole earth believe me Philo, is cursed and polluted. A perpetual war is kindled between all living creatures. Necessity, hunger, want stimulate the strong and courageous; fear, anxiety, terror agitate the weak and infirm. The first entrance into life gives anguish to the new born infant and its wretched parent; weakness, impotence, distress attend each stage of that life, and it is, at last, finished in agony and horror. Observe too, says Philo, the curious artifices of nature in order to embitter the life of every living being. The stronger prey upon the weaker and keep them in perpetual terror and anxiety. The weaker, too, in their turn often prey upon the stronger, and vex and molest them without relaxation. Consider that innumerable race of insects, which either are bred on the body of each animal, or flying about, infix their stings in him. These insects have others still less than themselves, which torment them. And thus on each hand, before and behind, above and below, every animal is surrounded with enemies which incessantly seek his misery and destruction."_

There is, of course, a biological answer to the question of why animals (including us) are eaten and suffer. It has to do with energy. In order to keep moving around and do the things that they do, all living things need energy. Take people, for example. Dr. Harold Morowitz, Professor of molecular biophysics and biochemistry, author, and natural philosopher explained our energy needs like this;

" _A human being_ (for example) _is a far-from-equilibrium object and there exists in nature a universal disordering tendency that breaks down ordered structures and drives them towards equilibrium, the state of maximum disorder. To counter these disordering tendencies we must do work to rebuild the ordered structures and this evolves the expenditure of energy. This component of the human energy budget is measured by basal metabolism and presumably represents the minimum energy needed to keep the organism from decaying. It is this battle or ordered systems with the entropic tendency that guarantees us that if we stop eating, our mass will decrease."_

In other words living things need to eat stuff that can be converted into energy or they die. And eating other living things gives us the energy we need in the most efficient packages. There you have it. This is why animals eat one another and suffering is the natural design by-product.

But is it really that bad? Do forest animals suffer the same as people in a similar situation? Rene Descartes, the founder of modern Western philosophy, thought that animals didn't suffer at all. He speculated that they were unthinking, automata without feelings whose actions, responses, and yes, screams, could be explained in simple mechanistic terms. What we _mistook for suffering_ , said Descartes, was simply a manifestation of the parts of these robot-like creatures ceasing to function together. Followers of Descartes thought that they proved the point conclusively by actually going out and torturing animals to show that their screams of agony were comparable to noises from malfunctioning machinery. One clever test of this theory involved nailing a dog's paws to a board and slicing the dog open to see how it worked. When the dog's screams became too distracting to concentrate on the important work at hand, its vocal cords were cut. All of this was of course a perfectly okay thing to do because beagles were not capable of suffering. In this well thought out philosophical position, Descartes was, of course, horribly wrong. Deer and beagles have nerve endings (neo-receptors), blood vessels and tendons that send horrific messages to their brains in precisely the same way as human animals. Rationalism, one of the most important philosophical breakthroughs in the history of man didn't serve him particularly well in reaching his conclusion about animal suffering.

Human beings seem to have a pre-programed belief that they are somehow fundamentally different from every other living thing ever that ever was. We have succeeded in defining ourselves by what we are able to do. For example, No other animal has ever come close to designing a Chia Pet. One thing is certain. We have evolved into very clever and efficient killers. We have learned how to kill virtually every life form on the planet and have truly mastered the art of extermination. We are so adept, so clever and so resourceful at killing there can be no question but that we have raised the endeavor to an art form. Killing has become such an important part of our culture that we do it for the pure joy of it. Killing is great fun. Hence hunting as an ESPN sponsored sport deserving of its own channel. Is there any experience in the life of a human hunter more gratifying than hiding in the bushes, pulling the trigger and watching an animal that lives by browsing on vegetation blown off its feet and die? And the joy... the good warm feeling inside for the hunter to know that he made a good shot. A _clean_ kill. Good and clean. A komodo dragon is hard wired to kill you mercilessly, painfully and horribly, but as far as I know, they have never been seen giving each other high-fives or terrorist fist bumps after a fun time hunting. But hunting is challenging and everything. There are farms that make hunting a little easier and will prop up a drugged, tame lion or an elephant in large enclosure so their sportsmen clientele can stalk it by opening the gate. Most of these sportsman's nirvanas are in Texas. The sportsman-hunter looks through a telescopic sight and fires a high velocity bullet that travels at about 2500 mph at the stationary lion that has no idea he is being hunted. I don't for a second doubt the skill involved in this sport. I am sure that I couldn't do it.

Can you imagine the time it took to design these things from hummingbirds to hunters? The creativity and ingenuity? And there is probably a master-plan for all this. But we aren't allowed to see it. Ever. Sorry, but we just have to have faith. Nature is full of puzzling quirks. Take homosexuality. Creationists see homosexuality, not as a design flaw, but as a choice made by morally depraved people who are likely to vote for democrats. But that's different and has no place in this discussion. So let's move on. I don't even know why I brought it up. Oh yes. Now I remember. It seems that monkeys, dolphins, penguins, bears, rats, lions, elephants, cheetahs, raccoons, orcas, dogs, cats, and owls, have all been observed engaging in the gay lifestyle. I have no idea why. But there must be a design reason that makes sense. A watch implies a watchmaker and a watchmaker wouldn't design a watch that kept time backwards. Unless he was an idiot.

Interestingly, I have been unable to find a single religious text, article, or discussion written in the last two thousand years that even attempts to deal with the issue of what the Designer was thinking when he vomited out the system of animal suffering. Human evil is pretty routinely dealt with in Sunday sermons in terms of Adam, Eve, and the fall of man. It's perhaps the stupidest story ever told and I will have more to say about it later. But what did deer and rabbits have to do with Original Sin? As far as I know, they don't even like apples.

I hereby challenge every religious leader in the world to come up with a Designer's rationale for animal suffering. Bring it. But wait (I just slapped myself in my forehead for being such a lunkhead)—I almost forgot. There is the old "mysterious ways" explanation. That should take care of it. Everything was created by a Designer who works in mysterious ways. There you have it. Creationism in a nutshell.

When it comes to humans, I am always in awe of the creativity that went into our design. Humans were created with some very strong biological imperatives that we commonly think of as urges. Sex, for instance. If you step back and look at it from a distance (I agree that most sex is better if viewed from close up, but I'm trying to make a point here), it's pretty weird and funny. Sex is the hardwired urge we have that tells us to be fruitful and multiply. We get aroused and excited in potential reproductive encounters. And the way that we do it is for the males of our species to insert a funny-looking swollen appendage into an equally funny-looking fleshy opening in the female and hump like rabbits while saying things like, "Ooh," "Ahh," and, most commonly, "Oh, my God!" Now _that_ is pretty funny when you think about it. Why "Oh, my God?"

It is also ridiculous-looking if you stop to think about objectively. But it feels really good and the orgasm is our reward for fulfilling our job reproducing our species. Or pretending to. I'll say this... it all works. I'm not knocking it. Anyway, we are apparently _designed_ to be horny in our reproductive years, so that we can reproduce. And we were given Viagra so we can extend the fun into the years when we move into the Villages. It's all hardwired into our brains. We are supposed to do it. It's the most natural thing in the world. It is so natural that the average guy in his reproductive years fantasizes about sex at least five times every waking hour.

And, as you will learn a little later, we can go straight to Hell _for even thinking about doing it._ Except in the case of certain members of the clergy, who apparently get as many free passes as they want, still get to go to heaven, and are often put in different parishes and moved around to places where they can practice their procreation skills on small children. But I am getting ahead of myself. It's just that there are some things that are so interesting that I can't wait to tell you about them.

In case you forgot (my fault), we were talking about Intelligent Design and the Intelligent Designer. The Big Creator. I have often wondered if the Big Creator ever thought about a subsistence system where all creatures ate, say, rocks or dirt. Unlimited supply and nobody gets hurt. Or seawater. It has a lot going for it. Horses and cows get along fine on grass. My system would eliminate so much suffering and horror. Or how about a reproductive system where you gently pull your mate's earlobe? No fuss, no muss. And instead of an orgasm, you could be rewarded with a Twinkie or something.

And then there is the matter of ear hair in men over fifty. There is a puzzler if ever there was one. I think about this every time I notice that my ears need trimming and find myself thanking the guy who invented the battery-powered ear hair trimmer. What did guys do in olden days? I don't even want to think about it. But I believe I have come up with a viable theory regarding why older men are designed that way. You see, those ugly tufts were thoughtfully put there by the Creator to keep predatory twenty-five-year-old babes away from old guys who have money. Makes perfect sense—and it works.

Another interesting design the Creator gave us is the almost unlimited variety in people. We are all so different. There is just so much hardwiring variety. So many urges for so many things. Jeffrey Dahmer comes to mind. I'm not quite sure what it is that I expected to see when I tuned in to A&E that night. I mean, Jeffrey Dahmer looked like some dim-witted 7-Eleven clerk. Nothing particularly evil that you could see. Just some nondescript, frail-looking schmuck who said, "Yes, sir," and, "No, sir," to the judge. I really wanted to see him drooling or baying at the moon or shouting praise to Beelzebub. I wanted to witness the evil side of free will in action. But Jeffrey acted very meek and respectful. One of the guys you would have predicted would inherit the earth. He said he was very sorry.

Jeffery's hardwiring was different. People come in so many shapes and sizes and with so many different ways of looking at the world and their fellowman. It's really amazing. Jeffery looked at other people as snacks. He had been eating people, and torturing them in unimaginable ways before he killed and ate them. Believe me, you really don't want to know the details. But when I watched him, the whole voyeuristic experience was quite disappointing. There was no sudden insight. Not even a little gratuitous revulsion. Dahmer just _was_. That's all you could say. Like the lion or the Komodo dragon. He just was.

So here I was again, about five years later. A young lawyer working in the county prosecutor's office. This was one I just had to see in person. He was going to enter a plea. He also had different hardwiring. _Really different._ The case didn't get any publicity. I think that the reason was that even the press—the guys who seem never to be at a loss for words when it comes to a good horror fest—could not figure out how to describe it in a dignified way. No one would take the job.

This was about what happened to a thirteen-month-old baby. The age at which they are all smiles. A toddler. The very embodiment of love, joy, and innocence. Anyone who has ever been a parent understands what it means to have a toddler. Every day is a day that you never want to end. Rainy, cold days are days to be thankful for. You wake up and put your robe on and go in after you hear him babbling in his crib and you can't wait to see that smile that lights up the world. This little living part of you who holds his arms up to you and says "Up, up..." and will gleefully jump off a wall into your waiting arms because he knows that you love him and you will catch him every time. And those little arms and hands that reach out so you can pick him up and carry him into your room.

Life is unquestionably wonderful at those moments. It is pure and simple and there is no other conclusion to be drawn other than the obvious one. A loving Creator has been very hard at work.

No, the normal rules of outrage did not engage. It simply could not have happened. Not in a world that understood the intrinsic beauty and goodness of these little ones. But it had. This raised again that disturbing old question: _What was the Designer thinking? Why would he create such urges? Why would he allow them to develop?_ These are the mother of all questions. Was I back to his mysterious ways?

The person who did the thing was named Timothy. I wondered whether his mother called him Tim or Timmy. I wondered if he had a mother or was the spawn of monsters. And what was it about his hardwiring that made him get sexually excited by this kind of monstrous act in the first place? _Was_ it his hardwiring, or was it some kind of defective software that some defectively hardwired sick uncle or his mother's boyfriend had installed when Timmy was little and innocent and still very programmable? Hard to know.

Timothy sodomized that baby boy to death.

But I digress. We all know that human infliction of suffering and depravity has something to do with free will and is in a very special Double Jeopardy! category. There is suffering. And it is the design's cardinal rule. Progress would not happen without it. But there is nothing random about it. That's the way things were designed to work. That's the design.

It's brilliant in its effectiveness when you stop to think about it. Without suffering, nothing would ever move forward. Competition to stay one step ahead of ripping jaws or poisonous fangs or a club, knife, or nerve gas is what makes us evolve and grow as human beings. I could have never come up with that design. I am in total awe when I think about it. And it all makes perfect sense—if you have the right worldview and accept the concept of mysterious ways.

Mysterious ways actually explains _everything_ that is or ever will be. Pretty goddamn ingenious if you ask me. Wouldn't you love to know who came up with that one? Who was the first man who said, "God works in mysterious ways"? You probably thought it was in the Bible. And there is something like it in the book of Job. But actually the phrase was coined by a guy named William Cowper, who died in 1800 after a long struggle with depression. Here is the beginning of his poem:

God moves in a mysterious way

his wonders to perform;

He plants his footsteps in the sea,

and rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines

of never failing skill,

He treasures up his bright designs

and works his sovereign will.

_And I say to myself... what a wonderful world._ I began this chapter by talking about how by examining a watch you could tell something about the watchmaker and what made _him_ tick. I was musing about what conclusions we could fairly draw from examining the product of all his hard and painstaking work. So, what conclusions can we logically and fairly draw about the Designer of nature? The Creator.

Well, one conclusion is that he is _mysterious_. But so are serial killers. So was Hitler. Is it fair to conclude that the designer of our world is the most prolific killer of all time? After all, everything living that has ever been created has died or will die.

While you may conclude, without any evidence or rational basis, that being dead may not be so bad, you would have to admit the process of _getting dead_ sucks. It is usually a very ugly chain of events. Prior to the use of morphine, it was an unimaginably horrific chain of events. Dying of cancer or tuberculosis or an arrow to the gut or a zillion other things was not a go-gentle-into-the-night process. People didn't just close their eyes and go to sleep like they do in the movies. As Woody Allen once said, "I'm not afraid of death. I just don't want to be there when it happens".

The reason movies are not realistic in that regard is not because they shy away from showing graphic horror. It's because they don't have the time to show dying realistically. It takes too long, it's ugly, and it isn't very dramatic. People would not have the stomach to watch it. If people had to really confront what was waiting for them, they couldn't take it. Of course, those of us with advanced medical care really can go to sleep at the end. But what about those people who live in countries that don't have it? And what about the countless people who died horrific deaths before there was gently-go-to-sleep medicine? How about an alternative design where the "alive switch" is just turned off? Time is up and you are out of here. Make the best of things while you are here. How difficult would that have been for the Designer to work into the plan if he needed to include death for some mysterious reason?

If the Designer was limited by the rule of entropy (i.e., everything in the universe runs out of gas—even a Prius) what would have been the problem designing a world where we ate grass and flowers and died instantly and painlessly at the end? What is the motherfucking point of Alzheimer's? To see how much dignity you can withdraw from a good man's life? What could possibly crueler than designing that one? And if the answer has some stupid connection to the idiotic notion of Original Sin, why inflict suffering on zebras?

Here is a list of possible answers to the question _what could He possibly have been thinking?_

**1.** The Designer has created the best of all possible worlds. Pangloss was right. If he had designed a world where all of the animals ate flowers and berries and were nice to each other, he would turn out to have been some kind of communist vegan and all the animals would have been really bored and there wouldn't be any hamburgers, for god's sake!

**2.** The Designer started the ball rolling and then adopted a "hands off" policy to see what would happen. Planet Earth is, therefore, some kind of cruel celestial science fair project for the gods. The blue ribbon goes to the designer whose planet evolves with the most suffering. This one has a lot going for it.

**3.** Planet Earth is the product of a designer who has severely limited design capabilities. Of all the big-time designers in the universe, we got stuck with the Governor Rick Perry of Designers who got awful grades, but has good hair.

**4.** This used to be a wonderful planet, but we pissed the Designer off, fell from His grace, and screwed everything up. We are being punished for an apple that somebody else ate. This is the Evangelical worldview and explains why they are rarely invited to critical thinking conventions.

**5.** Life on Earth has some intentionally cruel design features. The Designer is guilty of design malpractice and should have his license revoked. Or at least be sued by hordes of personal injury lawyers. This is my personal favorite because I used to sue people for a living.

**6.** The Designer works in _mysterious ways_ and having humans die horrible deaths and animals eat their young, rip one another apart, starve to death, die of diseases, and be hit on the head by comets is part of a really cool and clever plan. Just wait and see. Have a little faith, will you?

These are the thoughts that keep me up at night writing this book. I played golf with a guy who suggested that these were stupid musings. He informed me that a flea could never hope to understand what a human being was thinking and that we are all fleas compared to the Big Designer. So his answer to these thorny questions was "Don't even go there." He thought it was a sin to even think about it. Go about your business and be thankful if your child gets a brain tumor. Maybe it's all a big obedience test. Life is like the Abraham and Isaac story, but, in the end, _we really do get sacrificed_ —so shut up and man up. There's a plan.

I am fairly certain that the priest who rapes a child and is then asked by the child why the priest did that to him is given a similar response. Have faith. Don't question. And, whatever you do, don't tell anyone. It's part of the plan.

There are times when the world doesn't seem to make much sense from a "here's the plan" perspective. We know a lot about _how_ the world works in certain ways, but we know very little about _why_ it works the way it works. That is a very important distinction. _How_ deals with the mechanics. _Why_ deals with the reason or purpose for the mechanics. How can we make sense out of the way the world is? The way it is designed? How can we resume singing, "And I say to myself... what a wonderful world?"

How can we accept the great design plan and stop asking all these thorny questions? I'm afraid that we just have to have faith.

Notes

\- An interesting poll result on the Evangelicals attitude about torture:  http://www.pewforum.org/Politics-and-Elections/The-Religious-Dimensions-of-the-Torture-Debate.aspx

\- If you are interested in more details of the Aztec Theocracy and religion, check out: <http://aztec.com/page.php?page=religion>. Perhaps you will get some insight on the importance of keeping religion out of government. I note that a serious presidential candidate in the last election, Rick Santorum, declared that the concept of separation of church and state made him "want to vomit." (<http://www.addictinginfo.org/2012/02/26/rick-santorum-insults-jfk-says-separation-of-church-and-state-makes-him-want-to-vomit/>) Rick would have made a positively wonderful Aztec high priest or chief. Alas, he was born too late.

Ten

Making Sense and Nonsense of the World: Religion Isms

" _Mark my word; if and when these preachers get control of the party, and they're sure trying to do so, it's going to be a terrible damn problem. Frankly, these people frighten me. Politics and governing demand compromise, but these Christians believe they're acting in the name of God so they can't, and won't compromise. I know. I've tried to deal with them."_

—Barry Goldwater

**Give Me That Old-Time Religion**

As far as we know, Cave Man-type humans did not leave memoirs or give interviews. But it is safe to assume that the very first religion was invented for one reason: fear.

It's the only thing that makes sense. Fear had to be the original motivating force that produced worship of invisible, all-powerful, purposeful forces. When humans walked the earth, dodging Saber-toothed tigers, it is doubtful that spirituality and rules about Sabbath-breaking were on their minds. Fear of dangerous things and events beyond human control was, however, always present. Survival from one day to the next was what mattered. Fear of not finding any food, fear of being eaten by a predator, fear of dying in childbirth, fear of other hostile tribes, fear of disease, suffering, and death. And, if you think hard, not much about that great motivator for believing in gods has changed.

There are, however some new fears. There are churches dedicated to praying for money and our fear that we don't have enough. They are called "prosperity churches." I am not making this up. You can find them on your Religious Fanatic Cable Network (RFCN) and they will teach you that you can get big bucks out of God and Jesus if you say the right prayers and send enough of _your_ money to the TV prophets who tell you the proper way to pray. Apparently, prayer alone won't get the job done. If you don't send in money, you will go to hell and be just as poor when you get there as you were when you left Earth.

Fear of what might today—and certainly will eventually—happen to you in this the best and only available world is the driving force behind every religion since men began to reflect on such things. Pain and death are always out there on the horizon. All animals probably understand pain and have an awareness that they need to avoid situations that can bring it about. That is why gazelles run when lions approach and horses don't step off of cliffs. Fear of unpleasant consequences is the single most important driving force in in the animal kingdom. But the abstraction that physical death is _inevitable_ is probably uniquely human.

I say _probably_ because it's hard, of course, to know such things for certain. Animals do communicate in all sorts of marvelous ways and we underestimate them all the time. It's possible, I suppose, that gazelles know all about death and worship some deity that they think will protect them from lions. But, more likely, worship, prayer, and religion arose when human language developed and became advanced enough for humans to share their thoughts and experiences—and, of course, their fears. This must be when they realized _as a group t_ hat not only could they be eaten, starve to death, be clubbed, stoned, or stabbed, but that if they survived all those things, they would get old, wrinkled, weathered, infirm, impotent, and just plain run out of gas. At some point it dawned on humans that death was waiting there for everyone.

No one knows when our species first figured that out. There was no evidence left behind, because these realizations and abstractions predated writing.

Anthropological studies of primitive peoples point to animism—or belief in spirits of animals and even inanimate objects such as the sun, the moon, and the planet—as the first kinds of religions. As humans became smarter and smarter, they also became... well... sillier and sillier about dreaming up causal relationships between events. As soon as they discovered the concept of _cause and effect,_ they promptly began to reach ridiculous conclusions about what things caused other things to happen.

This brings me to the tricky problem of causation. The most important causation issue for primitive man involved solving the problem of what it was that caused things that brought about life, prosperity and death.

Whether they can articulate it or not, all animals understand cause and effect to some extent. Hanging out in the lion's neighborhood can get you eaten. Lions, therefore, _cause_ being eaten. Understanding the relationship between events and what causes events helps all higher life forms survive. And one of the abstraction skills that made humans so incredibly clever was our advanced ability to recognize connections between events and give them names. When apples fall off trees, they go down. It happens every time. It is a predictable event everywhere on the planet. Let's call whatever causes that downward event "gravity." Somebody else will need to explain this to Bill O'Reilly. I don't have the time or the patience to go slow enough.

One day, early in the ancient history of humans, during a mastodon hunt, a hunter was squashed when he approached the big fellow from the business end. Shortly after that, a draught occurred and game, water, and food that could be gathered became scarce.

Here is what I think it is safe to assume happened: a clan member whose hair mysteriously grew in what would later be known as the pompadour style, who would go on to pass his genes down the line to the sub-species of televangelists, had a seizure of some kind and began shaking violently and speaking nonsense. (Today he would be given a fat contract to appear as a commentator on FOX.) The next day, it rained and no one was squashed on the mastodon hunt. Someone put two and three together and concluded that Pompadour Man had been communicating with a powerful invisible higher authority. Was it possible that his strange behavior had something to do with the success of the hunt?

A fellow hunter asked Pompadour Man about his strange behavior and Pompadour Man began to think. He was not a very good hunter and he was incredibly lazy when it came to gathering edible plants, berries, and tubers. So, he promptly became the first religious leader, claiming direct influence with invisible powerful gods, who only he could communicate with and influence. And then he began to tell everyone else what to do and threatened them with bad shit if they didn't follow his advice. People brought him gifts and bestowed a position of power and honor upon him. They brought him fresh meat, good things to eat, hairspray, and their virgin daughters. The tradition of giving him 10% of the take probably started right then and there and was passed down for eons to the Mormons and Catholics. Pompadour Man was otherwise unemployable and, recognizing his limitations, he continued to make stuff up and scare the bejesus out of the other clan members. He blamed people he didn't like for the occurrence of things like death in childbirth, lightning strikes, food scarcity, and genital warts.

The clan continued to support him because he had a scary voice, he could do seizures at will, and seemed to be connected. He took credit for anything that happened that was good, and blamed non-believers for anything that happened that was bad. Not much has changed if you fast-forward to Pat Robertson.

It took a very long time before somebody got tired of forking over 10% of the hunting and gathering take. It took even longer before one of the hunters said something like, " _Cum hoc, ergo propter hoc,_ you morons."

_Cum hoc_ has nothing to do with spitting. It is the reasoning fallacy committed when one jumps to a conclusion about a causal relationship based on the observation that two events occur simultaneously or one right after another. Today, modern man looks back and snorts milk out of his nose when he reads about Pompadour Man conning his fellow clan members out of the fruits of their labor by telling them that severe storms were caused because they didn't behave properly or give him enough of their food. How dumb were _they?_

Today, we are much smarter about recognizing that when somebody tells us that us that bad things happen if we don't give them money and good things happen when we follow orders and do give them money and that they have a special line of communication with invisible forces, we need not pay them any mind. We recognize that they may be engaged in a scam to avoid gathering food and supporting themselves with honest work. At least, some of us do. Others join the Church of Scientology or the Church of Latter Day Saints.

Now, I must admit that sometimes it takes great genius and depth of perception to see _true_ causation connections. A stunning example of this took place when Congresswoman Michelle Bachmann observed that the swine flu broke out during the time President Obama was in the White House (which didn't prove to be much of a breakout, but it damn well could have been) and the _same_ swine flu broke out in the '70s during the time Jimmy Carter, _another Democrat,_ was in the White House.

There is not another person on the planet who thought of that connection. This could lead you to the conclusion that (a) Michelle is from another planet, or (b) Michelle is a direct descendant of the first religious con artist who I call Pompadour Man.

What I confess I did not realize is that Jimmy Carter was in the White House at the _exact same time_ as Gerald Ford, because the first swine flu actually broke out during the Republican Gerald Ford administration. I wonder if any First Lady-swapping went on.

Michelle, by the way, collected lots of campaign contributions from Evangelicals and won the Iowa straw poll for the Republican nomination for the President of the United States. This leads me to the conclusion that a lot of Iowans are smoking their own straw and that it may be composed of some weird shit and be a better cash crop then they realized.

We are much more advanced and better-educated today than they were in the times of mastodon hunts. We have science to explain things like storms and draught and earthquakes. We are no longer superstitious and ignorant. I have concluded that there must have been solid science behind Pat Robertson's assertion that Hurricane Katrina was sent by God to punish the people of New Orleans for not sending in enough money to _The 700 Club_ and other transgressions. Or that two hundred thousand people were killed in Haiti for similar reasons. If only the sinners had listened. If only they had cable. If only they had degrees from Liberty or Bob Jones University.

I got sidetracked. Forgive me. I was explaining how religion came to be. Religion is all about making imaginary causal connections. It is also about making sense out of tragedies and disasters that don't appear to make sense or be at all fair, and finding a way to control what is seemingly beyond our control. Things like Saber-tooth tigers, comets, and hurricanes. Early religions deified powerful animals. Lions, snakes, bears, tigers, eagles, and elephants. Please note that in all of recorded and unrecorded human history, there was not a single instance of peacock worship—until recently, with the inexplicable popularity of Donald Trump. I say inexplicable, but some of the worshipers are easy to understand because they are insufferable sycophants who will worship any asshole with lots of money. It's the rest of them, the ones who tuned into _Larry King_ when Donald was talking about his Obama birth certificate investigators in Hawaii and taking the oil form the Middle East by force, who mystify me.

As the human race became more sophisticated, our ancestors moved away from animal worship and began to worship things. The most popular inanimate thing was the sun. Why do you suppose that was? Do I see any hands? Let's see if we can figure this one out without looking at Wikipedia. Nighttime and darkness is:

**(a)** a fun time to engage in kinky sex;

**(b)** not a big problem if you have night vision goggles;

**(c)** a scary time when a lot of bad things can happen;

**(d)** all of the above.

It's hard to know what's out there hiding in the dark. But if you can make it through the night, the sun will come up and chase the darkness away. Light is a wonderful thing. You can see tigers in the distance. The sun brings forth the gift of light and light is what permits life to flourish. Light is good. Darkness is bad. And there you pretty much have the origin of the notion that the good guys wear white hats and bad guys wear black ones—Batman and Lady GaGa notwithstanding.

That's pretty much everything you need to know about history of ancient religions that worship nonhuman type Gods and the origin of the televangelists.

**The Modern Era: Gods with Humanity**

This brings me to some modern gods with arms and legs and heads. Gods that look and act more like us. Gods you can sink your teeth into, rather than the other way around. You see, eventually humans wised up and realized that worshiping animals, planets, and stars _might not actually be working._ There was no way to tell if it was really true. Let me repeat that in case you read it too fast:

There was no way to tell if it was really true.

You need to think about that concept for at least... the rest of your life. And certainly before you give your money to a guy with a pompadour that looks like it is held in the air with Krazy Glue.

At some point, enlightened people came to the conclusion that the Sun God and the Bear God were all silly stuff that somebody made up. Can you imagine? Nobody could demonstrate or ever verify that sacrificing a virgin to the Sun God _really appeased a Sun God._ The sun didn't really seem to care one way or the other. And—this part will shock you—there were those who concluded that it was all a big scam being perpetrated by shamans and high priests, who were getting rich pocketing the sacrifice contributions for themselves, building fancy temples that they worked and lived in, buying the most expensive chariots with Boca Rotan leather upholstery, and telling people what to do and how to live so as not to piss off Ra the Sun God.

This epiphany probably came to an "outside the box" guy who watched a clever Sun God priest demonstrating his influence with the Sun God by making everyone get up every morning before sunrise and observe him bow down to the east and then raise his hands to the sky while he chanted, "Cum hoc, com hoc." Shamans always like to use a language that hardly anybody understands—sort of like the Latin Mass (I speak of the ones in the Roman Catholic Church, not the good people of South America) of today. Nobody knew what in the hell he was talking about, but it sounded impressive. And every day, the Sun seemed to rise on his command. Like clockwork.

The people were in awe and paid him a huge stipend to keep Ra happy and the sun coming up. But it came to pass (I can't help it. At times like this I slip into Bible-speak) that this one fellow asked why the priest couldn't get Ra to just stay up _all the time._ The priest explained that Ra needed to descend into the underworld at night and fight bad gods. To which the guy responded, "Oh."

The unfortunately curious questioner was subsequently chosen to be sacrificed.

Then, one day, the high priest was caught sodomizing a faithful underage devotee at sunrise and the sun came up while he was otherwise preoccupied. The people began to put two and two together. Ra and his high priest were history. The high priest went on to a successful career selling used chariots. But the lesson to be learned, as George W. Bush would put it so eloquently thousands of years later, "Fool me once, shame on—shame on you. Fool me—you can't get fooled again."

Religion and belief in gods that control human events eventually evolved into more sophisticated belief systems. Hinduism, the oldest recorded "modern" religion, for example, has more gods than you can possibly imagine. Big ones, small ones, short ones, fat ones, half-human/half-elephant ones, monkey-human gods, gods that could and would kill you on a whim, gods that would forgive you, creator gods, destroyer gods, avatars (where did you think James Cameron got the idea?) that were incarnations of gods on earth... gods for just about every human emotion and situation. It's all very confusing and the last thing I want to do is confuse you. Or be critical in any way of Hinduism. It is a rich and beautiful religious culture.

This religion also just happened to give the world the notion of the caste system, making discrimination and oppression officially sanctioned by the gods. The highest caste in Hinduism are the Brahmins (back when Hinduism first began, they were priests. There's a shocker) and the Kshatriyas (kings, warriors, and government officials). When you get to the bottom, there are the Harijans, popularly referred to as the "untouchables." They're called untouchables because they work the dirtiest and crappiest jobs such as cleaning toilets and gutters. Harijans are subject to rules of segregation and, as you might imagine, lived then and still live now extremely impoverished lives. Persons of higher castes do not go near them, and if a Kshatriyas comes into physical or social contact with an untouchable, the Kshatriyas is considered to have contracted the equivalent of cooties and has to bathe to rid himself of the disgusting ickiness.

The ancient aphorism "shit rolls downhill" even developed among the Harijans, who designated sub-sub-castes. The Dhobi, for example would not go near the Bhangis, who were described as outcasts even among outcasts.

Interestingly, the lower the caste, the darker their skin seemed to be, a tradition that carried over through laws, customs, and tradition to the twentieth century in America. I mention this social convention of Hinduism because Hinduism had a very specific doctrine (actually, it was a divinely-mandated requirement) to explain why the Harijans had to take it, not complain, continue to shovel shit for the Kshatriyas, not even think about coming home with higher-caste girls, and be content with their lot in life.

It involved the notion of Karma. You get what you deserve. If you live a good life, do your job, and don't complain about it, in the next life you will be reincarnated into a higher caste and you will have somebody who will shovel _your_ shit. And if you do really well at knowing your place and staying at it without complaining and never daring to drink out of Kshatriyas water fountains, eventually you would reach nirvana and get to listen to cool music. This was the process by which all men were allowed to move up the caste system if they were patient and obedient.

In the meantime: "You missed a taint stain over in the corner, you untouchable scumbag."

Now, I can hear the nattering nabobs chanting a chorus of, "Bullshit, bullshit, nobody has any proof that people were actually reincarnated and came back to own a chain of Colonel Patel's Tandoori Chicken restaurants and drive a BMW 7 series. I can't believe anybody would be gullible enough to believe stuff there isn't the slightest evidence to believe. What a bunch of primitives! This was just a way of giving false hope to the downtrodden and keeping them in their place. It's really reprehensible and disgusting."

That is what the hardened cynics would say. The politically-correct professor of comparative religions, however, would simply describe the history and doctrines of the Hindu religion and point out how rich and thoughtful it all is. It is almost always improper to criticize and fail to show respect for other cultures and different beliefs.

Take the Aztecs. The Aztecs lived in Mexico and dominated the culture there between 1300 and 1600. They worshipped almost as many gods as the Hindus. Here is how a leading Aztec website describes them:

" _The Aztec religion is composed of an incredibly complicated, yet interesting, set of beliefs. Filled with stories of human sacrifices and demanding Aztec gods and goddesses, Aztecs have left behind a legacy that will be studied and marveled for years to come."_

Here is part of that _marvelous_ legacy. The Aztecs believed they owed a blood-debt to their gods. Authorities on the Aztecs have estimated that they sacrificed up to twenty thousand people a year. And they were very creative about it, because their gods were apparently very demanding and always hungry. The citizens chosen to be sacrificed were literally believed to be food for the gods. Seasoning was apparently not that important, but the method of preparation was.

For example, the best and most dramatic sacrifices involved ripping out a human heart using a technique that kept the heart beating while it was held aloft and offered up as a tasty dessert for the gods. The screams of the still-alive sacrificial snack people were probably thought to be screams of joy at the honor of being offered up as an after-dinner taste treat to the divine. It's hard to know for sure. Post-sacrifice interviews were hard to come by. Drowning, burning, target practice with arrows, torture, and mutilations were also popular. But open-heart sacrifice was always a crowd favorite.

There are two conclusions we can fairly draw about the necessity for this ritual:

**1.** It was absolutely a requirement demanded by real gods who would look upon the Aztecs with disfavor if they did not fork over human hearts. OR

**2.** We should be somewhat skeptical of the existence of the Aztec gods and the actual divine necessity for this ritual. Because, just as it was difficult to get an interview from the virgin whose heart was ripped out post-surgery, it was also difficult to get the gods to sit for an interview or debriefing of any kind. They were shy. Sort of like the Tooth Fairy, who never seems to be there in the morning to talk about the deflated value of that dollar she left under the pillow. The Angel Moroni, who gave the gold tablets to Joseph Smith and authorized him to have sex with scores of women, also mysteriously disappeared and has not been heard from by anyone since. Strange, don't you think?

Modern people don't believe in such silly primitive things as invisible, hungry gods that have no evidentiary basis in reality. Modern people realize that the whole thing about needing to obey strange rules and rituals was _made up by people!_ The Spanish were the first modern people to find out about the Aztec horrors when they conquered the New World and immediately exposed their primitive and barbaric ways. (In case you are wondering who "their" refers to, I was being clever.) That happened around the same time as the Spanish Inquisition, which involved paying respect to a _real_ Christian god. By torturing and killing people. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

All of this raises an interesting question. If gods don't give post-event interviews, how do humans find out what they are thinking? How do humans know who to sacrifice or what day of the week is a good day to buy those back-to-school supplies and avoid being stoned? (Hint: It is probably best to avoid shopping on Sunday near _Lynchburg_ —is that a scary name for a town that is filled with religious fanatics, or what?—Virginia, home of Jerry Falwell's Liberty University.)

The only _possible_ answer to this thorny conundrum is that that the gods speak to only few select people and it is _those_ people who are entrusted with telling the rest of us what to do. Like Congresswoman Michelle Bachman, who _did_ give lots of interviews and informed us that God told her to run for president. God also apparently told quite a few other Evangelical candidates to run, including an idiot named Herman Cain—of 999 fame (rumor has it that Herman briefly thought about 666, but there were certain issues with that number)—who made time to listen to celestial political advice in between chasing blondes, making pizza, and perfecting the art form of looking into a TV camera and making ignorance seem like a virtue.

Anyway, none of the Evangelical candidates won. So, apparently, God changes his mind from time to time. Just like he did with the dinosaurs and multitudes of other creatures that did not seem to catch on the skill of thinking clearly. That's really the only explanation that makes sense.

**Low-Hanging Rotten Fruit and Cherry Picking**

Before we go any further, I need to set some rules for evaluating modern religious beliefs and texts. I don't want to seem in any way unfair. All of them admit that the scribes who wrote down their god's (or gods') words were very human. (With the possible exception of the enormously amusing philandering founder of Mormonism, Joseph Smith, who said he found the texts already written on gold tablets handed over to him personally by the Angel Macaroni.) The scribes were mere vessels into which God poured forth dictation. That is what a scribe does. He acts as a vessel. He takes dictation.

Moses and Mohammed (the Mos) come to mind. _Yo, Mo, take a letter to the people._ The prophets basically took down God's orders and spread the word. Sometimes they used big, ugly swords to spread the word. Mohammed was a fan of this technique. So was Moses. Moses wasn't the author of the Ten Commandments and Mohammed didn't claim to be the author of the Koran. They just wrote stuff down and passed it on. There really isn't any argument about this between religious folks. Except when you get to Jesus. But he wasn't really claiming to be a prophet. And he didn't write anything down. He was claiming to be the real deal.

Okay, so what was written down (and rewritten and translated into god knows how many languages and edited about a jillion times, but forget that for a minute) that _one true version, assuming we could find it and agree on its authenticity, was THE WORD OF GOD._ (I tried to figure out a way to have thunder and scary music spring out at you when you read that phrase, but I am told by my editor that the technology is not yet available. Bolding and underlining was the best I could do.)

Now, putting the matter of the dinosaurs aside for the moment, it is safe to assume that when God has a scribe take pen to paper, or whatever He does, He does not make typos, or tell us partial truths. It is doubtful that He is a practical joker. He tells the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. It isn't like He wants us to obey _some_ of the Commandments. There aren't any mistakes that the editors overlooked in the Bible. It's the Bible. He meant what He said and He said what He meant and God knows of what He speaks one hundred percent. (See _Horton Hears a Who.)_

Therefore, men of faith who believe the Bible is the real deal _necessarily have to defend all of it._ They can't slide past the parts that may seem extreme. Like stoning Sabbath-breakers, adulterers, and homosexuals. It's in there and God said to do it, goddamn it. Ergo, no cherry-picking allowed. They have to defend the tough parts. They can't just tell us about the good, kind and sweet parts.

There are lots of good parts in every religious text ever written. Even the Aztecs wrote good parts. But attention, men of the cloth! You can't do a flyby at thirty thousand feet over the unpleasant parts. Because it's all _THE WORD OF GOD._ (This time I would like you to imagine that phrase being spoken by a guy with a thunderous voice echoing off the Grand Canyon walls.)

Is there anything unclear or unfair about that? Those are the rules. You guys and God made them, and you have to abide by them. Hence the rule against cherry-picking to defend your position.

I, on the other hand, as an observer who is trying to figure out if all this all this stuff makes any sense, can play by the "low-hanging rotten fruit" rule. I have a distinct advantage, it would seem. As any first-year logic student will tell you, a statement that starts out with "all" and ends with something like "this stuff is true" can be proved negative in its entirety by simply proving _one_ thing is not true.

Here is an example: all politicians who say God instructed them to run for president are telling the truth. In order for that statement to be false, it is only necessary to prove that one of them (the list of candidates chosen by God is too long to include here) is a pandering, lying sack of shit. That would prove that the statement that included the word "all" was false. It only takes one time when it isn't true to make the "all" assertion not true.

I hope I'm not going too fast.

I, on the other hand, as one of the as of yet-unconverted and unconvinced (or, as Anne Coulter would put it, "the unperfected") can reach up for all the rotten fruit I can gather to prove conclusively that the tree is a rotten fruit-producer. If the god(s) planted it, then it necessarily must not yield rotten fruit. The Bible can't be good in parts and an abomination in other parts. God is perfect. His dictated words must also be perfect. Those are the rules.

I didn't make them but I am absolutely delighted to play by them. Let's play.

**The Honest-to-God God**

This brings us to the original Chosen People. The pre-Jesus BCE Jews. The first Jew was Abraham, who, at 75, made a sacred covenant with God and agreed to abide by His rules and live a good life. God agreed that Abraham would have a good life if he stayed obedient and loyal. Abraham kept his end of the covenant in every respect. And, yes, I am going to tell you about the incident on Mount Moriah with Isaac. I am also going to tell you that when I learned about it as a boy of about ten, I didn't get it. I still don't. Or maybe I do, but I am damn sure that I don't get it the way they wanted me to.

That story, more than any other horror that God allowed and perpetrated later—and there were plenty of them—chased me away from the Bible. I took it personally. I wondered about my own father and what _he would do if he heard the voice._ The story of Abraham and Isaac, more than any other, convinced me that the God of the Old Testament was not all he was cracked up to be. I could almost say the Bible gave me direction in life. It just wasn't the direction they had in mind. But before I get to the incident on the mountain, I want to direct your attention to a glossed-over subplot in the story of Abraham. This is a little vignette that doesn't get much attention or interpretation.

But before I do _that..._ I would like to tell you the methodology I use to interpret Scripture. It is a combination of Occam's razor and _Horton Hears a Who._ Occam's razor is the principle of reason, science, and logic that says that in most cases, the simplest explanation of an event turns out to be the correct one. Note that it says in _most cases._ It is always possible that when you hear hoof beats in Central Park, they are being made by hippos, and I am open to that possibility—but most of the time, it's going to be a horse.

Taking only a slight detour: there is a famous video taken of Big Foot in Oregon by a professional Big Foot hunter (first clue) named Roger Patterson, showing what looks suspiciously like a guy in a stupid-looking gorilla suit walking across a wooded field. I should tell you that I very much want Big Foot to be out there. Honestly. It would be so cool. Anyway, the first time I saw it, I started laughing. I couldn't help it. It looked so obviously like a guy in a gorilla suit that I could not believe the media was giving it air time. Then I read a biomechanical analysis of the gait of the creature done by a world famous biomechanical anthropologist. Roger Patterson, by the way, said that he didn't remember whether he shot the film in 16 fps or 24 fps.

Well, the biomechanical anthropologist guy said that if it was shot in 16 fps, it was a guy in a gorilla suit. If it was shot in 24 fps, it was the real deal because nobody could possibly fake such a gait. He spent a lot of time explaining why and lost me. There was math and other impressive stuff. It doesn't matter.

Occam's razor leads me to the conclusion that the biomechanical anthropologist was an idiot with too much time on his hands. I suppose we could also consider the possibility that the film was shot on the planet Zontar by Zontarians, and that they have phony Big Foot hunters, too. But the simplest explanation was... you guessed it... a clown in a gorilla suit. This, I might add, proved to be correct, because Roger Patterson came clean on his deathbed and confessed.

My second interpretive tool in understanding Scripture comes from Horton the Elephant, who said, "I meant what I said and I said what I meant and an elephant's faithful one hundred percent."

God dictated the Bible. I am going to side with the Evangelicals here. They have it right. God said exactly what He meant. He wasn't James Joyce or Joseph Conrad. He was/is God and He didn't mince words or talk to us in riddles. He said what He goddamn well meant. If these are allegories, then it's a whole different ball game. You Scripture literalist guys cannot have it both ways.

Meanwhile, back at the Bible... Abraham settled his family in hostile territory in the land of the Philistines. The Philistine king's name was Abimelech (pronounced "impossibly"). One day, Abraham told a white lie to the king by saying that his wife Sarah was really his sister. It doesn't matter why. Abimelech was smitten and decided he wanted to have her in the "Biblical" sense. He had no idea that Sarah was really the wife of a very important prophet of God.

So, God comes to King Abimelech and says (exact words): "Behold, you are a dead man because of the woman whom you have taken, for she is married,"

King Abimelech responds (paraphrase): "Hold on, dude. I haven't slept with her, I didn't know she was Abe's wife, and he specifically told me she was his sister. For Christ's sake, I'm as innocent as a newborn lamb. Really, I swear to God. Give me a break, will you?"

God responds (exact words): "Now restore the man's wife, for he is a prophet, and he will pray for you and you will live. But if you do not restore her, know that you shall surely die, you _and all who are yours."_ (Emphasis added by me but I'm sure there was plenty of emphasis by God.)

Here are my questions:

Was that threat against King Abimelech and his children really necessary? Hadn't he already explained that it was an innocent mistake? God already knew that. He was God, for God's sake. He knows everything! And once again (and again and again), what did King Abimelech's children have to do with it? Somebody, anybody, explain that one to me. Take a shot. Go ahead.

If you took God's threat and updated the lingo to write dialogue for a drug-dealing thug, would it or would it not ring true? _Yo, dude, you fuck with mah main man's bitch an' I will go biblical on you and yo' kids!_

What is the difference?

It turns out that threatening, terrorizing, and actually killing innocent children is a recurring theme in the Old Testament. It's what the Old Testament God does. Terror and the omnipresent threat of terror is why He is so feared. God-fearing people had good reason be afraid.

This brings us to the story of Abraham and Isaac. Out of the blue, one day God said, "Take now your son, your only son, whom you love, Isaac, and go to the mountains in Moriah and offer him there to me as a burnt offering."

You know how the story ends. I've never felt good about concluding that it was a happy ending. I saw it as a horror perpetrated on a little boy whose father was a coward. The fact that the Almighty decided He was just testing Abraham gave me little comfort when I read it the first time.

I submit it was a continuation of celestial gangsta behavior. It was cruel. It was an abomination and God deserved to have his 00 license to kill and terrorize revoked. This God, I submit, was evil incarnate. I think He had been hanging around with Satan. Do you know what a burnt offering is? It is the sacrifice of a living thing by _burning it to death._ That is not the most pleasant way to die. It makes the Aztec open-heart surgery without anesthetic look like a walk in the park. Little Isaac knew what that was all about. He had seen it done before with animals. He had heard the screams of the lambs. And he had plenty of time to think about it as his father gathered wood and took him up the mountain. God was ordering his father to burn him to death.

Why?

Yes, I know about the test thing and faith. It is the kind of test our hypothetical drug lord might think of. But you know what? I doubt that there is a murdering psychopathic megalomaniac drug lord quite as taken with his own disgusting capacity to exercise power as God was in this horrific episode. Did you happen to note how God rubbed salt in the festering emotional wound he opened as he gave the command? "Take your son, _your only son, who you love... "_ and burn him to death to show that you love me more than him.

How would you feel about the following scene in a movie: a gang leader tests a young would-be gang member. The boy has a pit bull puppy. He loves it dearly. It is what gives this boy his humanity. The gang leader says he can be in the gang if he burns his puppy to death in front of the rest of the gang. He has to do it. The little boy fights back tears. But he is terrified of the gang leader. So he pours gasoline on the puppy. He lights a match... and at the last second, the gang leader tells him he passed the test. He doesn't have to do it. Everyone in the gang has a good laugh.

Would you feel warm and fuzzy about that gang leader? Would you think he was merciful? Or would you be quietly hoping that in the next scene that somebody poured gasoline on him and lit a match, or put a bullet between his eyes?

Here are some of the Evangelical takes on the story:

_God was not encouraging Abraham to do anything wrong. Au contraire_. God was testing him to see if he would do the righteous thing, i.e. obey the Lord without hesitation.

_God never intended have Abraham go through with the act of sacrificing his child._ In point of fact, God saved the boy from being sacrificed proving that he is a merciful and loving God.

_God has the right to kill anyone he chooses._ If He had decided in his infinite wisdom to take Isaac's life, he would have been right to do so. God has his reasons and it is not for us to judge the Almighty.

Sorry, but I'm going with Occam's razor on this one. God was flexing his muscle, because nothing was more important to this God than being obeyed and feared. It's really that simple. He meant what he said and he said what he meant. Nothing more and nothing less. That story pisses me off more every time I think about it.

What, I wonder, would have happened if Abraham had said, "No, God. I will not kill my son. I love him more than life. Take me if you must, but my son will not die by my hands"? Would God have taken Isaac anyway? Would God kill a child to make a point?

Yes, he would. Without hesitation. Without remorse or delusions of morality. Again and again and again. I direct your attention to the story of Job, a man who the Bible describes as blameless, upright, God-fearing, and always turning away from evil. He was about as wonderful a human as God could have ever expected to have created. Having lived a righteous life, he had been blessed with many slaves, sheep, camels, oxen and donkeys. Yes, I did say, "blessed with many slaves." Actually, that's what the Bible says. Best of all, he had seven sons and three daughters whom he loved dearly.

One day Satan comes to God and lays down what can only be fairly characterized as a celestial testosterone challenge.

Satan had been cruising around the earth and God was... well, bragging about some of his accomplishments. "Have you considered my servant Job?" said God. "For there is no one like him on earth, a blameless and upright man, fearing God and turning away from evil." These, I need to point out, were God's _exact_ words. A man could not get a better recommendation than God gave Job.

Satan—I have always wondered why God didn't simply kick Satan's teeth down his throat and that would have been the end of that—a notorious tempter of men was also, it seems, able to bait God. So he suggested a kind of wager. What, Satan wondered out loud, would have happened to all Job's wonderful faith in God if things got rough for him? Would Job remain loyal to God if He threw a little unjust, inexplicable, and totally undeserved calamity into the equation?

God, never being one to turn the other cheek on a good bet, rose for the bait like a trout after a June-bug and told Satan to just watch and see what happened. In rapid succession, God orchestrated the following events: the Sabeans, a group of marauding desert hooligans, attacked Job's ranch, stole most of his oxen and donkeys. Then they slaughtered some of his slaves. Immediately thereafter, fire fell from the sky and burned up all of Job's sheep and most of the remaining slaves. While this was going on, the Chaldeans stole all of Job's camels and put the remaining slaves to the sword. Before Job could even catch his breath from this bad news or file an insurance claim, he learned that a tornado had suddenly swept across the desert and knocked down his house, crushing all of his children. As if things were not bad enough, the next day Job woke up with boils on his feet and head.

The rest of the Book of Job, as I'm sure you know, is essentially philosophical speculation regarding the pesky question of theodicy. Why is there evil? Why do bad things happen to good people, to people who wouldn't go anywhere near a forbidden apple? Job, as you might imagine, was every bit as confused as young Isaac had been. Finally, exasperated by the all of the dead philosophical ends, Job dares to challenge God to explain. And God says:

Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Have you entered the storehouses of the snow? Or have you seen the storehouses of the hail, which I have reserved for the day of war and battle? Who has cleft a channel for the flood, or a way for the thunderbolt? Do you give the horse his might? Do you cloth his neck with a main?

In other words, God's answer to the mystery of all mysteries, the question of all questions the very meaning of life, suffering, death, and injustice is—are you ready?—God acts in mysterious and horrible ways _because he can._ That's it. It's none of Job's business. God does what he does because he feels like it!

Oh. Of course. Job should get down on his knees and apologize for asking. And this is exactly what he did. But guess what? God gave him back twice as many camels, a bunch of new donkeys, a lot of oxen, and, yes, seven replacement sons, and three replacement daughters.

I get it. I really do. And I love a happy ending where everything works out for the best and people get through life's challenges and do the right thing and get to live happily ever after in this, the best of all possible worlds. But here is my question: what did Job's _children_ —the innocent ones God murdered because of a bet, a goddamn fucking bet... _with evil incarnate_... those children. What in the hell did _they_ have to do with it? Anybody want to step up to the plate? Could anyone possibly come up with a better law school teaching example of malice aforethought?

What should we call someone who wagers with children's lives in an ego contest? Is there even a word? The only one I can think of is "evil." Despicable, psychopathic, narcissistic, unexplainable evil.

Job had faith. While he was being faithful, his children were being slaughtered. God was acting _mysteriously._ That's what he does. You just have to have faith in his mysteriousness. Maybe the aphorism "There are none so blind as those who will not see" should be amended to state simply, "There are none as blind and stupid as the faithful."

Like the faithful who send money to the prosperity church charlatans and see it as an investment.

What judgment would Occam's razor lead us to about God, his bets with the devil, and the murders of innocent children? Find me the weighty and thoughtful Biblical analysis that talks about the murder of Job's seven sons and three daughters. I have yet to find a single man of God who has ever dared address the issue. Have any of you pontificating hypocrites even dared to think about it? Many of you have thoughtful things to say about Job. But his dead children, for some reason, don't require any thought at all. I want to attend the Sunday sermon that preaches about the merciful God of Moses and Jesus and Job's children. There's a theme that might not pack the House of the Lord.

Let's move on, because it gets worse. Much worse. The descendants of Adam wandered around in the desert for quite some time and managed to really piss God off again and it rained big time. Noah and the ark sailed around for a while and finally ran aground when God tired of all that rain. Let's fast-forward to Egypt, Moses, and the Pharaoh. You should save time and see the movie with Charlton Heston as Moses, who went on to become president of the National Rifle Association—Charlton Heston, not Moses.

Here's what happened. All of the Jews were captured and enslaved by Pharaoh and made to build monuments under terrible conditions. After a couple of hundred years, God sighed, became bored watching all that stonecutting, and decided to free them. He recruited Moses to lead the Jews out of Egypt. But it wasn't going to be easy. Pharaoh was as stubborn as they come. He had a lot of money tied up in Jews and he wasn't amused or impressed by the old staff-into-snake trick. Locusts didn't get to him either. And so on with frogs, lice, flies, and jock-itch. So, to punish Pharaoh and to show him that God wasn't screwing around, God slaughtered _every_ firstborn male in Egypt. He killed fathers, teenagers, grandfathers, and babies. He even killed the firstborn of cows. Yes _cows,_ for Christ's sake!

At that point, Pharaoh finally said, " _No más,"_ (but probably in Egyptian) and let His people go, doubled-crossed God, and found out that Egyptians didn't swim real well.

Here is the Biblical horror that we see repeated over and over in the Old Testament: God, slaughtering or ordering the future Israelites to slaughter, children. Babies.

And here is my question: what did the babies have to do with it?

I understand kicking the living shit out of Pharaoh and his henchmen. I really do. Slavery is wrong. (Well, I _thought_ it was, but after reading more of the Old Testament, I could be very mistaken about that, because it appears there was nothing wrong with the Jews owning them.) Pharaoh had free will and chose to do bad things. Plus, he bowed down to cat statues and other silly idols. He gets what he gets and he should take it like a man. I also understand making the Jews wander in the desert and get lost for all those years for the incident with the golden calf. But what, _in God's name,_ did the babies have to do with all this? Because unless you can answer that one, I am about ready to do a compare and contrast with the Aztecs.

Babies cannot possibly be viewed as guilty of anything in this or any other universe. No room for argument on that one. Unless you are a psychopathic baby-killer. This is a problem that I am going to forcibly stuff down your throat for a while, so stick around or don't stick around—but the epistemological issue is still going to be there and if any one of you answers me with the explanation that _God works in mysterious ways and it is all part of the mysterious plan and we are just too dumb and lowly to understand it, but we need to have faith that the babies died for a good cause,_ I will personally punch you right in your goddamn mouth and claim that I am acting in mysterious ways—and if you question me about it, I will hit you again.

Sorry. I got carried away. But it would seem to be a fair response.

The Jews left Egypt and wandered around the desert again (this was a recurring theme) for a long time. Now, a lot of the Old Testament is about relationships between people and relationships between people and their god. And an awful lot of it is about war and real estate. Or war _for_ real estate, to be more precise. The mantra then, as it is today, was location, location, location. The location the Chosen People wanted for their own was Israel. The land of milk and honey. No oil, but oil was something that spoiled the taste of milk and honey back then. It wouldn't be worth big bucks until much later. Who knew? The problem the Jews of olden days faced was that, while they were building pyramids and sphinxes for a couple of hundred years, other people took up residency in the land they thought rightfully—and Biblically—belonged to them. There were Kenites, Kenizzites, Kadmonites, Hittites, Perizzites, Rephaites, Amorites, Canaanites, Girgashites, and Jebusites. These people were not thrilled with the Jews and their Biblical quit-claim to the Promised Land. So, with God's help, all hell broke loose.

In this part of the Bible, it would seem that God's slaughter of innocents has no bounds. And let me be perfectly clear about this: I am not criticizing God for _letting_ innocents suffer. That's another problem for another chapter. A huge one, to be sure, but I will let Him slide on that one for now. And I don't even want to get into why He let Idi Amin, who killed millions, sometimes participating in the torture of his victims and even dined on some of them, live a long and glorious retirement life in Saudi Arabia with the protection of the Saudi Arabian rulers, while He sat by and lets babies be slaughtered _en masse_ in Rwanda.

I'm referring here to the children He (God, not Idi Amin—but there are personality similarities) _personally_ ordered slaughtered. Because I want to be fair and give Him the benefit of the doubt on the other thing with Idi Amin. Maybe I don't know the whole story. Maybe Idi Amin was framed or something. I won't bother with that now. Because we all know that while it may be terribly wrong to sit on the sidelines and watch a monster commit an evil act, there is a difference between those who watch evil happen and those who aid and abet and or give the orders.

This brings me to the subject of what Biblical scholars call "Yahweh War." What a term. _Yahweh War._ There were lots of them. Wars, not Yahwehs. There was only one Yahweh. He was the one who terrorized Isaac and killed Job's children to make a point. When the Jews were wandering around lost in the desert, they encountered lots of people who were living there and who (a) didn't feel like moving, (b) were sometimes impolite, and (c) could be irrationally hostile and stubborn about the whole Yahweh wants-you-to-move concept. They thought it was bullshit. Make no mistake, many of them were scruffy desert hooligans. And some of them could accurately be called _Philistines_ —because they were.

Well, it turns out to be one thing to let the Chosen People wander around the desert for forty years without a map or GPS or any kind of directions like "Go west," which probably would have done the trick. It's another thing when people refuse to leave the land they have lived in for hundreds of years and get in the Chosen People's way.

Before I go any farther down this road, I will concede for the sake of argument that the Hittites and the Amorites, the Canaanites and the Perizzites, the Hivites and the Jebusites were probably all very nasty people. They worshipped other gods and idols, and refused to bow down to Yahweh. They sacrificed innocent animals and people to their silly gods. And I'm sure they had bad hygiene and engaged in kinky sex. They were uneducated and stubborn and probably violated many of God's Ten Commandments that He never bothered to tell them about because they were only previewed to the Jews. These goyim desert dwellers were not nice people. Whatever. I'll concede it. I won't waste my time doing a compare and contrast with the Old Testament Jews. I could, but I won't.

This holiest of all wars started with the conquest of Canaan, the real estate promised by God to the descendants of Abraham. God's instructions to Moses on the way he was to conduct war were very specific:

" _When the Lord God brings you into the land you are entering to possess and drives out before you many nations... then you must destroy them totally and show them no mercy. In the cities of these peoples that the LORD your God is giving you for an inheritance, you shall save alive nothing that breathes, but you shall devote them to complete destruction, the Hittites and the Amorites, the Canaanites and the Perizzites, the Hivites and the Jebusites, as the LORD your God has commanded."_ (Deut. 20:16-17)

This is exactly what they did. They were following orders. Just in case you glossed over some of it, let me point out the phrases "complete destruction," "save alive nothing that breathes," and, of course, "show them no mercy." And, just in case you are going to say, "Well, God is sort of human, maybe he was having a bad day or shanked a few wedges or something and just lost his temper," let me point out what happened in chapter 31 of Numbers.

The Midianites were a group of Canaan-dwelling people who worshiped other gods, not having yet been informed that they were on the wrong team. Why they weren't informed of their mistake is... well... _a mystery._ They should have known better, I guess. Anyway, here were God's instructions to Moses, which he relayed to his soldiers, regarding what should be done to teach them a lesson they would never forget.

" _Take full vengeance on the Midianites... Now therefore, kill every male among the little ones, and kill every woman who has known man intimately, by lying with a man, but all the girls who have not known man intimately, spare for yourselves."_

Is that clear? Kill babies, kill mothers, and keep the virgins to share amongst yourselves. This was known in the Bible as "booty." I'm not making that up. "Booty," it turns out, is a Biblical term. That's where it comes from. It's one of God's words. And it turns out that God told them very specifically how to divide the booty—animal and human—among the warriors who had performed so well in the slaughtering festivities. And then God demanded to be cut in on the spoils for facilitating and setting the whole caper up. It was called a "tax for the lord"—really (Numbers 25-30)—and He instructed Moses on how many cattle, donkeys, and sheep were to be burnt (blackened mutton was apparently one of God's favorite midnight snacks) as a sacrifice to God.

In God's defense, all of this happened in days that predated the Geneva Convention.

Now, before I go any further, go back and read those quotes of God's marching orders again. Is any part of them ambiguous? Maybe the "known a man intimately" stuff. I suppose that could mean if he shared stories about cheating on his SATs, or coloring his hair, but I really do think it means if they were ever playing hide the Hebrew National salami. And I think the "kill every male among the little ones" does not likely refer to midgets or otherwise vertically-challenged desert-dwellers. I think it is fair to conclude He is talking about children. Babies. And the "show them no mercy" seems pretty clear. You can almost hear him saying to Moses, who is thinking about sparing a little two-year-old boy who looks up at him with pleading eyes, "Moses. Goddamn it! What part of 'show them no mercy' or 'kill every male among the little ones' was unclear to you? They breathe, don't they? And don't forget the donkeys!"

I really think a Hortonian interpretation is appropriate here. Strict constructionism is the way to go. I don't think he was just kidding around.

Let's pause here for a minute. I would wager that not many churchgoing people of the Evangelical persuasion have ever heard a sermon where the minister/reverend/priest quotes from _these_ parts of the Bible. The difficult parts always seem to get glossed over. As a matter of fact, it would have been difficult to get anyone to discuss them before the noted evolutionary biologist, Richard Dawkins, brought such things to our attention by observing that the God of the Old Testament was "... a vindictive, bloodthirsty ethnic cleanser; a misogynistic, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously malevolent bully." Christopher Hitchens said even pithier and worse things but I won't quote them here because I wouldn't want to offend anyone. Besides, Hitchens recently died very _mysteriously_ of esophageal cancer after a lifetime of drinking and smoking. Many Evangelicals are convinced he got exactly what he was asking for by saying unkind things about their religion and that it had nothing to do with drinking or smoking.

Well, all that atheistic harsh language could not go unchallenged. Just as David stood up to go slingshot-to-toe against Goliath while the rest of his men were cowering, even today it seems that God still has champions who will defend his actions with regard to genocide, sexual slavery, and slaughtering babies at the end of the sword. Turns out that those who do not understand God's—shall we say— _harsher_ marching orders have not spent enough time studying the Bible. There are scholars with deep reservoirs of faith who can explain it all by putting it in perspective. It all makes perfect and glorious sense, in those, the best of all possible days, if you simply accept a few little _a priori_ (that means you aren't allowed to ask any questions about anything important to the other side's argument... it's against the rules) assumptions.

Let me introduce you to Paul Copan, author of the latest (2011) hot Evangelical text, _Is God a Moral Monster?_ He is described as a Christian theologian, an analytic philosopher, and an apologist. He is a professor at the Palm Beach Atlantic University. To clarify, an analytic philosopher is a philosopher who analyses stuff, as opposed to a lowly philosopher like me who just pontificates out of his ass. An apologist is not somebody who goes around saying they are sorry all the time. Those people are called alcoholics and they apologize when they aren't hammered and are facing jail time for their third DWI. The rest of the time they are called drunks. No, an apologist is a special branch of Christian theology that attempts to _rationally_ defend Christianity (consisting of the Old Testament and the New Testament, i.e., the Bible) against perceived objections of other incorrect worldviews. They also spend a lot of time apologizing to God for the rest of us who do not share _their_ worldview and praying for our immortal souls. Say what you want about them, but there don't seem to be any hard feelings about people who don't see the light and make fun of them. They are convinced that we are just waiting to be "perfected" and it is their job to perfect us.

Which reminds me... a very religious and dear friend of mine, who is a devout Catholic and knows my views on such matters, once asked if I would mind if he prayed for me because he knew I was going in for some pesky open-heart surgery. We had a meeting of the minds and both agreed that it couldn't hurt. To be fair, though, I allowed another friend, who is a practicing Druid, to do a special nature dance in the nude. I came through the operation in splendid shape and both can claim partial credit. The Cleveland Clinic deserves some, too. Incidentally, I wasn't that worried about the surgery until a minister of some unidentifiable Christian flavor came to my pre-op bedside and asked if I wanted him to pray with me. I told him that there were indeed Doubting Thomases in the proverbial foxholes, as evidenced by the fact that there were six of us in pre-op waiting to get our chests cracked, and we had all decided to let the surgeons essentially kill us while they repaired our valves and arteries rather than just praying and having faith that we would get better. Then I offered to chat with him about Job's children. He didn't seem amused and wandered off to pray with someone who was more receptive and deserving. I'm not sure whether he had any kind words for me with the Big Guy. He looked pissed when he left.

What conclusion about the power of prayer could we have drawn if (a) the other guy who prayed hard had lived and I checked out, (b) I lived and the other guy died, (c) we both lived, or (d) we both died? Think of this a midterm exam on _cum hoc._ Your answer will be graded on neatness, originality, and should not be longer than one word that sounds like "nun."

Now, I suppose that it is fair to conclude that prayer is what saved me. My young son once reached a similar conclusion about my shark stick. We were going snorkeling one morning off the beach—we had a house on a little island in the Bahamas—and he asked me about the stick I always brought with me.

"Say, Dad, why do you always bring that stick out to the reefs?"

"It's my shark stick" I told him.

"Does it work?" he asked.

"Well, knucklehead, have you ever seen a shark anywhere around us when I am carrying it?"

He thought about that one for a couple of seconds and then observed, "True, but I've never seen a rhinoceros, either." I assured him that it also worked perfectly on rhinos.

Getting back to Professor Copan. He admirably did not shrink from crossing swords with Dawkins and Hitchens. Actually, it appears that they inspired him to write his book, even using a Dawkins quote for the title. To his credit, he presents the Dawkins–Hitchens godless, atheistic, and doomed-to-hell point of view fairly and in context. And he is a skillful apologist who presents well-thought-out explanations for his positions. So I could not wait to read his _apology._ I believe I started reading while my Kindle was still downloading. I wanted to really understand where he was coming and how he had pious gonads large enough to take on Dawkins and Hitchens. These guys are not lightweights.

But a soldier of God does not shrink from battles with giants. David, for example, was not the least bit intimidated by Goliath. He was quite a bit smaller, but much smarter than the big fellow, and he essentially brought the forerunner of a gun to knife fight. Good for David. Goliath was a moron who might have made a decent second-string offensive tackle. But he wasn't real swift when it came to battle tactics. His last words were reportedly, "Hey, that wasn't fair! Ow..."

Professor Copan addresses—nay _apologizes_ (I'll let you figure out which meaning of "apologizes" you think is appropriate)—for God's behavior in the battles for Canaan and Midian in four chapters of his book. It took four chapters because the explanation isn't real simple. I am going to give you some exact in-context quotes from Professor Copan. I will follow each quote with a semi-dignified response and then what I would imagine would be a well-thought-out retort from the professor. So we are going to have a kind of a hypothetical philosophical exchange. As always, I will strive to be unerringly fair.

HOWIE

Why did God order Moses to kill everything that breathes when Moses set off to conquer Canaan?

PROFESSOR COPAN

" _This is a tough question... Were the Canaanites That Wicked? According to the Biblical text Yahweh was willing to wait about 430 years because the sin of the Amorite '... has not yet reached its limit.' In other words, in Abraham's day, the time wasn't ripe for judgment on the Canaanites; the moment wasn't ripe for them to be driven out of the land to 'vomit them out.' Sodom and Gomorrah, on the other hand, were ready; not even ten righteous people could be found there.... Sometimes God simply gives up on nations, cities, or individuals when they've gone past a point of no return..."_ (1)

[After detailing some really bad stuff that went on in Canaan, including idolatry, kinky sex, kinky sex by Canaanite gods (including, but not limited to homosexuality and incest), the telling of bad stories about atrocities committed by imaginary Canaanite gods, ritual sacrifices to the wrong gods... the list goes on... Professor Copan tells us:]

" _Given this setting, it's no wonder that God didn't want the Israelites to associate with Canaanites and be led astray from obedience to the one true God... I'm not arguing that the Canaanites were the worst specimens of humanity that ever existed, nor am I arguing that the Canaanites won the immorality contest for the worst-behaved peoples in all the ancient Near East. That said, the evidence for profound moral corruption was abundant. God considered them ripe for divine judgment, which would be carried out in keeping with God's saving purposes in history."_

HOWIE

I'm sorry, did I read you correctly? Did you just use the phrase "ripe for divine judgment"? Holy mangled metaphor, Batman! Did you have an editor look at this puppy before you published it? Wouldn't rotten for divine judgment have worked better? Never mind. I think I understand. It makes almost perfect sense. I conceded all this earlier. Bad shit should always happen to bad people. I'm guessing that Idi Amin wasn't ripe yet. That explains it. Killing a million or so innocent people and cooking them doesn't hold a candle to idolatry. The theory of "ripeness" never occurred to me. I'm ready to move on.

_Except for one thing: what did the little children have to do with it? Were they exercising free will and doing unspeakable things with Baal?_ Were they corrupted beyond redemption at eighteen months old!? _(In all honesty, I may have raised my voice a tad at this point.) And what about the donkeys? Could the Israelites have been led astray by evil donkeys? Why did the children and the donkeys have to be slaughtered? Explain that one to me?_

PROFESSOR COPAN

(hypothetical response)

First of all, as you know full well, God works in mysterious ways. Secondly, you must not make the mistake of reading these seemingly unpleasant parts of the Bible too literally.

HOWIE

(as my head starts to explode)

What the fuck did you just say!? Not to take this stuff too literally? The Bible? The divinely-dictated word of God? "Kill every male among the little ones" doesn't mean kill every male among the little ones? Are you really going to tell me He was talking about evil leprechauns? And the donkeys? It was a term of art? Is that your explanation?

PROFESSOR COPAN

(hypothetically, taking a deep breath and sighing the way a third grade teacher does when she must be patient with a slow learner)

Calm down, please. It is well-known that some of the cities attacked by the Israelites were forts and may have been only occupied by combatants, and that the phrases you are referring to are Near East battle slogans that really mean kill only the warriors and leave everyone else alone. Sort of like when football players say, "I'm going to go medieval on you." They don't really mean it. It is just a phrase to get the troops ready for battle. And after the battle, when they claim to have killed everything that breathed, they are just speaking in hyperbole, the way warriors do.

[Note to the reader: he really does argue this position. I'm paraphrasing, because I am only allowed to quote two hundred and fifty words under the publisher's fair use guidelines and this one would take me over the limit but I am not making this up.]

HOWIE

I think I understand now. It's sort of a contra-positive Hortonian analysis. I did not mean what I said, and I did not say what I meant... you just have to trust me one hundred percent. I feel much better. Joshua was just... well... joshing. That's probably where the phrase comes from. And the part about God Himself giving the order?

PROFESSOR COPAN

(hypothetical response)

God was fluent in the battle lingo of the times. And sometimes he speaks in mysterious ways. Lighten up. Don't take all these commands about killing donkeys so literally.

And that, my friends, is how I would be throttled in a debate with Professor Copan. Armed with my new understanding of Biblical language and ancient Near East hyperbole, I intend to go back and re-read the Ten Commandments.

It is clear to me now that the one that says, "Thou shalt not steal," which seems pretty clear on its face, doesn't mean that at all. The way the phrase was used back in the day, it meant, thou shalt not steal _from people who worship the same God as you do._ Stealing from the heathens is perfectly acceptable—and even desirable. Same goes for murder. Pangloss would have understood. Thou shalt not commit adultery really means it depends on the situation, and if it's a hot Philistine babe, all bets are off.

And so on.

Okay, to be honest about it, I wasn't real impressed with Professor Copan's apology. I just can't accept it. It doesn't have the ring of sincerity. I want to be forgiving and understanding and all, but I sense a certain twisting around of things to get where he wants to get. I think he has a terrible case of the isms. I think he needs a secular exorcism. Or perhaps a crash course in circular reasoning.

I mentioned earlier that apology is a special branch of Christian theology that attempts to _rationally_ defend Christianity. Rationally means sensibly, logically, and reasonably. But it's a funny thing about how "rational," with just a little push over the edge and a few extra letters, can lead to the word "rationalize"—which means to attempt to justify behavior normally considered irrational or unacceptable by offering an _apparently_ reasonable explanation. And that is exactly what happens when you give your brain up and let it be taken over by an ism.

Copan went over a long time ago and I am afraid there is no saving him. I fear he is doomed to live inside a box for the rest of his life. I'm doing what I can to save him by sending him this book but I'm not optimistic.

I was so disappointed in Professor Copan's explanations that I went searching for some better ones. And it turns out that the very best thing ever published on this thorny problem combined the views of four of the world's leading Christian apologists. It is called _Show Them No Mercy: 4 Views on God and the Canaanite Genocide._ The authors are: C.S. Cowels, Doctor of Sacred Theology and Professor of Religion at Point Loma Nazarene University; Eugene H. Merrill, Distinguished Professor of Old Testament Studies at Dallas Theological Seminary; Daniel L. Gard, Professor of Exegetical Theology, Dean of Military Chaplaincy Programs at Concordia Theological Seminary; Tremper Longman III, Professor of Biblical Studies at Westmont College.

To their credit, these guys do not pull punches like Professor Copan. They appear to be Hortonians. When God said wipe them out, that's what happened. No fancy-pants semantic gyrations are needed. And to show that these guys aren't going to pussyfoot around, there is a scary picture of a skull lying in the middle of the desert on the cover. "Abandon sissified explanations, all ye who enter here," is what it was saying to me. So, again, I couldn't wait. I hit the _Buy Now_ button on the Kindle and made sure the Wi-Fi was set on turbo-download.

But, before I get into the explanations of these scholars, I need to explain my prejudice. We all have them. I am inordinately fond of children. There you have it. I also like donkeys. You probably figured that out already.

There are certain things you read in college that stay with you until the grave. For me, it was a soliloquy by Ivan in the _Brothers Karamazov_ by Fodor Dostoevsky. He is speaking to his brother Alyosha and trying to explain his problem with accepting God's closely-guarded plan, whatever it may be. And he speaks of the children: (2)

" _Look: if everyone must suffer, in order with their suffering, to purchase eternal harmony, what do young children have to do with it, tell me, please? It is quite impossible to understand why they should have to suffer and why should they have to purchase harmony with their sufferings? Why have they also ended up as raw material, to be the manure for someone else's future harmony?_

[...]

[...] _and so I decline the offer of eternal harmony altogether. It is not worth one single small tear of even one tortured little child that beat its breast with its little fist and prayed in its foul-smelling dog-hole with its unredeemed tears addressed to "dear Father God"! It is not worth it because its tears remain unredeemed. They must be redeemed, or there can be no harmony. But by what means, by what means will you redeem them? Is it even possible? Will you do it by avenging them? But what use is vengeance to me, what use to me is hell for torturers, what can hell put right again, when those children have been tortured to death? And what harmony can there be when there is hell: I want to forgive and I want to embrace—I don't want anyone to suffer anymore. And if the sufferings of children have gone to replenish the sum of suffering that was needed in order to purchase the truth, then I declare in advance that no truth, not even the whole truth, is worth such a price_

[...]

It isn't God I don't accept, Alyosha, it's just his ticket that I most respectfully return to him.

[...]

[...] _tell me yourself directly, I challenge you—reply: imagine that you yourself are erecting the edifice of human fortune with the goal of, at the finale, making people happy, of at last giving them peace and quiet, but that in order to do it would be necessary and unavoidable to torture to death only one tiny little creature, the same child that beat its breast with its little fist, and on its unavenged tears to found that edifice, would you agree to be the architect on those conditions, tell me and tell me truly?"_

I know that I certainly would not. How Ivan and I will fare on judgment is anybody's guess. I'm not so sure about how Professors Copan, Cowels, Merrill, Gard, and Longman would come down on the issue. But if they are eschatologically consistent, they will find a way to justify and rationalize the God allowing the torture and murder of those children. I'm pretty sure about that one. What I'm not real sure about is how one distinguishes between the voice of God giving an order in accordance with His "plan" and a voice brought on by a crystal meth high. More on that in a little while.

Getting back to _Show Them No Mercy,_ these apologists took on a more difficult task than Copan. They attempted to make the Old Testament and the New Testament work together. The mission was how to fit a loving, forgiving, nonviolent son (Jesus Christ of the New Testament) with the violent, cruel, egotistical, warmongering Father (God of the Old Testament). Seemed like quite a challenge.

How do you reconcile Jesus ("Let he who is without sin cast the first stone") with his father, who commanded that we stone to death adulterers, Sabbath-breakers, homosexuals, blasphemers, idol-worshipers, children who disrespect their parents, and many others too numerous to mention. I couldn't find any reference to "Thou shalt give them a warning ticket for a first offense." You talk back to the old man after _he_ gets drunk and beats your mother senseless, _you_ get stoned to death.

But it's possible I'm reading it wrong and that God was much more forgiving than I ever imagined. There is an argument that Leviticus 20:13 indicates that God was in favor of homosexuality and marijuana. "If a man lies with another man he shall be stoned." But I don't think that is what he meant. I intend to ask Professor Copan about this. Incidentally, the other kind of stoning—the kind with actual stones—is pretty much universally recognized today as a form of torture, which would mean we have passed laws that are totally in opposition to God's will.

This would mean, I guess, that a literalist ecclesiastical court would rule that we should be stoned for passing laws banning stoning. However, it should be noted that in certain Islamic countries like Saudi Arabia, it has been raised to an art form. Recently, a woman who was raped was ordered stoned because she was unclean.

Anyway, how do you recognize God the Father, who had a list of capital offenses that would make Governor Rick "I don't need to review the facts of this here conviction, kill 'em and let's get to Cowboy Stadium and have us a prayer meetin'" Perry proud, with the perfect loving and forgiving son. Jesus never ordered people to "kill the little ones" or "show them no mercy" or "save alive nothing that breathes" or "keep the women who have not lain with a man for yourselves." Was Jesus disobeying the clear orders of his father? When did they amend the Bible and repeal the stoning parts? I can't find that amendment anywhere. Where does it say God the Father changed his mind? Was this like the mistake he made with the dinosaurs? Have I missed something? Did I get the abridged version and they cut out the part where the Lord says, "Well, it is possible that I was acting harshly with all that stoning and Yahweh War and baby-killing. I've thought about it and changed my mind. From now on, I am determined to be a kinder and gentler God. I'm going to follow in the footsteps of George W. Bush as a compassionate conservative."

This is the can of Biblical worms that was out there, wriggling away for the authors of _Show Them No Mercy._

C.S. Cowles makes a case for "radical discontinuity" between the Old Testament and the New Testament—and, to be fair, comes close to admitting that the two books can't be squared. The God of the Old Testament was a warrior god. The God of the New Testament was the Prince of Peace. "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you" was not part of the Yahweh worldview. There is nothing remotely close to the nonviolent forgiving pacifism of Jesus in the character of his father.

But here is the problem: Jesus, we are assured, adopted and affirmed the Old Testament as the authentic words of God again and again, never disavowing any portion. What's an apologist to do? If Jesus was God's son and Jesus never rejected the violent, vindictive, jealous, and murderous behavior of his father, how can there be reconciliation between the Old Testament and the New? Well, what would be the conclusion be of someone who was analyzing the two books from a distance? A professor of religion who was _not_ a true believer? Better yet—a visitor from another planet. Someone who was capable of looking at the two _books_ objectively.

The answer would become so obvious it wouldn't even require much thought. Jesus was a Jew who founded a new religion and declared himself the new god. He had almost nothing in common with Yahweh. Jesus embraced the God of the Old Testament because he wanted the Jewish people to follow him and he knew about the Messiah story. The "good news" he was bringing was that the nasty, unforgiving, old God had changed his mind and his character. Violence and retribution were now out. Love, forgiveness, and peace were now in. It was indeed good news.

The problem for Christianity is that this astoundingly inescapable conclusion calls into question the character, ontological perfection, and goodness of the prior model, a.k.a. God the Father. And there is no getting around the dogma that there _is_ a God the Father. Jesus said so. Jesus acknowledged, revered, and adored Him. So the true believers have to _make it fit._ As any child knows, when you try too hard to make a square peg fit into a round hole, you will wind up breaking the corners off, and otherwise damaging it to the point where it is no longer recognizable as a square peg. You would then say, it used to be a square peg, but after I broke the corners off it was a new shape. Let's call it "broken."

This is where C.S. Cowels ends up when he says, "Since Jesus has come, we are under no obligation to justify that which cannot be justified, but can only be described as pre-Christ, sub Christ and anti-Christ." (3) Finally, an apologist who comes very close to apologizing. No matter how many times you read Cowles's essay, you will always come to the same conclusion: he wants nothing to do with the Old Testament even though he tries desperately to explain it. It was superseded by the New (and vastly improved) Testament. And that is why he uses the phrase "radical discontinuity."

Radical, indeed. I must say, if I was out shopping for an ism—I am not—I would stop and window shop at C.S. Cowels religious isms store. I would listen to what he has to say. He calls it like he can't avoid seeing it. I give him credit for that. I hope his colleagues don't hold my praise against him.

Co-author Eugene Merrill also, to his credit, does not engage in a Copian rewrite of the genocidal texts and brutality. But he sees no way around them. So he _embraces_ them. Merrell says God made a covenant with his people (also known as a deal in some circles) to protect them. When Pharaoh enslaved them Merrell reminds us: _"He hears the groans of this people, remembers the covenant he made with their fathers [...]"_

Query: had he forgotten them for the proceeding four hundred-thirty years? Was he suffering from Godheimers? Were their groans not _ripe_ enough? Are you serious?

" _...] and undertakes measures to affect their redemption. He will now assume the role of warrior first of all demonstrating his glory and power to Pharaoh and when that fails by itself to achieve the desired ends, he will implement by force the deliverance of his beleaguered people."_ [(4)

... by killing babies. There you have it. _Glory through infanticide._ Fits nicely on a chariot bumper sticker. In Merrell's world, an ultimatum is an ultimatum and if takes killing babies to show that you aren't screwing around, so be it. With regard to the later slaughter of the Canaanites and Midianites, Merrell points out, "And the smiting must result in herem, utter destruction. The option of making covenant with such people or undertaking marriage with them or even of showing mercy and sparing them for some other reason can never be entertained. They will induce Israel to follow their gods and embrace their abominable forms of worship. Instead, they and their worship apparatus must be exterminated." (5)

Exterminated. With the most extreme prejudice He can think of. Like insects. Including the babies and toddlers who may have been secretly worshiping little doll-god idols in their nurseries. Perhaps, the idol-dolls were ones that resembled Barbie and Ken. I know that I always wanted to rip the head off that stupid little Ken doll. Plus, I know for a fact that he was doing Barbie and he had it coming.

The truth is that _I wanted to do Barbie._ Every heterosexual little boy wanted to do Barbie.

Here's my question: couldn't God have simply told the Israelites not to fool around with the Canaanites? Why didn't he just give a direct order using harsh language? Was he worried that his commands to the Israelites packed so little weight that they would be ignored and the Israelites would be so easily corrupted by a bunch of scruffy desert heathens? What if had said, _WHAT PART OF 'DON'T MINGLE WITH THE CANAANITES' IS UNCLEAR TO YOU!_ using his best Charlton Heston voice? What if he had taken away the Canaanite children's Barbie and Ken dolls? Are you telling me the God of Gods couldn't have done that?

Merrell answers the question by telling us, "Once it is recognized that the battle ultimately is cosmic and that what is at stake is God's reputation and sovereignty, it is easier to see why radical destruction of those who oppose him is an absolute necessity." (6)

Including, of course... babies. I see. Yes, it's very easy to understand. You have God's _reputation_ on the line on one hand, and the slaughter of innocent babies on the other. A no-brainer. At least for Merrell. Maybe I should have left the "er" off brainer. Merrell makes traditional circular reasoning look linear.

Let's examine the word, "lunacy". Lunatics are crazy. They believe impossibly insane things. They imagine things that aren't real. I submit that people who believe and advocate that the protection of God's reputation is a justification for slaughtering children raised by non-believers suffer from a form of mass lunacy.

Perhaps I chose too mild a word.

Merrell is not the guy I want as the spiritual advisor to the president in a situation where nukes are an option. Imagine this combination in the White House: President Rick Perry with Eugene Merrell at his side. Sing with me:

Arm-a-ged-don, here we come... right back where we started from...

I finished reading Merrell's explanation and after I peeled myself off the ceiling, I decided to write the guy an email. Here it is.

I have always been interested in the possible explanations of the horrors perpetrated and initiated by Yahweh in the Old Testament. So I read with great interest your essay on moderate discontinuity. What I find so astounding is your dodge of the issue of the children. What did the two-year-olds have to do with idolatry? Can your answer really be "God is perfect in every way and sometimes he acts mysteriously and who are we to question his plan?" Can't you see that Hitler used the identical argument when he slaughtered children? He had to in order to purge Europe of the Christ killers. What is the difference? Can you really buy into the abominable acts of genocide with the rationalization that God had to do what he did to keep the Chosen people on the right path? Does your mind really work that way? Don't you see that when you teach your flock not to question because God is perfect and he knows what he is doing, you give them basic training to accept the words and deeds of those who claim to speak for him? I have in mind pedophile priests and ministers who also can claim to be acting mysteriously.

Merrell, to his credit, took the time to respond:

Dear Howard,

First, have you forgotten your manners? How strange to forgo normal collegial greetings when writing to a fellow believer.

The questions you pose are, of course, at the heart of the difficulty of the issue. I am sorry you found my answer so wanting, but in a brief essay I could not possibly go very deeply into the matter. I hope I can do so sometime in the future.

Meanwhile, I would be interested to see how you would answer the question of so-called holy war without departing from normal hermeneutics or fidelity to God's Word as written.

Cordially in Christ Jesus,

Eugene Merrill

Howie Responds:

Eugene,

First let me say that you are correct. I owe you an apology. I am, unfortunately, quick to anger when I encounter tortured variations of Anslem's ontological argument. We could argue forever about why Santa failed to bring Bobby a new bicycle for Christmas and I am quite certain the contributors to Show Them No Mercy could come up with some wonderful explanations which would all be theologically defensible. But you are doing the best that you can with a difficult corner you find yourself backed into and I give you credit for that. You can, of course, step out of the corner anytime you like and read The Emperor's New Clothes or watch the wonderful scene in The Wizard of Oz (a philosophical treatise which answers just about every seemingly unanswerable question I ever asked) where Toto pulls the curtain back.

Also, I want to compliment you on your clever and gentle chide. Well done. I am sometimes described by friends as being about as gentle as a bowling bowl. It's a style thing.

In any event, I spent some time wading through Show Them No Mercy and Is God a Moral Monster by Paul Copan, and doing everything possible to keep my head from exploding when the authors revealed their "answers" (it was quite a struggle). Seems to me that everything comes back to finding comfort in the old "mysterious ways" shrug of the shoulders. But I could be missing something here.

Just be kind when you can. It's really that simple.

Cordially, In Reason We Trust

Howie

I haven't heard back from Eugene. I will anxiously await his expanded essay on the glory to God bestowed by the slaughtered babies. Maybe he will tell me he has inside information they are at God's side playing happily and glad they were put to the sword and they now understand the whole _mysteriousness_ thing. I can't wait to read it.

And then there was Tremper Longman III, a co-author who argued _The Case for Spiritual Continuity._ He, it turns out, is at odds with both Merrell and Cowles. To me, he was far and away the most entertaining. Forget about all that stuff about a kinder and gentler New Testament, says Longman III, because, "...] the New Testament in the final analysis is equally bloody as the Old Testament. It will not do simply divorce the Old Testament from the canon and shape the God that we worship in the image of what we think is acceptable." [(7)

Now, that's what I'm talking about! This is a guy who pulls no punches and makes no apologies, rational or otherwise. If God wants to burn babies, that's his God-given right! And if you think that was harsh, wait till you hear what is in store for non-believers if President Rick Perry decides to punch the Big Red Button.

While Merrell tiptoes around the children issue and writes me that he will deal with it when time permits, Longman III relishes the problem and takes it head on. "...] we must point out that the Bible does not understand the destruction of the men, women and children of these cities as a slaughter of innocents. Not even the children are considered innocent. They are part of an inherently wicked culture that, if allowed to live would morally and theologically pollute the people of Israel." [(8)

There you have it. Adolf Hitler could not have said it any better. Oh, to be there when God takes aim at the children in all his glory! These infants are _potential polluters._ Push the little bastards in the fire pit, roast them, and make way for Yahweh. Glory to God and throw another Jew on the barbie.

I was so stunned when I read Longman III's praise of divine baby killing that my first thought was that the guy had to be pulling my leg. Maybe it was just a ruse. He was a secular humanist in a minister's outfit, demonstrating how completely insane this all was. He was skillfully showing how anybody that really believed babies could pollute God's chosen culture was part of the lunatic fringe. This had to be Jonathan Swift-type satire. Sort of like _A Modest Proposal for Preventing the Children of Poor People From Being a Burden to Their Parents or Country, and for Making Them Beneficial to the Publick_. Swift, you may recall, suggested that we eat them. Say, wasn't "pollution of the chosen race of people" a war cry we heard about in recent history? When children were machine-gunned and thrown in gas chambers because they might grow up to be a pollution threat?

Yes, that was it. It had to be a clever bit of literary irony. Tremper Longman III was playing with us. He was making a point using the same art form Voltaire used. That had to be it. _It had to be._

As I digested my conclusion I began to admire the man. I love good satire.

But it wasn't satire.

Longman III really believed in the righteousness of it all. And much worse. Let me tell you about the Lake of Fire. It seems that there is another side to the gentle Jesus and the God of Love. At least, there is according to the guys who decided to adopt the ancient (crystal meth-induced?) text called Revelation. Longman goes on to lovingly embrace the dark and obscene terrorism horror show that makes Christianity run so powerfully. This is the essential textual component that is really driving the Evangelical love machine.

Behold: the Book of Revelation.

But, first, I want you to take a moment to imagine a sales pitch for a retirement community in the perfect climate, where it never gets above 80°F and never gets colder than 68°F. Let's call it Happy World. Next, imagine lush vegetation, golf and tennis, free Internet and cable access, and gourmet restaurants. And there is no crime. None. Sounds a little like the Villages so far. Maybe they will throw in unlimited airfares, so those who buy there can travel a few times a year if they get bored.

It sounds... well... heavenly.

But, still, you just can't sell everyone on paradise. There are skeptics out there who ask picky questions about financing, and whether you own the property in fee simple or a lifetime lease, and how well the project is capitalized. All reasonable questions for the sales force, don't you think? Still, even without answers to those reasonable questions, units are going to be sold. But there is competition in the retirement field. Lots of it—because the boomers are the pig in the python and they are here ready to cash out their 401(k)s and have fun. Every retirement development is competing for a share of the boomer-accumulated wealth.

Now, imagine this: Happy World has influence in Congress and gets a law passed that says if you don't buy retirement property in Happy World, you will go to Gulag World in Alaska (picture a community near Wasilla, where Sarah Palin teaches geography at the community college and everyone must attend), and spend the rest of your days shoveling snow from your driveway, living in the dark for half the year, and dealing with black flies the size of starlings. Well, the first thing I would hope you would want to know if you have half a brain is _whether it was true_ and whether Happy World and Gulag World _had even been built yet._ Can we see pictures or go for a visit?

But then you are told that you can be sent to Gulag World for even _doubting_ that the Happy World project exists. Don't even _think_ about it. Sort of a _don't ask, don't think_ policy. How many more units do you think are going to be sold with this special nasty "added incentive"? Gulag World sounds like a scary place. I'd guess it would be a pretty effective sales tool.

I was telling you, however, about the Book of Revelation. The final chapter of the New Testament. There's a connection. Trust me. I'm a lawyer.

Tremper Longman III reminds us, "To be sure, Jesus even tells his disciples to 'put your sword back in its place.' However, quoting from the Book of Revelation immediately belies such a simplistic view of the Bible. No more fearful picture of a vengeful, violent God may be found than that described in Revelation 20:11-15.'

At this point, I must confess, I was on my feet, cheering Tremper on to tell it like it is, brother! He did not disappoint. It seems that the same Jesus who told Peter to put away his sword and proclaimed that the battle to be fought on earth would henceforth be spiritual—the Jesus who renounced violence—was going to change his tactics, because that technique was doomed to failure with about half of the world's population, so he was coming back at a later date to deal with evil and all of the non-believers. Which raises the pesky question of why he wasted his breath on all those great sermons _if he knew for certain_ that the whole "love thy neighbor" and "prepare a feast for thine enemies" and "love is the answer" thing was doomed to failure. Why not just start kicking some Roman ass back then? The water-into-wine thing and walking on water was neat, but it didn't really impress the Romans any more than locusts did the Pharaoh.

It wasn't like he was saying, _Follow my rules and this will all work out._ He was saying, _I know most of you aren't about to follow my rules. And a lot of you who do will be eaten in the Coliseum by lions._ It's like the failure was already pre-ordained. How come? I know it has something to do with free will and we are supposed to choose to do what he tells us to do, but it's all very confusing. Especially so because he knew full well that his message and his warning could not possibly reach everyone. It was not going to reach tribes in the Amazon and it was not going to reach the little children. You know... the ones who weren't developed far enough to know anything about free will. Or children in China and Indonesia and Iran who weren't even allowed to hear the "good news" or digest the message. All of them will, unfortunately, have to be condemned as "unbelievers" and Revelation is very clear that unbelievers are going swimming in the lake of fire, along with murderers, adulterers and liars.

Anyway, when he comes back, Longman III reminds us, he will come in all his glory, as a warrior! Just like his dad. We will have come full circle. And he isn't going to be a warrior like Joshua, who sacked a few cities and participated in a few genocides and donkey-slaughter parties. This time he is going to be _really pissed_ and he'll mean business. All hell will break loose. Literally.

Longman III quotes as follows from Revelation: "He is dressed in a robe dipped in blood and his name is Word of God [...] out of his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down nations."

Jesus? Are you shitting me? Are we talking about the same Jesus here? I was thinking that maybe it was a reference to Jesus Martinez who runs the Avenger Cartel in Juarez, Mexico. Sounds like the kind of outfit he would wear. But no. It's the other Jesus. The good one.

It goes on: "He will rule them with an iron scepter. He treads the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God Almighty. On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written. King of Kings and Lord of Lords."

Now I am back to thinking it _has to be_ the Juarez guy. Tattoos and slogans embroidered on the robe dipped in blood. An ego only slightly less offensive than Donald Trump's? Has to be that guy. But I was wrong again. "The beast was captured [...]"

I received a special email, which I will share with you shortly, that identified the beast as President Obama, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

"[...] and with him the false prophet who had performed the miraculous signs on his behalf. [...] The two of them were thrown alive into the fiery lake of burning sulfur. The rest of them were killed with the sword that came out of the mouth of the rider of the horse, and all the birds gorged themselves on their flesh."

Then Longman III says, "We quote this passage at length to communicate the violence associated with the Second Coming." (9)

Special questions for Longman: Who in the hell is "we"? Did you have help writing this essay? Was God chatting with you? Did you take dictation? Is this the "royal we"? Did you support the Trump run for President? I need to know, because in several places you use the term "we" to refer to _you._ Is it possible that you are legion or somehow schizophrenic?

Lest you think I am being too hard on poor Tremper, I want to give you a final quote to feast on. Always save the best part for the end. I love happy endings. So does Tremper. Are you ready? Here it is:

"Indeed, it must be said that those who have moral difficulties with the genocide in the conquest of Canaan should have even more serious difficulties with the final judgment. In the latter, all those who do not follow Christ—men, women, and children—will be thrown into the lake of fire. The alternatives to embracing this picture are either rejecting the biblical God or playing the Marcionite game of choosing those Scriptures that suit us, or perhaps treating the final judgment as a metaphor for total annihilation."(10)

Exactly. I could not have said it better. You have reduced this cosmic battle to an either/or proposition and you and I are in perfect _simpatico._

And, to this disturbing worldview, Daniel L. Gard, the fourth editor of _Show Them No Mercy,_ adds, "The amazing thing is not that Jericho and Ai were destroyed. The amazing thing is that all humanity including ancient Israel and every other child of Adam has not been destroyed. ...] In the end, all those who are outside of Christ will meet the same fate as the adults and infants of Jericho and Ai." [(11)

Congratulations are in order to Gard and Longman. You guys are hereby acquitted of the charge of intellectual dishonesty and cherry-picking. You have demonstrated perfectly why the tree may be rotten at its core and deserves to be cut down before it poisons more of the innocent.

I will proudly stand with the ghost of Ivan Karamazov and will fight you to the death on your judgment day to keep you and your vile gods from throwing the children into the lake of fire. And I will come close to hoping there is a real hell for all those who would cheer such an event. The quote from Aliens is worth repeating:

LITTLE GIRL

My mommy always said there were no monsters... no real ones... but there are.

RIPLEY

Yes, there are, aren't there.

LITTLE GIRL

Why do they tell little kids that?

Why, indeed, gentlemen? Take a good look (or behold, if you prefer)at the real monsters. The men who spread this kind of terror in order to increase their flock. Incidentally, C.S. Cowles, God bless him, apparently saw the light and has a terrific blog titled, _Why I De-Converted from Evangelical Christianity._ He could not abide by the slavery and horrors of the Old Testament. I wonder if his co-authors from Show Them No Mercy will argue that he should be lake of fire kindling at the end of days.

**Nostradamus, the Amazing Randi, and Doubting Thomas Jefferson**

But maybe it really isn't an either/or proposition. Maybe it just seems like one. Maybe you have to step back out of the cosmic mousetrap rather than trying to keep it from closing, and look at it from another angle. Maybe it's only cherry picking if you buy into it as an ism. Just maybe there's a place where we can order from this menu on an _a la carte_ basis. A cosmic restaurant serving up Jesus as a wonderful dish even I can order.

I mentioned a chain email I received (from a well-educated guy in my golf group) a while back about the Book of Revelation and the then-candidate Obama. Here is what it said:

According to The Book of Revelation:

The Anti-Christ will be a man, in his 40s, of MUSLIM descent, who will deceive the nations with persuasive language, and have a MASSIVE Christ-like appeal. [...] the prophecy says that people will flock to him and he will promise false hope and world peace, and when he is in power, he will destroy everything.

This, I don't mind telling you, was some scary shit. The email may have even come with sound effects from _The Exorcist._ I'm trying to remember. _A man in his 40s of Muslim descent._ Better batten down the hatches and reconsider voting for Sarah Palin. And it's right there in Revelation, written two thousand years ago—predicted with uncanny precision exactly what was going on in 2007!

Again though, I was confused. Wouldn't this turn out to be a good thing? Wouldn't Christ come back, wearing his cool red robe dipped in blood, kick the living shit out of Obama, and usher in the good times? What's to worry about? Seemed to me we should sit back, vote for Obama, and enjoy _The Wonderful Lake of Fire Show._ There might even be refreshments. I'm pretty sure they will serve carrot cake on the shores of the lake to the believers. But let's leave that thorny question aside for a while and get back to the scary shit.

Wait a minute...

Wasn't Revelation written about five hundred years _before_ Mohammed starting running around the desert? How could there even have been such a word as "Muslim" to talk about in Revelation? Is it _possible_ that there was something fishy about this email? Could it have been written by a Birther who was convinced that Obama supporters traveled back in time to put his birth announcement in the Honolulu newspaper? Donald Trump's investigators may need to get on this after the lizard investigation. I mean, if they could pull the back-in-time trick off, wasn't it possible that the guy who wrote Revelation could see into the future and know that Muslims were on their way? Yes. Sure. Except for one small problem besides the timing one.

It isn't in Revelation.

Somebody (I know this will shock you) made this nonsense up to scare us! Holy bullshit, Batman! In the "real" Revelation... wait a minute. How can we tell what the "real" Revelation is? Good question.

And while we are chewing on that one, is it possible that some first-century zonked-out lunatic with his own agenda, (again, I hope you are sitting down for this one) spawned from a bad drug trip (khat was the drug of choice back then) after eating psychedelic camel droppings _made all of this nonsense up to scare people into signing up?_

This brings me to Nostradamus—an amazing guy who lived in the sixteenth century in France and predicted all kinds of cool stuff—and an even more amazing guy who lives today and is known by his showbiz magician sobriquet, "The Amazing Randi."

First Randi. Randi is an editor of _Skeptic Magazine_ and a professional debunker of phonies. Included in this category are people who claim to have ESP, faith healers, spoon-benders, soothsayers, New Age mystics, and sellers of homeopathic healing magic health remedies. For forty years, he has had a standing offer to pay a million dollars to anyone who could demonstrate _any kind_ of paranormal, supernatural, or occult-type event in a setting where it could be verified. No takers. Not one.

Think about that. The offer is open to the entire world. Anybody who can read thoughts, see into the future or have conversations with angels, and _not one person has shown up in forty years._ Think what they could do with a million bucks of skeptic-atheist booty. Think about all the good they could do with that kind of cash. What in the hell are they waiting for?

Randi is also a terrific magician and living proof of the aphorism that you can't bullshit a bullshitter. Consider this a plug for _Skeptic Magazine_ and everything that Randi ever wrote. I met the guy once in Florida and I love him. I am considering sending my grandchildren to study under him and learn how to ask questions and do cool tricks.

Now I want you to think back a couple of decades to when Kaddafi was still in power and making a lot of noise in the Middle East and behaving like he was the second coming of Mohammed. Now, suppose I told you back 1987 that it had been documented _in a really old book_ that in 1537 Nostradamus predicted that the Antichrist would come (this was before the Obama Antichrist emails) and that a million Iranians under Kaddafi's power would invade Mesopotamia all the way to Egypt. How could that be? Nostradamus wrote about Kaddafi and warned that he was going to do bad stuff? Are you kidding me? Well, I'm not, but the author of the book that made the claim about the Nostradamus prediction was. Here is what Randi found:

_One modern "interpreter" of Nostradamus, John Hogue, first issued his book_ Nostradamus and the Millennium _in 1987. In that volume, he quoted his own very liberally translated versions of several quatrains that he believed predicted certain events involving the Near East, and he specified those events. He named four "anti-Christ" candidates, and for one he said that Nostradamus had clearly predicted:_

[In August of 1987] a million Iranians under Kaddafi's power [will] invade Mesopotamia all the way to Egypt.

_Then came the 1991 (fourth) printing of his very successful book, after the massive Libyan invasion had failed to take place. This edition had six pages of revised text, with another Antichrist in the person of Saddam Hussein substituted for the Ayatollah Khomeini, who had inconsiderately died rather than fulfilling Nostradamus's plan for him. This new and improved edition omitted completely the above-quoted prediction along with another Hogue had made for a specifically dated alliance of the superpowers. Blank spots replaced the previous entries. One thing, however, remained the same in both editions: the portrait of Nostradamus clutching a telescope, an instrument that had not yet been invented when the seer died._ (12)

I know you will be stunned to learn that these shenanigans were perpetrated in order to get us to believe something that wasn't true by a guy who was interested in selling books. In other cases, authors of books want us to believe all sorts of things. They have different agendas. Let's go over this one more time: _just because it's in a book with a cool binding with swirls and old drawings doesn't always mean that it's really true._ Read that as many times as you need to for it to sink in.

This is similar conceptually to the John Wayne pretend-hero concept I went over with you several chapters back.

So maybe... . _just maybe_... just because it's in the Bible, that doesn't _necessarily_ make it all true. I'm just sayin'.

And if everything in the Bible isn't true, maybe it is okay to do some _reverse_ cherry-picking. Which is exactly what President Doubting Thomas Jefferson—god bless him (so to speak)—did.

Now, Glenn Beck and Rick Santorum, listen up. I know you guys believe that this is a "Christian nation" and that everything should be a lot more Christian, because that is really what the Founding Fathers wanted, but you are going to be a little surprised to read the following quotes from one of our greatest Founding Fathers. Actually I will go out on a limb here and call Thomas Jefferson our greatest Founding Father of all time. In addition to coming up with the whole separation of church and state thing (you two dopes need to read that part again), Jefferson wrote:

Millions of innocent men, women and children, since the introduction of Christianity, have been burnt, tortured, fined and imprisoned; yet we have not advanced one inch towards uniformity. ( _Notes on Virginia,_ 1782)

But it does me no injury for my neighbor to say there are twenty gods or no God. It neither picks my pocket nor breaks my leg. ( _Notes on Virginia,_ 1782)

What is it men cannot be made to believe! (Letter to Richard Henry Lee, April 22, 1786)

Question with boldness even the existence of a god; because if there be one he must approve of the homage of reason more than that of blindfolded fear. (Letter to Peter Carr, August 10, 1787)

Where the preamble declares, that coercion is a departure from the plan of the holy author of our religion, an amendment was proposed by inserting "Jesus Christ," so that it would read "A departure from the plan of Jesus Christ, the holy author of our religion;" the insertion was rejected by the great majority, in proof that they meant to comprehend, within the mantle of its protection, the Jew and the Gentile, the Christian and Mohammedan, the Hindoo and Infidel of every denomination. (Autobiography, in reference to the Virginia Act for Religious Freedom)

I concur with you strictly in your opinion of the comparative merits of atheism and demonism, and really see nothing but the latter in the being worshipped by many who think themselves Christians. (Letter to Richard Price, January 8, 1789) (13)

I never submitted the whole system of my opinions to the creed of any party of men whatever in religion, in philosophy, in politics, or in anything else where I was capable of thinking for myself. Such an addiction is the last degradation of a free and moral agent. (Letter to Francis Hopkinson, March 13, 1789)

[The clergy] believe that any portion of power confided to me, will be exerted in opposition to their schemes. And they believe rightly; for I have sworn upon the altar of god, eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man. But this is all they have to fear from me: and enough, too, in their opinion. (Letter to Dr. Benjamin Rush, September 23, 1800)

Believing with you that religion is a matter which lies solely between man and his God, that he owes account to none other for his faith or his worship, that the legislative powers of government reach actions only, and not opinions, I contemplate with sovereign reverence that act of the whole American people which declared that their legislature should 'make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof,' thus building a wall of separation between church and State. (Letter to Danbury Baptist Association, CT., January 1, 1802)

History, I believe, furnishes no example of a priest-ridden people maintaining a free civil government. This marks the lowest grade of ignorance of which their civil as well as religious leaders will always avail themselves for their own purposes. (Letter to Alexander von Humboldt, December 6, 1813)

The whole history of [the Gospels] is so defective and doubtful that it seems vain to attempt minute enquiry into it: and such tricks have been played with their text, and with the texts of other books relating to them, that we have a right, from that cause, to entertain much doubt what parts of them are genuine. In the New Testament there is internal evidence that parts of it have proceeded from an extraordinary man; and that other parts are of the fabric of very inferior minds. It is as easy to separate those parts, as to pick out diamonds from dunghills. (Letter to John Adams, January 24, 1814)

Christianity neither is, nor ever was a part of the common law. (Letter to Dr. Thomas Cooper, February 10, 1814)

In every country to in every age, the priest has been hostile to liberty. He is always in alliance with the despot, abetting his abuses in return for protection to his own. (Letter to Horatio G. Spafford, March 17, 1814)

If we did a good act merely from love of God and a belief that it is pleasing to Him, whence arises the morality of the Atheist?... Their virtue, then, must have had some other foundation than the love of God. (Letter to Thomas Law, June 13, 1814)

You say you are a Calvinist. I am not. I am of a sect by myself, as far as I know. (Letter to Ezra Stiles Ely, June 25, 1819)

As you say of yourself, I too am an Epicurean. I consider the genuine (not the imputed) doctrines of Epicurus as containing everything rational in moral philosophy which Greece and Rome have left us. (Letter to William Short, October 31, 1819)

Man once surrendering his reason, has no remaining guard against absurdities the most monstrous, and like a ship without rudder, is the sport of every wind. (Letter to James Smith, 1822)

I can never join Calvin in addressing _his god_. He was indeed an Atheist, which I can never be; or rather his religion was Daemonism. If ever man worshipped a false god, he did. (Letter to John Adams, April 11, 1823)

And the day will come when the mystical generation of Jesus, by the supreme being as his father in the womb of a virgin will be classed with the fable of the generation of Minerve in the brain of Jupiter. But may we hope that the dawn of reason and freedom of thought in these United States will do away with this artificial scaffolding, and restore to us the primitive and genuine doctrines of this most venerated reformer of human errors. (Letter to John Adams, April 11, 1823)

It is between fifty and sixty years since I read [the Apocalypse], and I then considered it merely the ravings of a maniac, no more worthy nor capable of explanation than the incoherences of our own nightly dreams. (Letter to General Alexander Smyth, January 17, 1825)

All eyes are opened, or opening, to the rights of man. The general spread of the light of science has already laid open to every view the palpable truth, that the mass of mankind has not been born with saddles on their backs, nor a favored few booted and spurred, ready to ride them legitimately, by the grace of God. (Letter to Roger C. Weightman, June 24, 1826—the last letter he penned)

These musings inspired Jefferson to do an audacious and wonderful thing. He _rewrote_ the New Testament. Don't gasp. It's a cool thing to have done. Every time it is has been translated, it has been rewritten to some extent. Today, his version is known as _The Jefferson Bible._ And he cut all the nonsense (i.e., stuff that made _no sense)_ out. Literally cut it out with scissors and then put what was left together with some paste. He cut out all the crazy hocus-pocus parts, and all the stuff that was put in there to terrorize and awe people into believing, signing up, giving up their money to build churches and buy fancy outfits for future Popes. He called it _The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth._ And that is exactly what is in it. No miracles, no return from the dead, no lake of fire for the non-believers, and no Revelation. It's only forty-seven pages long. And you know what? It's pretty awesome. You should read it sometime.

Here is how Jefferson described the process: (14)

There will be found remaining the most sublime and benevolent code of morals which has ever been offered to man. I have performed this operation for my own use, by cutting verse by verse out of the printed book, and arranging the matter which is evidently his, and which is as easily distinguishable as diamonds in a dunghill. The result is an octavo forty-six pages of pure and unsophisticated doctrines.

Sweet. There are "diamonds in the dunghill." Pure, unadulterated, no-holds-barred, well-reasoned blasphemy. But there are those who have a vested interest in the dunghill parts. People who want the tell-tale odor of their droppings to overwhelm and scare the _shit out of you;_ people who make a living off the mind terrorism that makes the needy and the lost tremble with fear of hell and lakes of fire. That is how they earn their stipends. Is there any better scam in the world than extortion of contributions based upon imaginary horribles? That is what pays for their cars and their housing. And I wouldn't be complaining about a used Chevy and a split-level in the suburbs. It's the charlatans who are making hedge fund manager dollars who make me want to believe in and pray for eternal damnation.

An _Inside Edition_ investigation revealed huge mansions, private jets, multiple expensive cars, yachts, private airstrips and lavish lifestyles that would make rock stars blush. (15)

They are powerless and unemployable without your fear. They are worthless, despicable vampires. And they would have to do honest work for a living if the faithful ever caught on. But they have a good thing going. They are busy selling real estate in a celestial development that no one has ever seen. And business is booming. They don't want you to ask too many questions, especially questions about the children. And they don't want you to know that it's all pretty simple once you take the dung-topping away.

Jesus had some wonderful things to say. There are wonderful messages. All of the answers aren't there. They never are. And whatever you _do_ take away, it's just fine if you share it. But resist the temptation to preach it.

Not many copies of Thomas Jefferson's Bible are downloaded. I find that curious. It seems that people aren't interested in the teachings of Jesus without miracles and damnation and Satan and the Lake of Fire.

Maybe it's analogous to making a movie. Can you imagine selling tickets to _The Godfather_ if you edited all the murders out? Maybe the trick with the Bible is that these guys knew full well that the message just wouldn't sell without the threats and the terror. In any event, I doubt that the heaven salesmen have anything to worry about. The whole psychology is captured nicely in the song "Santa Claus is Coming to Town"—because, when you think about it, the God and Jesus they are selling is just an R-rated Santa.

You better watch out

You better not cry

Better not pout

I'm telling you why

Santa Claus is coming to town

He's making a list

And checking it twice

Gonna find out

Who's naughty and nice

Santa Claus is coming to town

He sees you when you're sleeping

He knows when you're awake

He knows if you've been bad or good

So be good for goodness sake!

That's the God song. You better watch out. In the Thomas Jefferson version, it would be reduced to the one line that always seems to get lost. _So be good for goodness sake._ But nobody would sing it. I'd wager that very few people ever give that line a second thought. Be good for _goodness's sake._ And I often wonder if the guy who wrote it knew how important it was. It's possible he was just looking for a rhyme. The phrase "for goodness sake" has become like "bless you" after a sneeze. Just something people say and never think about.

I live on an island that has a road that goes over a bridge and leads to the main highway. Johns Island, South Carolina. The road is called Main Road. It is seventeen miles long. There are seventeen churches on that road. Each one is selling salvation. How did they create that much demand? I don't understand how that can be. And I wonder what would become of all those Jesus salesmen if people did start reading _The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth_ edited by Thomas Jefferson.

Think about this. Thomas Jefferson was, by any church definition, a blasphemer and a heretic. Thomas Jefferson would have been tortured and burned at the stake during the Inquisition. The idiots on Religion TV today would tell you that Thomas Jefferson is, right now, roasting in Hell with a pitchfork up his ass, praise be to God and Jesus! And they will be gleeful about it. Serves him right for not believing the same stuff they do and messing with their meal ticket.

It seems history has given us more than one Doubting Thomas. The second one lived a great life and helped us found a civil society based on the most important secular principles ever put down on paper by mankind. He was fearless.

In _Mere Christianity_ , C. S. Lewis, an atheist who converted to Christianity, indirectly addressed Jefferson's incredulity about the Bible's recounting of Jesus proclaiming his divinity and reached this almost inescapable conclusion;

" _A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic — on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut him up for a fool, you can spit at him and kill him as a demon or you can fall at his feet and call him Lord and God, but let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about his being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to."_

Makes almost perfect sense. Either/or. Lord or Lunatic.

But not so fast. It's not that simple. Thomas Jefferson made an amazing observation, which suggests another alternative to C.S. Lewis's take on the divinity issue...

Among the sayings and discourses imputed to [Jesus] by his biographers, I find many passages of fine imagination, correct morality, and of the most lovely benevolence; and others again of so much ignorance, so much absurdity, so much untruth, charlatanism, and imposture, as to pronounce it impossible that such contradictions should have proceeded from the same being. (Letter to William Short, April 13, 1820)

Jefferson opens our eyes to another possibility. What if the "charlatanism" parts were not part of anything Jesus ever really said or claimed to have done? What if he would have been appalled at the stories claiming he walked on water and raised the dead and gave the blind sight? What if those stories, and the scary part about a robe dipped in blood and a sword coming out of his mouth, were added as sales tools _after he died?_

What if he never claimed to be the son of God in any sense other than how all of us are?

All of a sudden, it might not be an either/or, take-it-or-leave-it proposition. Is it possible that he would have been very angry at the Evangelical claim that "Jesus died for your sins," and would have preferred us to say, "Jesus died. Your sins are _your_ sins, so man up"?

Most Biblical scholars agree that the earliest gospel was written sixty to seventy years after Jesus died. That means that the actual scribes or authors who put pen to papyrus _never even met him_ and wouldn't have known him if they tripped over him. These were not first-person eye-witness accounts of his life or his miracles.

Jesus, unfortunately, never wrote down a word. And writing had been around for centuries before Jesus was born. The Old Testament had been reduced to writing hundreds of years earlier. So why wasn't anything like a gospel written down contemporaneously with Christ's life or death? After all, Jesus is said to have done incredibly newsworthy things. Raising the dead and walking on water and a resurrection should have been headline material in _Ye Old World Weekly World News._ And when the first disciples spread out to bring the good news around the world, you would sure think that they would have left behind writings of sayings and miracles for the newly converted to pass on.

That is how Christianity eventually _did t_ ake off: the _written_ _gospels. You would think it would have been one of the first things the enlightened disciples would have done_ _. Written it all down._

We can, of course, only speculate—and that is the best Biblical scholars have been able to do. We just will never know. Some of the speculation rings true. Some does not. Some Evangelicals think that the first converts were afraid to write it down for fear it would be found and they would be crucified. But that one doesn't make much sense, because they were offering themselves up for martyrdom all over the place, and it had never stopped true believers who came before the Christians.

How about this one: literacy was something that was only prevalent among the upper classes (i.e., Romans and Jewish religious leaders), and the men who spread the good news were not literate. Possible... but Christianity spread pretty fast. You would think somebody could have been recruited to write it down. This was the truth of truths.

Another popular theory is that the apostles expected Jesus to return any day, so what was the point of doing all that writing? Okay, but at what point would they have sat down and said, _Look, he is obviously being held up or the time isn't right, so we better go to press?_ Does it make sense that they would have waited sixty or seventy years? That explanation would account for maybe five years, but _seventy?_

Maybe there is a contemporaneous text and we just haven't found it yet. Again, possible... but here is something we _do_ know: the story of Jesus was initially spread orally. _Everyone a_ grees with that. The first good news accounts were _spoken._

Have you ever played the party game where you whisper a simple statement in the ear of the person next to you? It may start out as something like, _Susie is going to an affair at Bob Jones University with her "Introduction to the New Testament" professor._ By the time it makes around the room, Joanie was caught in the hot tub with the Pope and a llama smoking pot. It happens every time. The oral story never makes it back the same way it started out.

Now, imagine these fantastic accounts about Jesus being transmitted orally for _seventy years_ to God knows how many people in how many countries. Now, ponder the fact that they were translated into twenty different languages. Orally. How hard is it to imagine a story that started out as _... and they took him off the cross and he sure as hell looked dead, so we put him in a cave and you're not going to believe this, but the next day he got up and walked out! Cool, huh? You just can't keep a good man down. Jesus was tough to kill,_ making it to the version that was finally written down seventy years later? Would common sense lead you to believe that the distortion process was just _possible_ —or incredibly likely?

Put it another way: what possible reason or experience could you have ever had that would lead you to believe anything else? Or, try this one: think about how incredibly distorted current events can become _today_ in a very short time, even though we have instant verification processes like video cameras, Skype, and on-the-scene news teams within minutes of any event on the planet? And do you know why? Of course you do. People see and remember things differently. People often remember events the way they want to or the way they are told to. Sometimes they distort them deliberately and sometimes it's completely innocent.

One thing is for certain: it always happens. Urban legends become urban legends because they are really cool stories and there is something inside all of us that wants to believe in wondrous, exciting, and magical events. We want our heroes to have been really heroic. Have you ever heard the one about Mr. Rogers, the mild-mannered children's show host? He was a U.S. Navy SEAL. A sniper of some sort during the Vietnam War who killed lots of enemy soldiers. Mr. Rogers? Part of the legend was that he always wore cardigan sweaters to cover the tattoos on his arms. People—smart and well-educated people—repeated this one like it was... well... gospel truth. It wasn't.

What if... what if... there were some chroniclers of Jesus's life who were well-meaning, but doing the exact same things the Mr. Rogers chroniclers managed to pull off? Is it possible that those kinds of shenanigans were going on back in 70 CE? What if it turns out that Doubting Thomas Jefferson nailed it, and Jesus was just a gentle proponent of the golden rule? What then?

I'll tell you what then. It wouldn't have caught on. It would have been like a really boring G-rated movie. It would have been a series of sermons on why we should just all try to be nice to each other. The New Testament would have been nothing more than a first-century self-help book. I would wager that Jesus would have been much less popular than Mr. Rogers.

Promises like a place called "heaven" _had_ to be made. Threats and consequences like "eternal damnation" had to be part of it to give it force and power. The all-powerful God had to be appeased. This had to be the real deal—something people didn't really see as having an option about believing. There had to be terrible consequences for non-believers. Because, ultimately, Christianity comes down to a lot more than just believing in doing what Jesus said was right and just. What makes it so successful is the concept of signing on to his truth or your consequences. _Believe it or not_ was turned into _believe it or else._

It's all the _or else_ crap I have a problem with.

There are more "or else" sins identified by the Catholic Church than you can shake a stick at. All of them will get you in trouble, and some of them will earn you an eternal pitchfork where the sun doesn't shine. But the one to really watch out for is the one you could not have had anything to do with. I speak, of course, of "original sin."

You see, every bad thing that has ever happened to anyone (I do not include dinosaurs as "anyone") is a direct and proximate result of Eve's apple caper. We suffer and die (everyone suffers and everyone dies, no matter how good we are) because of Eve. We can never undo her sin insofar as the time we spend here on earth. And it gets worse.

From the moment you are born, you are doomed to spend forever _after_ you die in hell, unless you cleanse yourself and apologize with magic words for Adam and Eve's sin. This must be done in the officially sanctioned Catholic way.

How unfathomably stupid is that? I submit that is Governor Rick Perry stupid.

Adam was the first man; ergo, _his_ was the "original sin." All the sins that followed (torture, genocide, raping children) were small-time and insignificant compared to the apple sin. This was the sin of disobedience to arbitrary and capricious (think _The Village)_ rules. The first "because I said so" sin. And even if you have been leading a good, kind, and decent life, but you are living someplace where they never heard of any of this story, and no one got to your village to spread the good news/bad news about Jesus (good news: He came! Bad news: you are going to hell if you don't sign up!)—there are those who say you are going straight to hell because somebody ate an apple a long time ago, and you are on the wrong belief team.

But if you go to church and say magic words and magic words are said back to you by an officially sanctioned spokesperson (women are not allowed to perform this ritual and will be excommunicated for trying to help save you) you get to go to heaven and possibly have dinner with Jesus and play golf. That will take care of the Original Sin problem.

Also, it really doesn't matter what you did or how many times you did it. Murder, rape, torture, and child abuse can all be forgiven if you buy a get-of-hell card from your local Catholic church by joining and saying magic words. The Original Sin problem is much easier to take care of as long as you happen to live in a part of the world that has a neighborhood Catholic dispensary of magic holy water. This magic water washes off Adam's original sin that you didn't know you were carrying around. Also, keep in mind (this one still scares me to this day) that Dracula is not real impressed with Buddhist chants when he comes calling in the middle of the night.

The following is a multiple-choice test for Catholics which I am hereby suggesting should be handed out at every Sunday service from now on:

**1)** Which of the following may get you into enormous trouble with God and possibly sent to hell with absolutely no time off for good behavior?

**(A)** Masturbation (either more than one hundred thousand times, or less than five) (16)

**(B)** Blasphemy (e.g., saying "Goddamn it" after a shank)

**(C)** Getting divorced from a compulsive wife-beater who uses a baseball bat and has put you in the hospital multiple times

**(D)** Using a condom to prevent the spread of HIV

**(E)** Anger and hatred... e.g., a father's anger about Oliver O'Grady raping his daughter and the Church protecting him

**(F)** Getting killed by a falling meteor if you are a member of the pigmy tribe living in the Congo and never heard of Jesus Christ

**(G)** All of the above

**2)** In the last question examples were given of

**(A)** Oliver O'Grady, who raped hundreds of children, who was moved around from parish to parish facilitating, his pedophile proclivities; he was subsequently bought off by the hierarchy of the Catholic Church to keep him quiet about _their_ involvement

**(B)** a pigmy who led a virtuous life and died suddenly without ever hearing about Jesus Christ.

Assume that O'Grady said he was sorry at confession. Which one gets into heaven?

If you answered _all of the above_ to question 1, and you correctly picked A in question 2, and you actually believe that nonsense, then there is a good chance that when aliens come to our planet to assess whether you qualify as a higher life form, you will most likely be put in some kind of zoo exhibit with marmots.

You need to think about this: a bunch of sexually-repressed old men who wear dresses and have about as much experience in matters of sexual relations as I have in cold fusion experiments are telling the entire world about the proper way to have sex (the missionary position) and that it is evil unless it is your intention to further populate horribly overpopulated areas of the planet where they are already short of food. Haiti comes to mind. They are forgiving Oliver O'Grady for sodomizing eight-year-old boys because _God made him that way_ and he said the magic passwords _(I'm really sorry and I'll never do it again;_ he probably said that at least two hundred times before and after every child he raped and was forgiven every time) in confession. They are forgiving God for _making him that way._ And they are condemning the rest of the intelligent world for finding their dictates somewhat confusing and inconsistent. And you are giving them how much money a year to spend on robes, crystal castles, annuities for pedophiles, and salaries so they don't have to get a job like the rest of us?

On reflection, the marmot exhibit may be unfair. It would be like putting you in AP English before you learn how to speak. Marmots at least have the excuse that they have not yet evolved to a level where they can make moronic choices about what to believe.

There is much more to Catholicism, my Catholic friends tell me, than the ridiculous doctrines that I make fun of. Indeed, there is. There is much that is beautiful, kind, thoughtful, and ethically useful. Perhaps it is unfair to judge this ism by its absurd and hypocritical tenants and practices. And it is certainly wrong to condemn all priests for the abominations of Oliver O'Grady, or any of the thousands of pedophile priests who have preyed on Catholic children for centuries. Most priests, I imagine, are kind, decent, and caring humans, who work in their community, educate, and provide help for the poor. You would not cut down all trees just because some of them produced poisonous fruit. No, you would not. But you _would_ and _should_ warn humankind to steer clear of a tree that produced poison fruit that _looked_ sweet and edible. And that is exactly the problem with this ism.

Catholicism was conceived as a system of beliefs that _men_ decided was necessary to control what other men thought about. It forbids the sheep to explore what is outside the pen. The guardians of Church dogma are like the Border collie that barks, bares its teeth, and threatens those sheep that would wander off to see what is in areas that they are not allowed to be in. The kind of Catholicism that uses terror to keep the sheep in the pen is, I submit, is the arch-enemy of freedom of the mind. But if they are able to control how men, women, and children think, they can protect themselves from questions about the purchase of a Los Angeles architectural monstrosity while people are starving, or the decision to make Oliver O'Grady's retirement years more comfortable.

They need desperately to stifle questions about dogma that has more to do with the preservation of power than what is right and kind and decent.

The problem with the self-appointed guardians of Christianity is not just a problem with some of their stories and the fear that they purvey. The problem is identical to the problem with the system of government we call dictatorship. I imagine that not all dictators have been horrible people who murdered their citizens. There may have been some perfectly nice ones. But the worldview which says it is right to put absolute power over men's lives in other men's hands is flawed at its very core. And what ideology could bestow more absolute power than one that claims the power to condemn all those who do not adopt and believe in its absolute authority, to eternal damnation?

Our ability to reason, to question what is and decide what should be, is the most glorious part of what defines us as human. The religious isms promote obedience to a level far above reason and creativity. They are the enemy of reason. They demand obedience to doctrines that empower men to control other men's lives down to the smallest detail. Down to whether people use condoms to prevent the spread of a horrible disease. And just in case you are tempted to tell me that most good Catholics don't pay any attention to that silly rule (they don't), then I ask you: what gives them the right to decide which rules to follow?

However you are thinking about responding, I agree with you.

Church dogma promotes its own institutional power and moral authority above what is right. And that is why it protected, fed, paid, and facilitated the horrors perpetrated by Oliver O'Grady and countless others like him. The Church claims a God-given monopoly with regard to authority to _define and decide_ what is right. And that authority—that obscene tyrannical power is the most important linchpin of its existence. You see, this ism, by its very nature, empowers monsters like Oliver O'Grady. Because if the ultimate moral authority to a little boy is his other "Father," who is right next to God and Jesus, and questioning the ultimate moral authority can land you in hell, and if you are eight years old, then you are damn well defenseless against evil when it comes for you.

I conclude that it is absolutely and inescapably fair to judge this ism by the evil that men have spent centuries sewing into its fabric. Because if you take away that fabric... if you take away the silk robe dipped in blood... if you take away the fear and the terror of eternal hell, then you take away its power over the defenseless children.

Kindness, goodness, and love won't cut it. Kindness, goodness and love have never been what made this _ism_ work. The force and power of fear has always been the feast that feeds this beast. "Be good" just wasn't enough to keep _them_ in power and to give _them_ their moral authority. "Be good _or else_ " is what they are about. "Be good or else" is the core principle of this ism. And it is always fair to judge an ism by the beliefs that are at its core.

**The Voice of God**

What does the voice of God sound like, anyway? I imagine it to be a deep baritone. I'm not sure about the accent. Could be British or it could be New England. I doubt very seriously that it is Alabama or New Jersey. But what if it was? What if the Voice of God sounded like Joe Pesci in _My Cousin Vinnie?_ Can you imagine what a shock that would be? _Youse gotta tell da yutes t' show some respectfulness._

I hear a voice when I ask for guidance as to whether I can carry the water at two hundred yards and reach the green on a par five. I usually hear it say, "Go for it, sissy boy. You didn't come here to lay-up, did you?" It sounds like God, but it's only Charlie egging me on. I reach 20% of the time. It only happens when I get a mysterious, heaven-sent tailwind. The other times, I wind up in a position where a snorkel would be helpful.

I wonder what it sounded like when Michelle Bachman, Herman Cain, Rick Santorum, Mike Huckabee, Sarah Palin, George W. Bush (who also heard the voice tell him to invade Iraq), and Pat Robertson all heard that voice of God say he would back their candidacy for president.

There are many other people who say today that they hear the voice of God or Jesus. Some of them have murdered children. There is a split of authority over whether acting orders from God or Jesus is still a viable defense. It is a fact that a fair number of people claim to hear God tell them to do very bad things.

My informal survey of these voice-of-God-induced atrocities revealed that God is way ahead of Satan when it comes to people claiming they were inspired to do horrible things. This is particularly true with regard to parents who murder their own children. Rarely does anyone claim "the Devil made me do it." It happens, but my guess is that the Devil claim is seen to be somewhat lacking in credibility. God, on the other hand, has a long tradition of encouraging people to murder children. You could say that the Biblical tradition relating people being told to slaughter children by the scores was just the way it happened _back then._ We can all agree it was very old school.

Whenever it is said to have happened in olden days, people like Tremper Longman III and Eugene Merrell will tell you it was God _actually speaking._ Moses and Joshua were good God-fearing soldiers following direct orders. Same goes for Abraham with Isaac. Following orders was never called into question back then as a viable defense. It was the _ultimate_ defense.

Joshua, you killed everything that breathed. It wasn't necessary after the white flag went up. How do you plead?

Your Honor, I plead not guilty by reason of following God's orders.

All right then. Case dismissed. Joshua, you are hereby declared MVP of God's Slaughtering of Innocents Team. This beautiful trophy showing a Canaanite infant impaled on the end of a spear will be presented to you at the awards banquet by Tremper Longman III and Eugene Merrell.

I should probably apologize for that, but I won't. They have it coming. I should tell you, though, that after reading their drivel about the wondrous Lake of Fire and the necessity of killing children, I went on YouTube to get a look at them. I have this need to look at people that espouse maniacal mantras. It's always disappointing. Like Jeffrey Dahmer, they looked disturbingly normal.

That's what I find so scary every time. The calm banalities of men who will tell you that the children sometimes need killing. I find that so much scarier than a guy on a PCP/crystal meth horror high. I wondered what Tremper Longman III would do if he heard the Voice tell him to take one of _his_ sons up to the nearest sacred mountaintop and burn him to toast to prove his love of Jesus.

It's a hypothetical. It's allowed. No fair responding that God would never do that, because, remember, the Lord always works in mysterious ways and you already told us that children will have to be thrown in the Lake of Fire at the end of days. How about one of yours, Tremper? Let's say your son turns to Buddhism or some other God-forsaken worldview. Are you going to follow orders from the guy in the blood-soaked robe to give him a push? It's a fair question. Orders from on-high are orders that need to be obeyed. Don't you dare ignore this one. Your son might like to know. Ask him.

Or would it be easier for the believers to push my kids? My kids aren't believers. You can't expect the guy in the red robe to do everything. Even God needed help in Canaan. What we are going to need is another Joshua. I suspect a lot of children are going to need pushing because that's what it sounds like, using the happy understanding of Revelation.

I think the true believers would do it. I don't think they would hesitate. Because they are the worst kinds of willing henchmen. They are the ones who check their brains at the door, surrender their reason to ideology, and drink the Kool-Aid. I should tell you that Tremper Longman wrote me that he believes that we are living in an age of spiritual warfare and that all violence is now wrong. That's what he said. I can't quite figure out how that squares with the upcoming lake of fire genocide festivities that will take care of the non-believers once and for all.

On Judgment Day all bets are off.

But I was musing about the Voice. The one that sometimes tells people to do horrible things. How is one to tell if it's the real Voice or a psychotically-inspired synthesizer? If Staff Sergeant Robert Bales raised the defense at his trial for killing seventeen men, women, and children in Afghanistan, is there anyone with half a brain who would buy it?

You heard a voice that told you to kill all those people? A Voice?

Well, here's the question: why wouldn't you buy it if you were on the jury? Are you going to tell me that some people who proclaim they hear the voice of God are suffering from brain damage, post-traumatic stress syndrome, psychosis, or are just plain lying? How about a mother who stabs her three children and claims _they_ were possessed by the devil and Jesus told her to do it? You couldn't find a jury dumb enough to buy that defense in... well, even in Texas. They would vote to either (a) put her away in a loony bin—or, more likely, (b) execute her as quickly as possible, chanting, "Don't mess with Texas!" Because common sense and reason tell them that God does not go around telling women to stab their babies.

But here is the kicker. Those same twelve people from Texas (I am assuming a dispassionate and fair jury of good Christians) do not, and would never think to, question Joshua and Moses slaughtering everything that breathed, claiming they were following God's direct verbal orders. Because that was different. It just was. It's in the Bible.

Sgt. Bales would get convicted. The insane mother would get convicted. But the mass murderers of Biblical times _would get a parade_ and a key to the city of Dallas with Cowboys season tickets. Why? Because the Bible murders were orders from God. Everybody knows that.

Why is it that anyone who believed that a murderer today was acting on God's orders would be considered a fool? But when hundreds of millions of people believe God gave Joshua orders to kill children they are considered to be ordinary religious folks? Have a trial today where the murders of children in the Bible are at issue. Put fifty thousand Evangelicals in a big jury box. Use Cowboy Stadium. You are going to get a unanimous ruling of not guilty without a discussion. Why isn't that fifty thousand times more incomprehensible?

Let's have another little thought experiment. Assume someone who you trust and respect very much is taking a walk with you over a beautiful bridge that spans a two hundred-foot-deep gorge. This is person has never—and you can't conceive that he would _ever_ —deliberately misled you. Let's further assume he is your priest or minister. You have known him for decades.

Halfway over the gorge he turns to you and says, "I want you to trust what I am about to tell you. I love you and I would never mislead you. I am a prophet of God and God wants you to step off of this bridge. You will not fall. You will, instead, be able to walk out on to what appears to be thin air and walk to the other side."

Would you take that step?

You would not, regardless of how much you loved or trusted the person making the suggestion. You know that. The question I have for you is a very simple one: why _wouldn't_ you? It's fine to say you believe in God and Jesus, but what would you do when the rubber meets the road? The answer is, of course, that your knowledge and experience with the laws of gravity would overcome your trust in your friend and in what your friend says that God wants you to do. Or what you even may _think_ God wants you to do.

You know that you would most likely conclude that your friend had suffered a stroke or had a brain tumor. There are no circumstances under which you would buy into it. (The jury is out on the people who voted for Michelle Bachman.)

I know you are with me so far. The trap is so obvious that you must see it coming.

Why, then, would you believe as _absolute truth_ something that was written two thousand years ago, sixty to ninety years after the events the authors recount (and were changed and translated hundreds of times by hundreds of scribes) describing events that you would never believe even if the same friend who would never lie to you told you he personally witnessed it all happen in the Safeway parking lot? You simply would not believe descriptions of raising the dead and walking on water and virgin births if they happened today without seeing them for yourself. And you would conclude it was a trick, an illusion, or a result of a brain infarction or that somebody slipped LSD in your Bud Light _even if you did see them yourself._

Because you know that those things just don't happen.

If you see David Copperfield walk on water or fly through the air, you don't for a second assume he really did either. You may have not the slightest idea how he did it, but that doesn't stop you from concluding that _it really didn't happen the way you think you saw it._ People can't fly.

If your minister or priest told called you and told you that the dead were, at that very moment, rising up from the graveyard behind your church, would you believe it? Or would you have to see it for yourself _before_ you believed it? You might _desperately_ want to believe it, but would you really accept it? I think you would have grave (ha!) doubts. I think you would be _skeptical._ Your first instinct might be that he had lost his mind. Because you know for certain that the dead stay dead. You know that. You can talk to them all you want. But when they start talking back, it's time to check what exactly it is that you were smoking. You probably wish it weren't so, but you know that it is.

And you would be even less likely to be interested in his tale if he handed you some old book somebody unknown wrote describing the same events.

So, explain to yourself your faith in the old book called the Bible. Why do the preposterous and impossible events described in an old book carry so much weight? Why do you accept the wanton depravity of the things that were sanctioned by God? Of course, some may counter, _Why do you believe what you read in an old history book? You didn't see the Civil War, did you, smarty-pants?_

That's true. I didn't. But wars are part of the human experience. Things—horrible things—happen that do not violate the laws of science, nature, and common sense. The dead did not rise after the Battle of Gettysburg. And if I read _that_ account in a history book, I would reject it immediately. So would you.

Don't you find it strange that God and/or Jesus have not publicly intervened a single time in the horrors that have been perpetrated since Christ died two thousand years ago? But what about the earthquake survivor who is found by a search-and-rescue dog after a week buried in rubble? Everyone has seen the relative interviewed on CNN thanking God and proclaiming that it was a miracle. What about _those_ miracles?

Am I the only one who sees that story and asks about the thousands of his neighbors who were crushed or suffocated or died of thirst waiting for their miracle that never came? If God had His reasons for saving one person and was acting mysteriously when it came to the children who He left to suffer and die in the rubble, could somebody just one time do a follow-up story on how the guy who was rescued went on to save the world? I think we should be giving thanks and praising the glory of the search-and-rescue dog. There _is_ an explanation as to why the lone survivor was found. It has to do with Rex the rescue dog, his training, where he was put to search and the fact that the survivor was in the right place where he could be rescued.

It is an explanation that is similar to the one for the woman who wins the Power Ball jackpot and the one hundred million players who do not. God did not invent or intervene in a Powerball game. God did not intervene in the closing seconds of a Denver Broncos game on behalf of Tim Tebow.

It is the delusion of people believing in miracles that needs explaining. That's the _real mystery. If you want to talk about mysterious ways,_ consider how their minds work. That, my friend, is what is mysterious.

And I suppose there are those who would say that the sheer number of people worldwide who believe in the God of the Bible and the divinity of Jesus is itself strong evidence of its intrinsic truth. _So many_ people accept it. There may be more than a billion of them. It must be true.

Let me ask you this: is English the one true language? More than 1.5 billion people speak English, a language from a little island where they do unspeakable things to fish and potatoes. How can _that_ be? How did _that_ happen? Should we conclude that English is God's language just because it _caught on?_ Or are there some very good historical reasons involving ships and military power and international commerce? Does God speak English when he tells people to do things that repulse us... the things that we would reject as being God's commands without a second thought? How can we be so sure that David Koresh and Jim Jones weren't real prophets and that Moses was? Maybe all those dead children really _were_ vessels for the devil and _needed_ to be destroyed.

Do you want to consider that for a moment? Probably not.

Ron and Dan Lafferty were true believers in what they thought was orthodox Mormonism. The _real_ Mormonism the way Joseph Smith taught it. One day, they heard the voice of God. Or they talked to a guy who claimed he heard the voice of God. It's not that important to nail that fact down, and it's unclear from the trial who exactly heard the voice of God—but somebody did. What _is_ important is what somebody claimed God said needed to be done.

Brenda Lafferty was Dan and Ron's sister-in-law, married to their brother Allen. It seemed that Allen wanted to take a second wife and follow in the exact footsteps of Mormonism's founder, Joseph Smith. Brenda refused to allow it and left him. Brenda had an infant daughter named Erica. Brothers Ron and Dan, acting on what they were absolutely certain were God's direct (or indirect, depending on which version you read) orders, slaughtered Brenda and her baby to teach them a lesson about Scripture and Godliness. With a butcher knife. Mother and daughter were butchered.

So what? They were nuts. Madmen. Psychopaths. Morons who were off the Mormon reservation.

Maybe. Maybe not.

One thing is for absolutely certain: they were either acting on God's orders or they weren't. About this one there is no alternative version. No third option. Now, I want you to get a hold of the interview that _Dateline_ did with them in jail. Look into the eyes of the Lafferty brothers. Stare into the face of evil incarnate, if you dare.

Did you do it? Tell me if I am wrong here. You didn't see anything particularly scary. They could have been the two guys who built your deck. You wouldn't think twice about having them in the house on their lunch break. They were pretty matter-of-fact about everything. Even the part where they said why they did what needed to be done. That about sums it up. They did what they _believed_ needed be done. That's really all there is.

A Mormon jury convicted them. They need to ask themselves why they didn't even have a little reasonable doubt about who was behind those murders and why they rejected the Lafferty brothers explanation.

Let's go back to my either/or proposition. They were either acting on God's orders or they weren't. Now let's go back to Abraham, Moses, and Joshua. Let's assume they did what the Bible says they did. Assume these were actual historical events. And there is a very good chance that much of that horror really happened. It has happened god knows how many other times. Here's the problem: either God told them to do those things—slaughter everything that breathes, including babies... or he didn't.

If he didn't, then there isn't much of difference between Moses and the Lafferty brothers, now is there? You can't get away from that one no matter how hard you try.

But if we take that one little assumption away about those things having actually happened, I suppose there could be more to it. It could be that somebody thought telling the story that way would put the proverbial _fear of god_ into the people and make them more like sheep. Or it could be that it did happen and that somebody thought they needed to _justify_ what was done to the innocent children of Canaan and Midian. What then?

Of course, it isn't fair to hang the Lafferty brothers' murder spree on the altar of Mormonism, any more than we would blame Christianity for the murders perpetrated by Timothy McVeigh just because he was part of the Christian Identity Movement, which believes that God is against income taxes and federalism. There are always going to be crazies out there who hear voices and have nutty experiences that no one else has. And I suspect that every religion that ever existed was begun by one guy who claimed to see and hear something that nobody else could see and hear.

Of course, these experiences always seem to happen when the self-proclaimed prophet of God is alone. In the history of the world, I cannot find a single instance where God spoke to two prophets at the same time. When you think about it—why not? What could have been more convincing than two brothers sitting on a tree stump, drinking Bud Light, and God tells both of them to go forth and bring His message to the people? _Together._ It's always one guy. Interesting, isn't it?

And, for some reason, we often reach the conclusion that most of these prophets—who claim to hear voices that can only be heard by _them_ and claim to have invisible special friends—also have short circuits in their motherboards. But if not—if the gods really are talking to them—why is it, I wonder, that the gods are so shy and only have the inclination to speak to one person at a time and hope that it spreads?

Why doesn't God ever call a press conference or use a big honking megaphone in the sky and say something like, "Listen up people, this is God! I know when you are sleeping. I know when you're awake. I know when you are bad or good, so be good or I'm going to send you all to bake!"

I mean, He could if He wanted to, couldn't He? This is the same exhibitionist who parted the Red Sea. How come He _always_ seems to pick one strange guy with a beard, who spends most of his time with sheep, to tell us what He is thinking? How are we supposed to tell if the guy is really speaking in _His_ name? Why does He do that, I wonder? I mean, it could be that it's because it's more sporting that way. It's possible.

Maybe there are lots of gods and they periodically pick some schmuck, talk to him and scare him half to death, and then take bets on how many people he can accumulate for the new cause. You have to admit, if you were a god, that would be pretty entertaining. Maybe there is a Las Vegas in the sky where they take bets and give odds. Now _that_ makes some sense. _That_ is a reasonable explanation.

I wonder what the over/under would have been on Joseph Smith, Jr.? He invented Mormonism. Here is what Smith said that a god (who I imagine had a terrific sense of humor and got terrific odds) revealed: Joseph Smith said that he was paid a visit by an angel named Moroni (I called him Macaroni earlier and I apologize for being a wise-ass) on September 21, 1823. It is unclear whether this angel was of Italian decent. Moroni sounds Italian to me. I'm betting his first name was Anthony. It doesn't matter.

Anthony Moroni was a speaking dead-guy angel-type who told Smith he had been killed in a pre-Columbian battle with the forces of darkness and had since been very busy writing a new, definitive Bible about Jesus and God, which he had engraved onto golden plates. I think it is important to give you Smith's exact words as to what transpired.

_Moroni, the person who deposited the plates, from whence the book of Mormon was translated, in a hill in Manchester, Ontario County, New York, as a resurrected being, appeared unto me, and told me where they were; and gave me directions how to obtain them."_ (Smith 1838b pp. 42–43)

For those of you who doubt the veracity and sanity of this account, you can go see, examine and read about the rigorous scientific testing on those plates, any time you want at... Just kidding. No, you can't. They _mysteriously_ disappeared after Smith transcribed them into the Book of Mormon.

Can you imagine? Their disappearance may be proof positive that they really did exist. How could you make something disappear that never existed in the first place? You shouldn't spend too much time thinking about that. If you found yourself nodding affirmatively to that logic, please refrain from operating farm machinery. Maybe breeding wouldn't be such a good idea, either.

Actually, Smith told everybody that they were only on loan from the Angelic Lending Library and that the angel Moroni wanted them back. So, the mysteriousness really involves figuring out why Moroni was such a stickler about limiting the amount of time they could stay here on Earth. I mean, think how much easier Joseph Smith's job would have been if Moroni had left the tablets with him. He could have set up a roadside museum on I-95. And think about how many more babes Smith could have banged. _Hey, sweetheart, want to take a peek at my tablets?_

Anyway, the Book of Mormon is what Smith's followers believe is the new and vastly improved Word of God. In the new and improved version, things happened a little differently than in the old version, which all those silly superstitious and gullible pre-Mormon Christians believed was the actual true account of the way all the important stuff about Jesus came to pass.

It turned out that Jesus was a traveling man. Sometime after he came back from the dead, Jesus came to... America! It is unclear exactly how he got here, but for somebody who comes back from the dead, that should have been child's play. Before he got here, there were other old-world Biblical types who took up residency way before Columbus. Those people were the Nephites (the good guys) and the Laminites (who turned out, centuries later, to be the bad guys).

While Jesus was here, they got along splendidly and continued to live peacefully for a few hundred years. But then they had a disagreement and war broke out. Unfortunately, the Laminites won. In the process, they killed Moroni, who would later come back and chat with Joseph Smith as an angel.

In case you are wondering how you could tell the difference between the descendants of the Nephites and the descendants of the Laminites, Smith tells us it was a piece of cake. Nephites were easy to spot because they were white and Laminites were not so white. That would include—but not be limited to—Native Americans and other _dark-skinned people,_ a.k.a. non-whites. This just might explain the paucity of people of color in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.

If you are wondering if I am making this shit up, think again. That's what it says. There is, of course, not a scintilla of archeological or anthropological evidence for any of this nonsense, but that does not concern the Mormons, because everyone knows that "that kind of so-called science evidence" is made up by people with an agenda and can't be trusted anyway. Unlike the stuff that was on the golden tablets. The ones that disappeared and Moroni said we weren't allowed to see.

But wait... it gets better. In addition to the other divine inspirations revealed _only_ to Joseph Smith was the divine commandment that he marry and have sex with multiple women. Lots and lots of women. Up to thirty, by some accounts.

Now, as a formally single guy who was often on the prowl, I have to admit that Smith's approach was one I never would have had the balls to use in a bar. _Hey, cutie. I'm God's prophet and I... I mean He wants me to bang you till you scream tonight_.

The source of this divinely-inspired philandering was said to be... you guessed it... none other than Jesus Christ. Smith explained in a letter to Brigham Young:

[I]t is Jesus Christ will, that in time, ye should take unto you wives of the Laminites and Nephites that their posterity may become white, delightsome, and Just, for even now their females are more virtuous than the gentiles.

The Book of Mormon goes on to explain that when Native Americans receive the gospel, they will become a "white and a delightsome people."

In defense of modern day Mormons, they have discredited polygamy and decided that the prophet of God might not have heard correctly when he _thought_ he heard God tell him to bang as many women as he could. Turns out that there are people who specialize in Mormon apologetics—and, to their credit, they don't try to play any retrospective semantic games. They came up with a brand-new theory that states the prophets occasionally make mistakes. I guess that is because God is so infinitely intelligent that it is hard to understand what in the hell He is talking about sometimes. Not bad.

Joseph Smith could have, I suppose, misunderstood God saying He wanted Smith to get to know as many women as possible as "get to know in the Biblical sense." It's a mistake anybody could have made. Could have been that Jesus was speaking in a New Jersey accent.

There are cynics who claim that it did not take long for the Mormons to figure out that having scores of wives isn't anywhere near the fun that men expect them to be because they gang up on you.

Anyway, Mormon doctrine has been amended... by Mormon people... and the part about having lots of obedient wives is no longer part of it. But it _was_ part of it. No getting around that one. And no getting around the conclusion that if Joseph Smith came on the scene for the first time today talking about Laminites, Nephites, Jesus in America, and celestial commands to know women in the Biblical sense, he would be committed. Or be a viable Republican candidate for President of the United States. I'm not sure which, because as I write this, Mitt Romney recently received 47% of the popular vote for President of the United States. But, like I said... the Mormon Church today no longer believes in polygamy. They are as rational as any other religious folks.

All of this brings be back to musing about the Lafferty brothers, who murdered a woman and her infant daughter because the God of Mormon ordered them to do so. Mormonism is not to blame. It's just that if you are raised to believe that God can talk to you and give you direct orders and that the greatest prophets who ever lived were, in fact, told to do stuff that ordinary people might consider to be completely psychotic, is it any wonder that the nutcase morons, who fail at just about everything else in life, get really inspired by these stories of conversations with Jesus and orders from on high to kill babies? I mean, if God told Joshua to kill everything that breathes, why is it so hard to imagine Him telling the Lafferty brothers to engage in a little selective butchery?

Incidentally, you can watch the cult leader of a Dallas Baptist mega-church (I probably didn't even need to mention the Dallas part) named Robert Jeffress on YouTube saying that everybody who doesn't believe what he believes is going to straight to hell. Governor Rick Perry proudly had Jeffress introduce him at a Values Voter Summit in Washington, D.C., when Perry was running for president, before he forgot what agencies he was going to cut. They are buddies. Jeffress called Mormonism a "cult" and urged people to vote for Rick Perry shortly after the latter called a special mega-prayer meeting in Cowboys Stadium to pray for rain. Can't say that Jeffress and I disagree about Mormonism.

Here is the Final Jeopardy! category. It's called "The End of the World for $1000." Assume a president who believes in the biblical prophecy about the Great Lake of Fire Massacre. Here is the setup: One night, very late, he hears the Voice telling him that the Premier of China is the Antichrist and that he must take immediate steps to kill everything that breathes over there. He is thinking about it.

It occurs to me that we can logically lay out all the possibilities for the Voice and the president. Here they are:

**1.** The President has lost his mind.

**2.** The President really heard the Voice. If so...

**a.** The voice is being pumped into his head by people within his administration who have their own agenda.

**b.** The voice really is the Voice of God.

Next questions:

**1.** Is a president who truly believes that God gives specific orders at different times in human history more likely to launch a preemptive nuclear (or even worse a _newculer)_ strike than a president who has never and never expects to hear the Voice?

**2.** Is the President who heard the voice going to call on a guy like Robert Jeffress to counsel him and then hit the launch button?

Final question: Should Wolf Blitzer be asking these guys what they will do if they hear the Voice? I would sure like to know before I vote. I would sure like you to know before you vote.

**God-Fearing**

Just in case you didn't know, the New Testament was patched together at the First Council of Nicaea in 325 CE. There were all kinds of gospels and commentaries flying around by then and somebody had to make decisions about editing and whose versions would make the final cut. This was the beginning of the Catholic Church. _Men_ doing editing, cutting, and pasting. _Men_ deciding _which versions_ were the best. _Men_ deciding 325 years after the death of Christ what really happened and what other men _should be required to believe_ in order to stay out of hell. _Men_ discussing the idea of divinity. _Men_ deciding things like the role of women in the new church.

There were no official notes taken of the proceedings or of the votes cast by the men who were there, but it is pretty safe to assume that those in attendance realized that the Good Book had to have a climactic ending and Revelation therefore made the cut. Again, think of a movie script meeting with alternative endings. Imagine one where Christ says the wonderful things that Jefferson lays out. Then it ends with, _and so I say to thee... go forth and be kind._ It would have bombed on opening night. A good director understands drama and what the people like to see. I can almost hear him _—Give me death! Give me destruction! Give me horror and robes dipped in blood and monsters with seven heads and more horror. How about a lake of fire? Can we do that? Then give me a guy on a white horse to save the day! Then you can have your happy goddamn ending! Where is my goddamn latté?_

There are two ways of looking at the idea of the Antichrist. Revelation tells us that he will come as a false prophet. I happen to think they nailed that part. The Antichrist certainly qualifies as a false prophet. The Catholic Church will tell you that the Antichrist will lie about things that _they_ don't approve of. Things like birth control being a mortal sin because we have to populate the earth until there is no room left.

Speaking of which... I am about to tell you about something that may qualify me as a candidate for the position of Antichrist. I certainly hope so. The Scriptural basis for the Catholic position that anybody who engages in birth control is going to hell (how can anybody say that out loud without laughing is a complete mystery to me) is the story of Onan in Genesis. Onan had a brother named Er (whose last name could well have been Um, but I'm not sure about this one) who died because the Bible tells us he was evil. That's it. That's the whole explanation... he was evil and God terminated him, leaving behind a wife named Tamar (who, I surmise, but cannot prove, was a babe) who was childless.

Now, it seems that in olden days there was a strong tradition and moral obligation that required the brother-in-law to bang his sister-in-law when his brother passed on leaving her childless. This was not only thought of as proper... it was required behavior. Today, when a man fulfills his Biblical duty with his sister-in-law and gets caught, he is introduced to the quaint custom of a deposition at his wife's divorce attorney's office. But never mind. I digress. Onan did not mind having his way with Tamar in the least bit. However, he did have misgivings about impregnating Tamar, because a child would not legally be his heir. So we are told in Genesis—I am not making this part up—that Onan "spilled his seed on the ground." In other words, he withdrew on the paradise-stroke. This took more discipline than he was given credit for and, for some inexplicable reason, it pissed God off and He took Onan's life.

But herein lays the confusion. The Bible doesn't say a word about "Thou shalt not engage in birth control or "Thou shalt not spill thy seed on yonder holy ground" or anything like that. It doesn't explain at all why God was so pissed off. But the best explanation is that Onan did not fulfill his traditional duty to give his sister-in-law a child. That's a different kettle of fish entirely from not using birth control. It was not using birth control to complete this very specific obligation to knock up the babe Tamar that got him in hot water with God. And from this incredibly stupid story, the guys who would come to be in charge of the spiritual well-being of over a billion Catholics concluded that using a condom to prevent the spread of HIV was an offense punishable by eternal damnation.

Okay, all Catholic priests, cardinals, bishops and Pope Benedict. Step away from the pulpit. Put your hands in the air. Slowly. That's it. Now go over to the Glenn Beck chalkboard and write "stupid." Write it a billion times. Let me know when you have finished and what you have learned.

The Catholic Church will tell you that the Antichrist may be someone like Thomas Jefferson, who dares to speculate that Christ may have spoken of love and kindness without the terror, self-proclaimed divinity, or Revelation. The Catholic Church will tell you that those who ask questions about the slaughter of babies and innocents in the Lake of Fire, and urge _you_ to ask questions about it, are false prophets. The Catholic Church will tell you that I am in a shitload of trouble for telling you about Onan and writing this book. The Catholic Church demands obedient, submissive and docile minds. The Catholic Church is fond of sheep.

A common misconception and distortion circulated about the Catholic Church involves a misunderstanding of the concept of Papal Infallibility. Most non-Catholics believe that it means that Catholics think the pope is always right and acting in the name of God no matter what he does. Not true. That is not what it means. Otherwise, the multiple documented historical papal atrocities would have to be considered acts of God

Most of the documented papal sins can be forgiven because they were actually the work of Satan. This again raises the question of why God doesn't just kick the living shit out of him. I just can't figure it out. It seems that neither can anybody else.

But Papal Infallibility is something else entirely. Papal Infallibility was invented at the First Vatican Council in 1869 and states that the pope is infallible _in matters of dogma_ (tenets of belief and interpretations of church law). Anyone who disagrees with the pope on such matters is subject to "exclusion from the communion, the principal and severest censure, is a medicinal, spiritual penalty that deprives the guilty Christian of all participation in the common blessings of ecclesiastical society." In other words: excommunication, which means, pack up your rosary beads, you are out of here. Thrown out of the true Church of God. This is the most serious thing the Church can do to you. Unless you consider the various forms of torture that were imposed throughout history by the Church on its enemies and various people who disagreed with the pope. Sort of like what was done under Stalin, who believed in a different ism, but behaved in the identical fashion when it came to infallibility of _his_ understanding of communist dogma. You were simply not allowed to disagree with Stalin or the pope on these important matters of ism dogma. You were and are, required to have faith in your leaders.

Here are some examples of horrific crimes for which the Catholic Church has imposed its most serious punishment of excommunication:

In 2010, Father Vernon Meyer was excommunicated for his participation in the ordination of Elaine Groppenbacher in Tempe, Arizona. Ms. Groppenbacher is the type of human who must _never ever_ be allowed to receive the right of ordination. She is a woman. She menstruates. She and all her vile kind are being still being punished for Eve's apple snack. Women are therefore, not worthy enough to lead a service and preach about being good. This may strike many of you (and the entire population of the rest of the universe) as a stupid rule. But try not to be too judgmental. The Church has its reasons. The main reason is "because we said so." It is the same kind of deep understanding of the mind of God that led them to declare all forms of birth control to be abominations.

An _en masse_ excommunication was proclaimed by Bishop Fabian (Fabian?) Bruskewitz in March of 1996. He deep-sixed everyone who belonged to Catholics for a Free Choice, Call to Action, Planned Parenthood, and the Freemasons for promoting positions he deemed "totally incompatible with the Catholic faith." It is unclear what will happen to members of the Elks Club, The Shriners and Moose Lodge #4386.

The Archbishop of Olinda and Recife in Brazil announced the automatic excommunication of the mother and doctors of a nine-year-old girl who had an abortion after being raped and impregnated by her stepfather. There is no mention of what they announced about the stepfather.

All Bishops in China who joined the Chinese Catholic Patriotic Association and ordained bishops without the pope's approval were excommunicated.

The Catholic priest, Oliver O'Grady, called appropriately the Hannibal Lecter of pedophile priests, who, with help from his superiors in the Church, raped over one hundred-fifty children (some as young as nine months old) over a twenty-year span and spent seven years in jail, has not, as of this date, been seen as having committed offenses serious enough to warrant the punishment of excommunication. Actually, he has not even been defrocked. Instead, the Church spent approximately a hundred thousand dollars to reward Father O'Grady with an income stream to make his retirement years in Ireland more comfortable. And absolutely nothing has been done to Cardinal Roger Mahoney, who moved him from parish to parish, knowing what he was doing to children and enabling him to continue his child-raping. After seeing the error of his ways and apologizing for his sins, he was recently convicted in Ireland of possession of child pornography and, as of the date I write this, is serving a three-year sentence.

According to the John Jay report commissioned by the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops in 2004 as a result of the tidal wave of publicity surrounding the extent of the pedophilia problem among Catholic priests, between 1950 and 2004 there were 10,667 reported cases of abuse _in the United States._ And those are just the ones that were _reported._ It is safe to assume that were, in all likelihood, significant multiples of that number of victims whose abuse went unreported because of the humiliation and fear of the victims. Now, consider that there isn't a country in the entire world where the Catholic Church engages in the soul-saving business that has _not_ reported widespread sexual abuse by priests. Then consider that most in most third-world countries it is much less likely to be reported because of fear of what will happen to the victim is he or she goes public.

Is it safe to conclude that this is a Church problem of staggering proportions and that it has been going on and actively covered up for as long as the Church has been in the soul-saving business? This is not a trick question. It is safe to so assume.

Pope Benedict XVI, when he was Cardinal Ratzinger, transferred a serial abuser of young boys named Peter Hullermann, whose problem he had been made painfully aware of and failed to report the pedophile's activities to German police. This was not the only cover-up Pope Benedict XVI was involved in. A Wisconsin priest named Lawrence Murphy, who tended to a flock of deaf boys at the St. Johns School for the Deaf, was alleged to have molested up to two hundred of the boys. The Vatican refused to even hold a trial and allowed Murphy to go unpunished up until his death in 1998.

The Church is quick to point out that the percentage of _reported_ sexual abuse among its priests is probably no higher than the in the general population. That's their defense. But wait just a minute. Is that the frame of reference we want to use for the institution that claims to have exclusive moral authority to speak and act for God and Jesus Christ? _They are no worse, as a group, than anyone else? That's it?_ Well, for starters, I submit they probably _are worse._ Much worse. Because their victims are _much_ less likely to report abuse by a man who they have been told is acting on God's orders then those victims who are abused by a Boy Scout leader or a sports coach. The shame and confusion isn't close to being on the same scale. So common sense leads me to conclude the percentages are most likely much higher.

But even if they aren't, how about comparing them to other groups that are part of institutions that we have bestowed moral authority upon? Isn't that the frame of reference we should be using? How about the police departments or teachers? Are there teachers and policemen who are sexual predators? Of course there are. Now, can you imagine what would happen if it came to light that the numbers of victims of police and teachers approached even a tiny percentage of the numbers of victims of Catholic priests? Can you conceive of a cover-up of the proportion that has been going on for centuries in the Catholic Church in a school system or a police department? Can you conceive of a school board transferring pedophiles from school district to school district knowing that they will do it again and again? Or a police department? A police department or a school board would not be able to keep such things secret. They do not claim power of men's souls and they are not a law unto themselves. They don't have their own country run by a dictator. They do not have credibility to impose the threat of eternal damnation. Can you conceive of a school board buying an annuity for a serial pedophile teacher to keep him quiet or so he can live more comfortably and using _taxpayer money to do it?_ And wasn't the money used for Oliver O'Grady's annuity the exact equivalent of taxpayer money? Actually, it was far worse. Parishioners give to the Church because they are told they money will be used to do God's work.

Was this cover-up God's work? I suppose it's possible.

Let's revisit the critical thinking allegory of cherry-picking and rotten fruit. Perhaps apples would be more appropriate. I submit it is the intrinsic nature of this particular species of tree (the religion tree) to produce poisonous fruit. And while some trees may produce fruit that turns rotten and can make you sick, this tree is an evolutionary wonder. It produces fruit that looks identical to the good, nutritious fruit. It looks delicious and healthy and inviting. It beckons us to partake. And there is no way for our children to tell the difference until it is too late.

Would some good Catholic please take just a minute or two to explain all this to me? If you can't, would you be so kind as to tell me if it would be absolutely necessary to join the Catholic Church in order to get excommunicated? If I do have to join first, how do I go about it? Thanks.

**The Antichrists Really are Among Us**

I see things a little differently than the churches. You probably figured that out already. I think they are guilty of unpunished mass terrorism that has been going on for more than two thousand years. I think the Antichrists are the monsters that put and propagate the terror in the message of love and peace in order to compel obedience. I think that many of the churches are in the terrorism business. They spread their particular brand of terror with tales of hell and damnation. They don't just tell you to love your neighbor. They tell you to love your neighbor or else you will be burned for all eternity. I think that is far worse than threatening to kill you if you don't believe.

I think the Antichrists (they are legion) are the cardinals and bishops and popes who value obedience above all else.

It is an undisputable fact that the hierarchy of the Catholic Church aided and abetted in the rape of children and conspired to cover it up for centuries. Put a bunch of men together in a situation where they are told they can't ever have or even think about sex and you expect normalcy? This abomination isn't a close call. This isn't in dispute.

A "We're sorry" from the pope doesn't make it all better. Every murderer or sexual deviant who gets caught says he is sorry once his crimes have been exposed to the light. It is the mantra of the jailhouse convert to Jesus Christ. Prison guards will tell you that if you want to meet Jesus, the best place to go is a prison. He always seems to show up in the hearts of men when they are awaiting sentencing. But almost never before they commit the acts they are awaiting sentencing for. I wonder why they always seem to find Jesus _after_ they get caught and they are about to be sentenced to jail? Why didn't Jesus speak to Oliver O'Grady or Cardinal Mahoney or Benedict XVI _before_ all those children were raped? It's a fair question. And there is only one answer.

Sorry, but I'm not interested or impressed with Pope Benedict XVI's recent acknowledgement that his Church has had "a problem." His confession came after he and his cover-up legions were pulled screaming and kicking out of the darkness. There was no voluntary walk into the light. No sense of wrongdoing when they met in the bowels of the Vatican and discussed containment. They have been meeting and covering up for centuries.

Pope Benedict XVI did not do the right thing when doing the right thing would have prevented children from being abused. His loyalty wasn't to the God of love and righteousness. His loyalty wasn't to the children who put their faith in God in his hands. His loyalty was to the institution of the Vatican and protecting the false image of Church purity. Protecting its power over men's minds at all cost. Sacrificing children to pedophile priests was _necessary._ In the exact same way that it was necessary for the God of the Bible to order the sacrifice and slaughter of children. Pope Benedict XVI and Cardinal Mahoney are truly men of that God. I say his disingenuous confession/apology is bullshit. Damn him.

I would have been very interested to hear tapes of the conversations that went on about Oliver O'Grady. But those will never make the light of day. Those chats took place in some dark corner of the Catholic Church where evil grows and thrives.

Don't you dare shrug your shoulders and say, "Yes, well, but they do a lot of good, too." Of course they do. They run schools and hospitals and do some wonderful things in their communities. There are good priests who dedicate their lives to helping people. But would you shrug your shoulders and look the other way or turn the other cheek if it was _your_ child those in power helped defile? Would you shrug your shoulders if they paid a lifetime stipend to the monster who raped _your_ eight-year-old son? Is that what Christ was all about—or is that what you would imagine the Antichrist was all about?

I think the Antichrists have already been here. They were the men from the Catholic Church who brought hell to earth during the Inquisition in the name of Christ. I think the Antichrists are the men on cable television who accumulate vast fortunes from poor people who they extort contributions from with false promises of an imaginary afterlife, promises of wealth for prayer that they couple with threats of damnation. Men who spend that money they take in from their sheered flock on disgusting displays of opulence like the papal robes (which do look to me like they have been dipped in blood) and jewels and art and the recent purchase of the Reverend Robert Schuller's Donald Trump casino-style Crystal Cathedral (17), a Los Angeles mega-church for the staggering sum of fifty-five million dollars, while the faithful are starving and dying of AIDS in Africa—where Pope Benedict XVI says using prophylactics is a sin. Would it have been a sin for Oliver O'Grady to use prophylactics when he raping little girls? Would that have qualified as a sin for which he would have been excommunicated?

I think a real leader of the Church of Christ would act like the fictional pope in the novel _The Shoes of the Fisherman._ Give that staggering, obscene accumulation of wealth away to ease the suffering of the poor and oppressed. Dress in sackcloth and wear it until you die. Burn those goddamn obscenely expensive red robes and stop telling us how the extension of your financial empire, the hording of Crystal Cathedrals, art, condo projects, and hedge fund fortunes are forms of praise to the glory of God and Jesus Christ. Stop scaring children, for _Christ's sake. You_ hypocrites are the living Antichrists. That's what I think.

P.S., Just when you thought the priest child abuse cases couldn't possibly get any worse... at a trial in Philadelphia on March 2, 2012, of a monsignor accused of conspiracy and child endangerment for facilitating a priest's serial abuse of young boys, an internal church document revealed that the protected pedophile priest "joked about how hard it was to have sex with three boys in one week."
Notes

\- Where to start? Most of my Bible quotes were taken from _The New American Standard Bible: The Open Bible (Words of Christ in Red)._ The reason I chose that version is that it was on sale. There were so many cool ones to choose from. Plus the words of Jesus were in red. If any of the quotes from this one are mistranslations from the real words of God or Jesus, please write me and let me know immediately. You also might explain to me how you know your version is the real one. Then you should smack yourself on your forehead when it occurs to you that you have just made my point better than I ever could have.

\- For a brief article on attitudes regarding skin color in India and their origin in the Hindu caste system:  http://www.beliefnet.com/Faiths/Hinduism/2004/05/Are-Hindu-Attitudes-Towards-Race-Skin-Deep.aspx

\- If you become interested in the theodicy problem (why God didn't pound Satan into road kill if He is all powerful), I recommend my favorite book of all time, _Legion by William Blatty, who also wrote The Exorcist. Legion is a sequel to The Exorcist,_ and I am convinced that it was really just an excuse for him to delve into the whole theodicy question. He does a wonderful job and I have never been more moved to serious thought by any book I have ever read.

\- I also recommend his _The Ninth Configuration,_ which may contain the best argument for the existence of God ever written. Blatty, by the way, is very Catholic, very devout, and very smart. I can't think of anyone on the planet that I would rather spend time talking to. I really mean that. Bill, we come down on different sides of these issues but we should do lunch sometime.

\- If you prefer something else on this subject, I would point you to _Why Bad Things Happen to Good People_ by Rabbi Harold Kushner. It is highly thought of, has sold many copies, and is slightly more satisfying than and not nearly as offensive as _Show them No Mercy._ Speaking of which, I would recommend wading through it and _Is God a Moral Monster,_ rather than spending too much time being spoon-fed by Dawkins and Hitchens.

\- I used to pride myself on my cross-examinations of the top experts in all sorts of fields when I was a practicing trial lawyer and the best one I ever did consisted of one sentence. It went something like this: _Sir, I have listened carefully to everything you have said here today and I just have one question: are you serious?_ You should write these guys (Longman III, Merrell, and Copan) and ask them the same thing.

\- In rereading this chapter, I must confess that I was particularly harsh with Tremper Longman III. Here he is, sounding perfectly rational pontificating on biblical genocide on YouTube: <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4BqJvang_Ms> See what I mean? He seems like such a nice guy. The kind of guy I would like to have at a dinner party.

\- I have not seen any interviews with Adolf Eichmann, but I would be willing to bet than when he lectured his friends on the necessity for the "final solution," he sounded very calm and thoughtful about the necessity for genocide. I can't, for the life of me, figure out the difference between the bad genocide and the good genocide.

\- Revelation is very much the final solution of final solutions. Jews were the victims the first time around and Jews (the ones who refuse to be "perfected") will be the victims if the Evangelical dream comes true about the Lake of Fire party.

\- The Thomas Jefferson quotes are taken from and set forth nicely in a site complete with authorities at: <http://www.nobeliefs.com/jefferson.htm>

\- My admittedly harsh treatment of the Catholic Church should not be taken personally by Catholics. I could have just as easily gone after the Jews (come to think of it, I did... the Old Testament is their stuff), or the Muslims (but they are more likely to try to kill me than the Catholics). It's just that the Catholic Church, like Governor Rick Perry, is an institutional hanging curve ball out over the plate.

\- Also, there really isn't a benign side to what they have done to protect, aid, and abet their legions of pedophile priests. On this subject, I hereby declare that every Catholic on the planet, starting with Pope Benedict, should be required to watch the documentary _Deliver Us From Evil,_ a film directed by Amy J. Berg. It is about Oliver O'Grady, but it is also about how this religion gave him the apparent authority to defile children, and then did everything it could to preserve its false reputation at the expense of the innocent. Watch it a second time.

\- There has been so much written about the Catholic Church and its sordid history of pedophilia and cover-ups that it is difficult to know where to start. One of the best-researched books on this tragic topic is _Sex, Priests and Secret Codes, The Catholic Church's 2000 Year Paper Trail of Sexual Abuse by Thomas Doyle._ I also highly recommend _Under the Banner of Heaven_ by John Krakauer, an account of the Lafferty brothers and a good history of Mormonism and Joseph Smith. Now that I think about it, I recommend everything that Krakauer has ever written.

Eleven

Agnosticism and Atheism

I need to lighten up. My blood pressure reached dangerous levels while writing that last chapter.

Let's assume you had a friend who insisted on believing the dark side of the moon was made of green cheese. He wears a triangular hunk of plastic cheese on his head and also believes that Green Bay, Wisconsin, is a nice place to vacation in January. No matter what you say to him or how persuasive your argument is, he refuses to listen to any argument that calls his green cheese theory into question. He uses beautifully constructed logical arguments to defeat you at every turn. Like, "Oh, yeah? Well, you can't prove it isn't!" He is, of course, correct. It is hard to argue with that one. Or, "I read that it is _too_ made of green cheese in a very old book and my father and his father said so." Again, this makes perfect sense.

Now, assume an even more ridiculous belief system. Assume that there are actual people resembling humans (think of them being played in the movie by Tom Cruise or John Travolta) who belong to a church that believes—this is so silly that I can't believe I'm making this up just to make a silly point—that seventy-five million years ago, an alien named Xenu (I am unsure whether than is a phonetic spelling or that was how he signed his name on credit card receipts) transported billions of his people to our planet in a spacecraft that looked very much like a DC-8 from the 1950s. Then he lined them up around volcanoes and killed them all with hydrogen bombs.

These people were not happy at their fate and their spirits stayed around and are here today, bothering regular people, and that is the cause of all of our psychological and psychiatric problems. And if you give the church that knows about these spirits lots of your money—you _may_ , at this point, catch on to a recurring theme—they will help you rid yourself of these pesky spirits. Think of them as a new breed of exorcist.

This church says it is founded on solid _scientific_ principles and therefore calls itself the Church of Scientology. They are immediately granted tax-exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service.

I know what you are thinking. _Where do you come up with these insane ideas? That one is so stupid that I won't even bother to snort milk out of my nose. It's almost as dumb as the angel Moroni and Joseph Smith and the golden tablets, and a guy coming on a white horse wearing a robe dipped in blood with a sword sticking out of his mouth to save us. People don't actually believe in such nonsense!_

Oh, ye of little faith.

Okay. You try same kinds of logical arguments with this friend—let's call him Tom Travolta—to see if there is any spark of rationality left... but he is gone. He is starting to see the logic in Governor Rick Perry's political positions. You become so frustrated with this church's collective insanity that you want to do something important to convince people that they should not sign on or give them their hard-earned money. So you come up with a counter-ism to fight the stupid-ism.

A splinter group forms, consisting of people who are _really pissed_ at the idiotic belief systems all around them and they come up with a more extreme counter-ism. Wouldn't it have been simpler to just spend your time pointing out the silliness of the original ism?

Agnosticism and Atheism evolved to counter the religious belief systems of the day. Believers in these anti-ideas are all basically obsessed with developing philosophical approaches to people who believe in Santa Claus and his multiple manifestations.

Wait. Stop. Are you telling me that a philosophy and body of writing has evolved to debunk Santa Claus and the Cult of the Green Cheese?

I am. I agree that these people would find a better use of their time mastering the Canadian national pastime of curling, but they have chosen to go down this path instead. Here are some of the belief systems that have formed around the idea that craziness is well... crazy. I will attempt to explain them by assuming a belief system in God and Santa Claus who lives on the dark side of the moon where we can't see him and subsists eating a diet of green cheese... which explains his prodigious girth.

Gnostic Atheist

A guy who believes that there is no God for a fact and that Santa Claus never existed. These people have inside information and will spend hours proving to you that Santa Claus could not possibly get down your chimney to eat cookies.

Agnostic Atheist

A guy who doesn't believe in God or Santa Claus but has better things to do and wants to cover his ass just in case. He won't tell you he knows for certain because, philosophically speaking, he is a wuss.

Weak Atheist

This guy can't be bothered thinking too much about this stuff due to the fact that he is working overtime because his wife insists that he buy a lot of crap to put under the tree because she isn't buying the Santa Claus bullshit for a second and her six-year-old son will scream bloody murder if he doesn't get some video game involving Special Forces guys vivisecting each other. The weak atheist can often be heard muttering under his breath that he hates Christmas shortly after the tree that he has labored to get correctly into the tree stand (invented to frustrate non-believers), falls over killing his wife's poodle. Often mistaken for a namby-pamby agnostic (see below).

Strong Atheist

This guy lifts weights, and will beat the crap out of Santa Claus when he hears him say ho-ho-ho in a department store. He will also generally prevail in an argument with a weak atheist because he is bigger. Also known to knock Christmas trees over and leave cookies mixed with a strong laxative for Santa.

Namby-Pamby Agnostic

This guy goes around saying profound things like, "I'm just not sure..." He dresses in pastels and will take forever to read which way a putt breaks.

Situational Agnostic

This guy hangs out on Match.com and will claim to be very spiritual and also profess belief or disbelief in God or Santa in order to get laid. He will also attend a Baptist born-again prayer meeting if he thinks he can score.

Emotional Agnostic

This guy hyperventilates when he goes for his PSA test and very much wants there to be a God or Santa when he is worried about having knocked up his baby-sitter. He is a doubter most of the time, but will start whimpering if he suspects that Santa is delivering presents to believers only.

Foxhole Atheists

These guys believe in God when they get stuck in a foxhole while trying to retrieve a new Titleist golf ball that rolled in after a slice off the tee.

Cynical Phony-Baloney Believer But Really Agnostic

Anyone running for Congress.

Ignosticism

System of belief that evolved out of a philosophical gap in the field of agnosticism for a word that will not come up on spell check. Ignostics believe that definitions of God are unfalsifiable and that, therefore, theological noncognitivism would imply that inquiries into the notion of existence are essentially meaningless. Even leading ignostics have no idea what they are talking about. The truth is that the movement started after Seymour Lipshitz, a graduate of the Brooklyn School of Cogitation, was shunned at a regional agnostic's convention when the organizers refused to let him read from his thesis on God and bowling.

Anti-theism

Often confused with atheism, this belief system goes down a distinct philosophical road by substituting "anti" for "a."

New Age Vortex Agnosticism

The people are just plain often confused. They think Santa Claus was a Native American. They chant, wear Native jewelry made of turquoise (oblivious to the fact that the Native Americans import it from China), hang out in smelly sweat lodges without deodorant, listen to dopey flute music, and always vote for Ron Paul. They believe in vortexes where aliens have landed in the past, and often engage in sexual relations at those sites because they claim they can feel the vortex force on the paradise-stroke. They aren't sure about the God thing but they are drawn to movies starring Tom Cruise.

Golfing Atheists

This guy watches his opponent drain a forty-foot putt on the last hole to win the match and proclaims without reservation that there is no God.

Golfing Agnostics

This guy lips out a three-foot straight uphill putt and blows the match and proclaims that there may be a God but if there is, He isn't real thrilled with me.
Notes

\- There are none. I was just having some fun with my people.

Twelve

Making Sense

But don't you believe in anything?

Good question. I do. Actually, I believe very much in God. Go figure. But I believe in a God that _makes sense._ He is the mortal enemy of the gods of _nonsense._ In order to tell you about this strange and wonderful God, I need to tell you a little bit about science.

Let's start with a word. Reality. It probably doesn't need much of an explanation... that which is real. "Is" meaning exists, "real" meaning actually there. We need to go to physics class for just a moment or two.

**Physics and Evolution**

The great physicists have always searched for things that are the fundamental building blocks of the material world—of everything that is, of all matter and all that matters. Keep in mind that all stuff—even the stuff of us—is made up of subatomic stuff. It really is. That's what the most brilliant scientific and philosophical minds of the twentieth century were exploring. Figure out the nature and behavior of that stuff that makes up everything and you might get more than a glimpse at the face of God. You might be looking right at him.

Einstein, Bohr, Plank, Heisenberg, and Schrödinger were a few of the giants. They had absolutely no idea where the search was going to take them and when they got there, they were so shocked that they wound up arguing with each other for the rest of their lives. But they were never afraid to look. Or of what was real and what they might find. And they were never content to just accept old explanations. That is what made them such great men. They discovered things that were so astounding, so antithetical to everything we thought we knew, that not even they could make sense of their discoveries.

Human knowledge itself has yet to recover. What they found made almost no common sense. No one could figure out what it meant.

How many times have you heard someone say, "It all depends upon the way you look at things?" It turns out that one possible solution to our collective angst as humans may really be tied directly to that aphorism. It may be true in the physical world and in the world we struggle to make sense of. Because it turns out that _we make sense._ Stop and say that over and over again and see how many meanings you can come up with.

We make sense. We make sense. There is no "sense" without us.

Go back and look at the cover of this book. Look at it the first time and you may see the rabbit. Blink and it becomes a duck just as clearly. Now, ask yourself this question: _what is it really?_ What is it when we aren't looking at it? What is it when you turn your back and look at something else across the room? What then? Is it a duck or a rabbit once your back is turned? Or is it nothing but tiny laser dots on a page? An optical illusion?

Well, I'll absolutely guarantee you this. It isn't anything until somebody looks at it and _decides_ what it is. It is something that makes _no sense_ in and of itself until we look at it and _decide_ to make sense of i _t—to give it meaning._

And so it is with what we decide about the world and how it _should_ be _. We_ make sense.

That was the amazing conclusion that came out of the greatest discoveries in the history of science. You see, they found out that reality at the subatomic level doesn't exist in any particular form. There may not be any such thing. What is out there may depend on what is inside of you.

**The Light Fantastic**

Experimenting is how scientists prove things. I'm going to try to explain an experiment done in 1874 by a fellow named Thomas Young. This turned out to be a magical experiment that you can do at home with a laser pen and two pieces of cardboard. This isn't a trick. There has never been a sufficient explanation for this phenomenon since it was first described one hundred-forty years ago. No scientist can tell you why it happens. The best they can do is _describe_ what happens. It makes very little sense, but it happens every time, and everything we know about the way the world works would seem to be contradicted. And if you decide to do it... to see it for yourself... you will be privileged to get a glimpse at what could be the most important revelation that you will ever experience. A glimpse of the face of God.

But, first, let's agree on what we mean by "magic." Magic is usually thought of as an illusion that makes something that is known to be impossible seem possible. Real magic, however, would really make what we think of as impossible, really happen. It would contradict everything we think we know about how things work... or how the world really is. Walking on water would be real magic if it could be done without a solid platform just underneath the surface. We know that the laws of physics and gravity make walking on water impossible.

Let's start our magic trick with a drop of paint. Let's imagine it to be red. Now, pour a drop of the paint on any surface and watch what happens. The droplet hits the surface and immediately does something. Imagine the process is slow motion. You can see the size of the droplet of red paint. It looks to have a circumference of about a quarter of an inch. It hits the floor and spreads out and covering a larger area. This spreading-out phenomena isn't the mystery. It is well understood by science. It is the ability of certain kinds of matter—liquids, for example—to create disturbances that travel across distance through or over some kind of a medium. Liquid spreads out and covers more space in waves. It's cool when you stop and think about it, but we know that is the way liquid works. Liquids travel in waves. When you trip over Winston's water bowl, you will cause a wave that will spread over the kitchen floor and then, magically, your wife will be there to tell you that you are a klutz and that you have to clean it up.

The important thing to think about right now is that waves travel across space in a unique way. Drop two pebbles in a pond and the waves they create will hit and interfere with each other. Contrast that with a solid, small, round object, like a ball bearing. A ball bearing occupies a constant amount of space no matter what you do with it. If you drop it on the floor, it will still be a ball bearing. It will still occupy ball bearing dimensions in space no matter where it rolls to. That's the way solid objects behave.

Next, I want you to imagine a ball bearing shot by an air gun into a poster board. When I was a kid they were called BBs. Just about everyone had a Daisy Red Ryder air rifle that shot them. The BB will leave a hole in the poster board that has distinct dimensions. The hole will occupy a specific amount of space. Nothing magical about that. If you shot five ball bearings at a poster board, they would leave five holes in the places where they hit. You could measure the holes and they would be uniform and located at the exact space where the BB struck.

What could never happen is this: the holes the ball bearings made would never change dramatically just because you shot some ball bearings at another part of the poster board. Something that occupies a measurable amount of space doesn't occupy a different amount of space depending upon what you do with some other thing in a different place. Think about Donald Trump's ass on a bar stool. A big bar stool. It occupies space. Now Dick Cheney sits on the stool next to him and they are chatting away about how cool it would be to start a war someplace. Trump's ass would not spread out any further (there are limits to these things) in space depending upon who sat on the stool next to him. Two fat asses may occupy twice the amount of space in the bar, but the space that those asses spread out across does not get any larger no matter how many assholes show up. You can think of an ass as a kind of a particle. A particle is a piece of matter that occupies space.

What you now know, having successfully graduated from Howie's Physics 101, is the difference between a wave and a particle and how they behave. Waves (or things that travel in waves like water) spread out to different places through air or water, creating disturbances. Particles do not. They can travel to different places, but that is different from spreading their essence out. Here comes the magic.

Light travels in absolutely dead straight lines. The Wilson golf ball company once produced a golf ball that they said was "extra straight," but I had my doubts. I bought some anyway.

Back to our experiment—because I have to tell you that the experiment with the golf balls didn't work out. Take a simple laser pointer and aim at something and it will make a red spot in an exact straight line between the pointer and the target. This, remember, is how particles behave. Particles do not spread out and interfere with other particles unless they collide. Waves, on the other hand do not travel in straight lines and waves _will_ spread out and interfere with other waves. Because of the way light traveled in straight lines, Isaac Newton assumed correctly that light was composed of tiny particles. Modern science has confirmed that notion and identified the particles that make up light. They are called photons and you may think of them like little ball bearings made of light.

In 1874, Thomas Young was actually doing a science experiment to try to find out how light worked. Here is a variation of his experiment: imagine your laser pen firing through a slit in a poster board. You turn it on and off and every time you do it you record where the beam hit on the second poster board. You would get a pattern of hits that would be within the dimension of the slit that you cut. What the hits would not do is spread out beyond the area of the slit. If they did that, they would be behaving like waves. The photons should land where they are aimed, pretty much like a ball bearing shot. And that is, in fact, exactly what they do.

Now, take the same laser beam from your laser pen and split it. You could do this using a thin playing card. The beam is composed of particle photons, so some of them would go right and some of them would go left, resulting in hits on each side where the beam had been split. But if they are particles (occupying specific space) going to different places, they should not interfere with each other.

But that is exactly what they do. They spread out and form interference patterns with each other and are affected in the way they behave _and what they turn into_ simply because of the experiment.

You need to understand that the photons themselves have not been split in half. Some went one way and some went the other way. They can't be split by the playing card. And when scientists shoot individual photons (they can do that) out of a what amounts to a photon gun, they always travel in a straight line to the target. They can be diffracted but after the diffraction they will still go in a straight line. Yet in the experiment I am describing _they change their very nature_ and become wave-like. They act as if—and this is the mind-boggling thing— _they actually know_ of each other's existence. Like they are brothers with the other particles and want to become sort of joined.

Wait a minute. Hold the phone. Particles that always move in straight lines cannot make decisions to change their intrinsic nature and become something else. They can't change their very nature just because you perform a different experiment.

Oh, yes, they can. And yes, they do. They do the same thing when you fire them individually (one photon at a time) through two different slits. When you fire through one slit, they will make marks that go along the dimensions of the slit. And they will stay there, leaving distinct marks. No wave-like activity takes place. When you fire through a second slit next to it, you expect to see the same distinct slit pattern of marks where they hit. There should be two separate slit patterns. But there aren't. They then behave like waves and form patterns that interfere with each other. They seem to know what is going on next door and they change their nature because of what is going on through the slit next door.

The particles change into waves. And they do it _because of the experiment._ Because of the conditions that _you_ created. Not because you did anything to change their nature. It isn't like you hit them with a hammer to get them to spread out. All you did was send them to different places.

In the macro world, it would be as if Trump's ass merged with Cheney's because Cheney sat on the stool next to him.

And then along came Werner Heisenberg. He discovered something even stranger. He found at that at the subatomic level, the tiny things (atoms) that make up all big things (chairs) aren't even necessarily there. They only have a tendency to be there when we are looking at them. This is known in physics as the Uncertainty Principle. Heisenberg, a German physicist, discovered the secret in 1925. What he found out was that as we penetrate deeper and deeper into the subatomic world, we reach a certain point at which one part or another of our picture of nature becomes fuzzy, and there is no way to clarify that part without blurring another part of the picture.

Fuzziness, not precise clarity, appears to be the ultimate nature of things. And the observer, by his very act of observation, creates his own temporary reality.

It turns out that way down deep, at the sub-atomic level, reality is temporary and utterly dependent upon our observation and interaction in order to even come into existence. _We_ appear to give reality its nature. We bring it into being by interacting with it and it isn't anything in particular until we do. Just like the duck-rabbit on the cover of this book. Nature at the subatomic level does not appear to be any particular concrete way, and when we observe it, we actually bring its temporary nature into existence. This does not mean that chairs disappear when you leave the room. They are still there. But they are made up of things that do exactly that. Go figure.

I wish that someone could explain it, but no one has ever been able to. It's the ultimate reductionist conundrum.

You could spend the rest of your life trying to understand why this is so (I spent a few years before I gave up) and not get any closer than I am taking you right now.

I know what you are thinking. _Neat theory, but, like, that's just your opinion, man._ Well, guess what? It's been confirmed in laboratories over and over again. It's what quantum physics is all about and without quantum physics there would be no computers or e-books and you are reading one right now. Heisenberg was right.

Albert Einstein hated the conclusion and went to his grave not being able to figure out why it was so. It added up, but it didn't make sense. It was too scary. That's when he said, "I just cannot believe that God plays dice with the Universe."

About this conclusion, there is no longer much debate in the world of physics. Things are inherently, intrinsically fuzzy at the most basic levels. God does, indeed, play dice, and there is no ultimate clarity to be found. But it turns out that maybe that's an answer to the whole puzzle of free will and God and the meaning we are all looking for. Again, (and again and again) it depends upon the way you look at things.

**The Eternal Battle: Entropy versus Evolution**

Entropy is the unstoppable force that demands that everything with energy eventually runs out of gas. Everything. The compulsion to survive is the war living things wage with entropy. And even though it is ultimately a losing battle, we keep at it. Without the compulsion to survive, there would literally be no life. It is very important to understand how awesome this drive to stay alive and pass on our genes is. Passing on our genes is our only shot at some kind of immortality. We have to work hard to survive and, believe me, everyone wants to survive. We are wired to do everything we can to survive. You cannot hold your breath until you stop breathing. It can't be done. We aren't designed that way. We fight to stay alive.

But there is another force at work inside us. It probably got started by accident, but, at some point, it took on a wonderful life of its own. I think it may be the force that gives us our humanity.

Entropy is literally about death. The death of everything. Maybe, as far as living, thinking beings are concerned, the most important force in the universe. Let me explain it to you. Matter seems inexplicably to have organized itself ever since the Big Bang—the creation explosion that formed the subatomic building blocks that make up the physical world. Ever since then, these little guys have been frantically getting together like pieces of some cosmic LEGO set to form... well... everything. Planets and water and rocks and flowers and Hitler and Jesus. These are a few of Earth's favorite and not-so-favorite things, as the song goes.

Nobody understands quite why, but these little quantum particles have been unbelievably busy over the last six billion years. One day, they miraculously got together (not figured out, but got together) to form living things. And almost immediately thereafter, these living things began to eat each other. The more complex and the smarter they became, the more they needed to fuel themselves with other living things. Tigers are more complex than crocodiles, so they need to eat more to sustain their body weight equilibrium. But the second law of thermodynamics tells us that it is all in vain. It's an unavoidably losing battle, because there is a limited amount of energy in the universe—believe it or not—and the way entropy works is that everything eventually runs out of gas. There are no perpetual motion machines. Never have been, never will be.

The universe will die a heat death. Entropy always wins. It's the way things work. The question is how anything got anywhere in the first place. As Detective Kinderman put it so beautifully in William Blatty's novel _Legion:_

_The mystery was evolution itself. The fundamental tendency of matter was toward a total disorganization, towards a final state of utter randomness from which the universe would never recover. Each moment its connections were becoming unthreaded, and it flung itself headlong into the void in a reckless scattering of itself, impatient for the death of its cooling suns. And yet, here was evolution, Kinderman marveled, a hurricane piling up straws into haystacks, bundles of ever increasing complexity that denied the very nature of their stuff. Evolution was a theorem written on a leaf that was floating against the direction of the river._ (18)

That's the ultimate, wonderful, and inevitably futile fight. Evolution moves in the opposite direction against the very nature of the universe. It bays at the moon. It tilts at cosmic windmills. It flails away in the blackness in a fight to plant the flag of order on the field of chaos. It's amazing.

But while it is appropriate to marvel at it, we should never make the mistake of worshiping this force of nature. It produces suffering and mistakes. It always has. The wonder of evolution has a dark and horrible side.

As Annie Dillard points out:

" _A chromosome crosses or a segment snaps. In the egg or the sperm, and all sorts of people result. You cannot turn a page in Smith's Recognizable patterns of Human Malformation without your heart's pounding from simple terror. You cannot brace yourself. Will this particular baby live? What do you hope? The writer calls the paragraph describing each defects effects, treatment and prognosis "Natural History." Here is a girl about two years old. She is wearing a dress with a polka dot collar. The two sides of her face do not meet normally. Her eyes are far apart and under each one is a nostril. She has no nose at all, only a no man's-land of featureless flesh and skin, an inch or two wide, that roughly bridges her face's halves. You pray that this grotesque looking child is mentally deficient as well. But she is not. "Normal intelligence" the text says."_ (19)

I fear she will soon figure out that she isn't going to be asked to the prom. What then? Did you know that at certain colleges there are fraternities that have parties where the frat brother who brings the ugliest girl gets an award? It's quite the joke around campus. I've always wondered how it goes when the girls get there and look at each other and figure it out. Most of them have "normal intelligence." I often wonder where the relationship between fun and cruelty came from.

Evolution is founded upon mistakes and aberrations. They aren't the exception—they are the ultimate unwavering rule. Nothing would have ever evolved without mistakes. We would not be here if a big rock hadn't taken out the dinosaurs. And here we are.

Evolution spawns bad stuff. Constantly. Suffering isn't just a byproduct of evolution. It turns out that suffering is what makes the process keep going.

You see, the fact of the matter is that bad stuff, like suffering is. It just is. Horrible things happen. It's the way the universe happened to turn out through the random, mindless unfolding of physics and evolution. And the almost infinite way in which suffering happens... every horror from the digger wasp to the cosmic collision that killed the dinosaurs and the mud slide that buried a church full of worshipers in Portugal and the cancer that suddenly explodes inside of good men and women... it is nothing more than a function of evolution and physics and randomness.

The fact that these things happen is nothing more than that—a fact. An occurrence. An event in time with no more intrinsic significance than a piece of hail that shatters the windshield of a Honda. _There is no meaning when suffering occurs._ Turns out that Ivan Dostoyevsky may have been wasting his time. Truly baying at the moon. It was like trying to figure out why trees have it in for us and work so hard in the spring to make us sneeze.

Then what is the point of it all? There is a point. I promise you. There can be a happy ending here.

A lot has happened since day four of creation. Take the painted wild dog of Africa. He has been around for a long time. He is one of the old God's little monsters. He is an ugly little son of a bitch who hunts in packs and seems to kill for the pure joy of it. If you were to follow a pack around for a month, I wager that you would conclude that he is as voracious and vicious a killer as you would ever see. I won't detail the horrors he perpetrates on other animals, because by this time you are probably numb.

Interestingly, experts will tell you that if you left all dogs alone to breed as they wanted to, in a couple of thousand years, the species would return from Lhasa Apsos and cockapoos, back to scraggly-looking wild dogs with mangy black and brown coats. I have actually seen a natural experiment like this take place on Harbour Island in the Bahamas. The dogs on that tiny island were allowed to mate as they pleased and go where they wanted and after a hundred or so years, they started to look like wild dogs of Africa. They also became aggressive and began to travel in packs and terrorize people on the beach and so something was done.

Behold the Labrador retriever. It is a fact that deliberate selective breeding—decisions by man that he wanted certain qualities in a dog—gave us the marvelous creature called the Lab. Say "Lab" to anyone who has owned one and you will see a smile light up from the inside that quickly envelopes them. The Lab is love, the Lab is loyalty, and the Lab is always in a good mood even when he is pain. The Lab loves to please and bring smiles to people. He lives to overwhelm people with happiness.

Let me make this perfectly clear: the Lab was not in the game plan described by Genesis. _We made him. We_ designed him. _We_ stepped outside of the natural order of things and created this good dog. We also did exactly the same thing to bring forth the pit bull to rip the testicles off rival drug dealers. Those creatures were _our_ doing, not Mother Nature's or the gods. Mother Nature and the gods created the process that gave us loathsome infections and predation and suffering. _We the people_ created cures and anesthetic. _We_ gave Mother Nature a good kick in the teeth when she needed one. We fought valiantly against her mistakes. We also created Dachau and Rwanda and Nagasaki.

Never forget that. Always remember what we are capable of doing.

**The Emperor and the Wizard**

I believe that it's okay to believe as long as you are guided by reason. I believe, for example, in being kind. I guess you could say I believe in kindness. Sounds like an ism, doesn't it? But I would not have been kind to Hitler. I would have gladly put a bullet between his eyes. Maybe one in each kneecap before the last one so he could get a taste of what he had done to so many innocents.

Reason compels me to conclude that kindness isn't the answer to everything. It may be the answer to most things. But it isn't an ism. "Turn the other cheek" sounds like a really good way to live, but it isn't. Not yet, anyway. As a matter of fact, there are times when it is grossly irresponsible. There are times when putting a violent stop to evil is exactly what needs to be done.

That's why I would make a terrible Christian.

I believe in glimpses. I believe that glimpses are all we are ever capable of seeing. Here is one of my favorite little parables. In the Hindu religion, there is a story that involves the gods. Ram is a god, Sita is his wife, and Laksaman is his brother. One day, the three of them are walking along a jungle trail. The path is narrow, dense with jungle vegetation, and constantly winding. Most of the time, Laksaman can only see Sita, who walks between him and Ram. But every once in a while, the path turns just enough so that Laksaman can see past Sita and get the briefest glimpse of the face of his brother, Ram. A glimpse of the face of a god.

I believe in _being good for goodness's sake_. I believe in people and I believe in the good books written by good people. I did not capitalize the g or the b in good books for a reason.

Here are two of the best. I would recommend you read to them to your children if you want them to grow up to be good, kind, well-adjusted, thinking, independent people. It is almost impossible to turn either one of them into an ism. There are so many more good ones, but these are the two that I have a special affection for. They are children's books, but it wouldn't hurt you to reread and think hard about what they are saying. I suspect that both books are really about religious fundamentalism.

_The Emperor's New Clothes_ by Hans Christian (how's that for a little irony?) Anderson and _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz_ by L. Frank Baum are my Bibles.

_The Emperor's New Clothes_ is a wonderful parable about critical thinking and the value of an innocent, uncorrupted child's mind. An egomaniacal and impossibly vain emperor, who if I was casting the movie, would be played by Donald Trump, hires two tailors, who are actually con men, to make him the best suit of clothes ever. The tailors present him an outfit that they tell him is made from a glorious fabric that is invisible to people of an inferior social status and all those who are just hopelessly stupid. They make a big fuss about fitting him and putting it on him for a parade. He, of course, can't see a thing, but all of his ministers and the sycophants who surround him tell him how terrific he looks. The emperor, who has a constant need for attention (Donald, are you following the story line here?), marches through the city naked and everyone applauds and plays along.

Suddenly a child—a wonderful, innocent child—yells out that the emperor is wearing nothing at all. You see, the child had not yet been corrupted by an ism. He saw what was there to be seen. In this case, he saw that the emperor was a naked buffoon with hair the color of orange juice (I made that part up). This child hadn't been around long enough to be corrupted by the loyalty-patriotism ism of his fellow countrymen. He wasn't afraid to see what was there to be seen. The emperor wasn't wearing any clothes. Sometimes nothing is the best thing you can ever hope to see.

Anyway, read it to your children. They will grow up strong and unafraid.

And then there is my favorite, _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz,_ which has the best literary hero of all time: Toto the dog. You know the story, but I would wager that you never thought too much about it. Dorothy is on a quest to get home. The Cowardly Lion is on a quest to find courage. The Straw Man is on a quest to find a brain, and the Tin Man is on a quest to find a heart. Together, they set out on a journey to the Emerald City, because they have been assured that there is a wonderful wizard presiding there, who can give them each what they want so desperately.

When they finally get to the Emerald City, they are asked to put on green spectacles by the Guardian of the Gates. And the thing about the spectacles is, of course, that everything will appear emerald green. When they meet the wizard, he appears to each of them in a really scary form. He yells at them. He terrifies them. And he tells them if they go and do his bidding—if they kill the Wicked Witch of the West—he will grant their wishes.

They do and when they return to Oz to collect on the promise the wizard made, he tries to put them off. He acts scary. And they are told not to dare to question the great wizard. He acts exactly like God did when Job asked why his children had to die. _Exactly._

And then something wonderful happens: Toto the dog pulls back the curtain that hides the wizard and exposes him for what he really is. And he is just a little fat guy with a scary machine, smoke, and mirrors.

I often think there should be a monument to Toto. A little dog statute somewhere with a plaque that says, "Here lies Toto. He was a wonderful dog. He knew a bullshitter when he saw one. RIP best friend of all."

You know the rest. The band America sang about it: "Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man, that he didn't... didn't already have." What a message for your children.

But don't ever make the mistake of following the band around and looking for inspiration from _them_ just because they sang it so well. And here is why: the writer of that song took a simple and deeply profound message and could have stopped right there. But he kept going, because the message by itself set to music wouldn't have sold. It was just one line. A line like, "Be kind whenever you can." You see, he needed an entire song in order to sell it and command a following. He couldn't stop there. It wasn't commercially feasible to stop there. There was only one "Surfin' Bird." So he wrote more lyrics for the music. The lyrics that follow the wonderful message about the Tin Man go like this:

And Cause never was the reason for the evening

Or the tropic of Sir Galahad

So please

Believe in me

When I say I'm spinning round, round, round, round

Smoke glass stain'd bright colors

Image going down, down, down, down

Soapsud green like bubbles

And do you know what that stuff means? Well, if you guessed that it means nothing, if you guessed that it is essentially a bunch of nonsense, you would be correct. The composer, lead singer Dewey Bunnell, has said that he just liked the chords. He needed some words that went with the chords, and the Tin Man line was the only cohesive thought in the song.

I still love the song, knowing that. But I don't waste a lot of time trying to gain any flashes of weighty insight from the rest of it.

If you like Jesus, the Thomas Jefferson Bible— _The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth—_ is all you really need. The nonsense in the other one isn't going to help you. And you don't have to give up a percentage of your income or pledge and unwavering allegiance to learn from it. You can download it for free.

**An Amazing Hippopotamus**

Curing cancer through science is good. Christian Scientists are fools. Sometimes their misguided faith in the miracle of prayer amounts to child abuse. It happens all the time. They get prosecuted for subjecting their children to that part of their faith. Freedom of religion, as we discussed earlier, has its limits. And suffering will go on and on if you stay on the sidelines, regardless of whether or not you pray to the right god.

They don't intervene. _They_ stay on the sidelines. They don't like to get involved. But humans, thank god, seem to have an innate need to interfere with the way things are. We need to constantly change things and try to make them better. That's why we work so hard to alleviate or end suffering when we encounter it. Not just for ourselves, but for others. Even for other species.

_But why do we?_ Where did altruism and goodness come from? The simple answer is that we are cooperative pack animals, social creatures who need to share for our mutual benefit in order to survive. That's how it all got started. _You run fast and I'm pretty good with a spear. I'll tell you what... let's make a deal... and she can cook up a storm so we'll invite her along and..._

Well, you get the idea. You don't have to read an anthropology treatise to figure out how goodness got started. Tit for tat. This for that. But, at some point in our evolutionary history, something amazing happened. A jump occurred that defied every law of nature and survival. An event so astounding that it changed everything. And, for me, I want to believe that it had everything to do with a mythological story about a woman. A story that, depending upon how you look at it, may have been read the wrong way for two thousand years.

It's about a woman who was cursed and maligned for telling us about what we were capable of doing and becoming. I'll tell you about her in a few pages. But first I want to tell you a true story of an event involving a hippopotamus.

When I was an impressionable teenager I used to love to read _Life Magazine._ The fantastic photography always told such amazing stories. One day, I opened the new _Life_ and saw a sequence of shots that stayed with me for the rest of my life. Sometimes I think these shots may be among the last thoughts that go through my mind when I am about to die. And the astounding thing for me—a guy who is compelled to make sense out of absolutely everything—is that the photo story made no sense. None. But it was real. It was true. It happened. These pictures could not have lied.

Crocodiles are basically cold-blooded eating machines. They are living dinosaurs in every sense of the word. Their brains are so small that it is a wonder they can function. But they function very well indeed, or they would not have been around for a hundred-fifty million years. I live in a place that has lots of alligators and I never cease to be amazed when I see one. It's true that they don't do much. Fetching a ball would be out of the question, but they are nature at the purest level.

A few years ago my community had to remove a problem gator to Florida five hundred miles south. In a few weeks, it was back in the same pond on the fourth hole. Don't ever underestimate these guys. The dialogue from the original _Alien_ when Ash is telling the crew about their slim chances comes to mind:

ASH

You still don't understand what you are dealing with, do you? A perfect organism. Its structural perfection is matched only by its hostility.

RIPLEY

You... admire it.

ASH

I admire its purity. No conscience or remorse. No delusions of morality.

The hippopotamus is a big old herbivore that evolved after the dinosaurs were wiped out by God's comet. He eats grass all night, hangs around in rivers and lakes during the day, sleeps, makes huge turds that feed the fish, and produces little hippos. Good work in the animal kingdom if you can get it. The hippo is also a very short-tempered brute that kills more African people every year than any other African animal. He gets pissed off very easily, is extremely territorial, and does not make a good pet. You would be much safer strolling by a ferocious lion than you would paddling your dugout canoe too close to a hippo. And, like the elephant, nobody messes with him. Not even the monstrous Nile crocodile.

The antelope is beautiful, a sleek and graceful grazer that is food for just about every predator in Africa. Most of the time, they are fast enough to get away from the animals that make a living devouring them, but they do make mistakes. An antelope to a hippo is, from an evolutionary and ecosystem point of view, completely irrelevant. Hippos and antelopes have nothing much in common other than the fact that they live mostly on vegetation. They don't interact at all. No symbiosis of any kind. They just happen to hang out in the same neighborhood and cross each other's paths from time to time.

Here is what happened once upon a time. Here is what a wildlife photographer saw and photographed. Here is what I saw unfold on my parents' coffee table as I turned the pages and will never forget.

This particular antelope was having a drink at the water's edge and she got a little sloppy. She did not see the huge Nile crocodile just under the surface. The crocodile can launch himself out of the water with a flick of his giant tail and strike as fast as any animal on the planet. From a standstill, he probably strikes as fast as a cobra. If the antelope sees or senses him coming, however, it's no contest. This antelope was probably very thirsty and not paying attention.

The huge crocodile exploded out of the water and grabbed her by the hindquarters as she turned in terror. So far, this is a weekly occurrence on the Discovery Channel. We've all seen it so many times that we probably surf right by it. But it's not as hard to watch as other things I have described earlier. The crocodile is an accidentally merciful killer. He seizes his prey and drags it under the water to drown. Not such a bad way to go if you have to be eaten by a monster. It is the same inevitable ending every single time a crocodile gets its unbelievably powerful jaws around an antelope.

But it wasn't this time. This time, there was a tear in the fabric of the natural universe. Something that defies explanation transpired and if I am ever in the room with an animal behaviorist who tries to explain it to me in terms of his behavioral worldview, territoriality, or some other tortured ism, I will very likely punch him right in his mouth. Because I _need to believe_ the explanation I am going to give you for what happened. It gives me hope.

You see, a big, surly hippo was standing on the bank watching when teeth flashed and death sprang and the Creator's horrible natural order of things began to play itself out. For some reason this big fellow decided _he didn't like it._ Even though it was totally none of business and it wouldn't have affected anything in his immediate or distant future or that of his family or his species if he decided to observe, ignore, and not get involved, this strange hippo decided to change the outcome for no apparent other reason than the fact that he didn't like what was going on. He charged the crocodile and made him release the antelope. The crocodile may be incapable of higher math, but he instantly computed that this monster was on his way over and could easily chomp him in half, so he released the antelope.

Pretty amazing.

But that isn't the end of the story. If it was, the behaviorists would take over. You see, an even more amazing thing happened next. The hippo gently nudged the shocked antelope to safety away from the river and stood by until she regained her senses and ran off.

Wow.

Wow indeed.

By the way, my daughter spent about four months trying to locate the photo spread for my sixtieth birthday. She found it. It was an old video and it was on YouTube. You can see it if you like. It has happened more than once.

What does it mean? Well, if you plug a little Heisenberg uncertainty into it, it appears to mean nothing, anything, and everything. To the hippo, the antelope, and the wildlife photographer, to me and the other people that saw his photo spread and video, it meant something very special happened. And, maybe, by the time you finish reading this and watching the video, you may conclude the same thing and join us in saying "Wow."

Right now, there are a lot of horrible things happening everywhere in the world. Not a second goes by without suffering and death. But there are other things happening. Wonderful things just like the heroism of that hippo. I believe that a very recent cosmic revolution is in full stride. You can be part of it, but you have to decide to become part of it. You have to understand the power you have and decide to use it. You have to abandon your faith in magic and invisible men with beards who are looking out for the ultimate well-being of mankind. You have to believe... in yourself.

**Eve, God Love Her**

Here is another story you can read to your children. It just needs a little explaining. The Original Sin story would seem to be the most perplexing story in the Bible. I have yet to read a commentary that made the slightest bit of sense.

To set the stage, Adam and Eve had been placed in the Garden of Eden, where they had everything they needed and life, we have always presumed, was as good as it gets. Death for humankind hadn't been invented yet. That is what we are told. Now, contrary to what you may have heard in church, there is not a single word in Genesis that suggests that lions weren't lions and lambs weren't lunch. And I'm fairly certain they weren't lying down with each other. The Bible doesn't say that. It says God created "great sea monsters" and if they were Barneys or Willy the happy whale, is doubtful they would have been called "monsters." There isn't anything that suggests that lions weren't behaving like lions. The phrase that is closest to the "lions and lambs" phrase actually occurs in Isaiah 11:6 and it predicts that the wolf will lay down with the lamb when the Messiah returns to earth. But there is nothing that even implies that vegetarianism was the way of the world in Eden.

Also, if you recall, there was a serpent in the Garden. And if there is one thing that there is no dispute over, the serpent was evil incarnate. A tempter that _God_ must have created (we are told He created everything) and let freely roam around and start trouble. Had there been no serpent, there would have presumably been no Fall of Man, because clearly he gave Eve the idea. Everyone knows the rest. Eve ate of the forbidden fruit offered it to Adam and all hell broke loose.

God had given gave a direct order. Eve disobeyed and brought unlimited suffering to the future human race. Eve, the story goes, is the mother of death and all suffering.

I disagree. I think we have been reading the story the wrong way. Eve was the greatest hero in all of recorded history. I adore her. Eve was what God _should have been._ It is Eve who should give us all hope. She is literally the mother of hope. Let me explain.

The order that God gave—and I am quoting here—was: "... but from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat for on that day you eat from it you shall surely die." (Genesis 2:17)

Here is what happened next. The serpent made a living causing trouble and he assured Eve, "You surely shall not die [if you eat the apple]. For God knows in the day you eat from it your eyes will be opened and you will be like God, knowing good and evil." (Genesis 3:4,5) Eve saw that the fruit would "make one wise" (Genesis 3:4,5) and she ate. Then she fed Adam. Fruit from the tree of _knowledge._

And the Lord God was furious. He sent them out of the Garden, east of Eden, and as he pointed the way he said, "Behold, the man has become like one of Us, knowing good and evil." (Genesis 3:22) That's the part of the story that always gets glossed over. And it's quite astounding. Because here is the thing. Only _a god_ could know good and evil. And only a lesser, petty god would want to keep us in the dark like the rest of his pets. Could it be that this story tells us that we really were brought into this world as children of a lesser god? A god that acknowledged he was one of many when he used the phrase "one of us." A god that thought it would be fun to conduct a cosmic science experiment on the blue planet and sit back to see what would happen?

Here's what I think. I think that the Original Sin was the first time Eve, God bless her, asked _why._ It was the first violation of the rule of whys. It was the why question that I told you about earlier. The metaphysical "why" that has no easy answer. _Why_ should it be like this? I can see _how_ it all happens, but I need to know _why_. Why did you make the world this way? Why do living things need to eat each other?

God, I cannot turn my head from the evil in the Garden; I need to know why You let it happen.

You see, once they ate from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, Genesis is very clear on the fact that "then the eyes of both of them were opened." (Genesis 3:7) Think about that. They saw what was going on in the Garden and they saw that there was evil. Maybe they heard the lambs screaming in agony as they were routinely and unmercifully being torn limb from limb by lions. Maybe things appeared for the first time to be not quite as God advertised. Maybe they were far from perfect.

Don't you see it? Eve _chose_ to see. She chose to open mankind's eyes and see what was going on. She exercised the first and most important act of _free will_ in the history of the world. Consequences be damned. And evil be known and be damned.

And for that wonderful act of defiance, we were damned. That is when we went from _homo erectus,_ man who walks erect, to _homo sapiens,_ man the wise. That is when we first knew of good and evil and became like gods.

What a powerful story it now becomes. By seeing things as they were in the Garden for the first time, Eve got a glimpse of what Heisenberg would discover thousands of years later. There _is no independent reality._ There is no such thing as good and evil without us to observe and be witnesses. The very concepts of good and evil are concepts that Eve and Adam, in their desire to become _sapient like God,_ brought into the natural world. They have meaning because of our interaction with the world and our need and decision to judge it. To do something about it. To see the rabbit as a duck or the duck as a rabbit or the wild dog as a Labrador retriever.

Maybe they left the Garden for something better—something _east_ of Eden. East, where the light that starts each day originates. I think they set off together to find the light. That's what I think.

We are not God's responsibility. He is ours. And we have so much left to teach Him. And there is evidence that He is learning.

There are more than six billion people on Earth. I confess that I have given you a one-sided view of the way the world works. I drew a picture of a lion and would not let you see the lamb. Oh, it does work that way and there is tremendous suffering, but other things are happening, as well. Today I calculate in my imagination that there may have been more than one hundred billion acts of human kindness. Yes, some of them were calculated to sell cars and investment opportunities. Some of them were performances in the hope to be rewarded with sex, and some of them were done on a _quid pro quo_ basis to secure a place in heaven. But a lot of them were not.

Somewhere, a soldier threw himself on a grenade because he decided to save his buddies. Somewhere, a nurse changed a diaper for a helpless old man with Alzheimer's and tried to make that man smile in the midst of his shame. Somewhere, a boy picked up a robin with a broken wing and tried in vain to fix it. Somewhere, an accountant in a BMW opened his window and gave twenty dollars to a man who said he couldn't work, maybe even knowing that the man was a liar. Somewhere, there is a woman who rescues pit bulls and tries to turn them into Labs. And many of these billions of acts kindness do absolutely nothing to advance the cause of survival for the people that do them. There is something else going on here. Something wonderful.

And, somewhere, before there were hijackers with their own agendas, there may have been a man named Jesus Christ who defied his nature with the ultimate sacrifice and gave his life in the hopes that the rest of us would someday understand and learn. The _idea_ of Christ turns out to possibly be the end point of evolution. The only thing that can give meaning to the terrible struggle that is life. Nature producing that which denies its very essence. The story about Christ's death on the cross... his willingness to defy and give back what all of us assume to be the ultimate gift... the gift of his life...

It is a story about the ultimate act of rebellion against _what_ is. His story is a story about what we can become. And it is probably just a story, like _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz,_ but it is one worth thinking about whether you believe or not.

**A Very Personal Glimpse**

I have been really scared an average number of times in my life. I have been terrified twice. One I want to share with you.

When I was about fourteen, way before my hardwiring was fully formed and way before I ever had a serious thought about the way the world worked or should work, I got the flu. Just an ordinary, garden-variety flu, with a high fever and all the uncomfortable things that go with it. It lasted a few days, as bad flu bugs sometimes do. My parents both worked and on one of the last fever days, while I was alone in bed, I fell asleep sometime in the late morning. I had a dream, or an experience—dreams _are_ experiences, now that I think about it—and I awoke terrified. The fever had broken and I was soaked in sweat. It was the only time something like that ever happened to me. Once was more than enough. But I never forgot it. And for most of my life I have tried not to think about it. And the thing is, I was much too young, I think, to have had this particular hallucination.

Just before I woke up, I had seen myself spinning in some kind of a vortex. There were gasses and clouds and shades of color that I had never seen. I was at the center of this swirling mass and I could see myself lying quite still. And I knew in the dream that _I was God._ And more than any thought I have ever had, I didn't want to be. I didn't want anything to do with the responsibility of being God. It was beyond terrifying.

Nothing was spoken. It was just an image. And that was the end of it.

I am, today, the furthest thing you could imagine from mystical. I would be a hypnotist's nightmare. I say "om" for three seconds and start laughing. I would be banned from yoga class. I have never had any delusions about being God. I don't think I need to be locked up. For the past ten years, I have just wanted to do no evil and play golf. I thought that was enough. It's not. So I wrote this book.

Here is what I think. I think the God that can exist inside of us is our child. He needs our help if he is going to amount to anything we can be proud of. He's learning. He's trying. He's listening. He is us. We created him in our image and we can make that image better. He won't get any better if we sign on to isms and decide to wear blinders.

It's time to wake up and accept the responsibility that comes with the accidental gift of free will. We can all learn what is really important from that from the hippo. And if enough of us do that, then one day the God inside can become what He is supposed to be. And so can we.

Anyway, that's what I believe. That's the big glimpse I saw. I want to leave you with some more movie dialogue. This exchange is from _City Slickers_ , and it was between Billy Crystal's character Mitch, and Jack Palance, who plays a tough old cowboy named Curly.

CURLY

Do you know what the secret of life is? [Holds up one finger] This.

MITCH

Your finger?

CURLY

One thing. Just one thing. You stick to that and the rest don't mean shit.

MITCH

But, what is the "one thing?"

CURLY

That's what you have to find out.

So, go find out, my friend.
Notes

\- Another of my favorite books of all time is _The Dancing Wu Li Masters_ by Gary Zukav. I read this during my quantum physics midlife crisis stage, when I set out on a path to figure everything out and find the proverbial meaning of life. I read so much stuff on quantum physics that after about three years, I came to the conclusion that none of it made sense. Plus, you can't really understand any of it without the math and I never made it past long division. Nevertheless, I managed to learn more than I realized and, to this day, credit my journey to this strange world with finding lots of glimpses and, ultimately, some peace.

\- It was Zukav who introduced me to the wonderful Hindu story about Ram and Laksaman, and helped me to be satisfied with glimpses. I never got any further than Zukav took me in that first book. Heisenberg was right: the deeper you get, the fuzzier things become. The irony was that fuzziness was the answer I had been looking for.

\- Finally, here is the video I mentioned about the hippo: <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENWp0Q2RkTA> I hope you enjoy what it can mean as much as I did.

**Footnotes**

1. Paul Copan, Is God A Moral Monster (Baker Books 2011) Kindle edition location 3367

2. Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, Book V Chapter 4 (Mobile Reference) Kindle edition location 30%

3. C.S. Cowles, Eugene H. Merrill, Daniel L. Gard, Tremper Longman III, Four Views on God and the Canaanite Genocide, Show Them No Mercy, (Zondervaran 2003) Kindle edition, location 544

4. Ibid. location 1197

5. Ibid. location 1233

6. Ibid. location 1309

7. Ibid. location 2623

8. Ibid. location 3199

9. Ibid. location 2970

10. Ibid. location 3009

11. Ibid. location 3209

12. <http://www.randi.org/encyclopedia/Nostradamus.html>

13. Richard Price had written to Thomas Jefferson on October 26, 1789, about the harm done by religion; he wrote, "Would not Society be better without Such religions? Is Atheism less pernicious than Demonism?"

14. Letter to John Adams Monticello, Oct. 12, 1813

15.  http://www.insideedition.com/investigative/2502-inside-edition-investigates-tv-ministers-lifestyles

16. I should point out here that I am absolutely certain of almost nothing in this world but the first time I spanked the monkey I was absolutely certain I was going to do it again.

17. Schuller went bankrupt after pissing away god knows how much money that he took from the elderly who were getting by on social security. Maybe there is a God after all...

18. Blatty William, Legion, (New York: Tom Dorry Associates, ), 105

19. Annie Dillard, For the Time Being, Vintage 2000

**Dedication**

I wrote this for my children and their children so they would know what I was thinking about when I got that funny look on my face with the corners of my mouth turned down. The truth is that I have been thinking about these things and making that face for almost fifty years. So in that sense, this book took a hell of a long time to write. The secret of life is one thing.

Acknowledgments

I owe Eleanor (1927-2008) and Sandy Orr, founders of the Hawthorne School, big-time. They were getting through to me even when I wasn't paying attention – which was most of the time. Without them I would be selling shoes today instead of books. I really owe Lonn Berney who gave me a kick in the ass when I needed one and insited that I write. He also reminds me, every time I see him at the driving range, how easy it is to be a kind and caring person.

**About the Author**

Howie Siegel, an attorney and former NBC legal commentator, spent 35 years establishing a national reputation as a litigation specialist, handling and winning controversial cases that the established legal community said could not be won. He appeared on 60 Minutes, 60 Minutes II, Larry King Live, The Today Show, Dateline, and PBS's Inside the Law. He resides in Johns Island, South Carolina with his wife and two dogs, where he writes and searches for the secret of golf.

HowieSiegel.com

**Credits**

Cover Design & Book Formatting

Pilcrowphile Productions

