Jerry Falwell is dead!!!!!!

No joke.

Sensation

I flip on the television, each channel is static. Empty, senseless, obnoxious. The occasional flickering image scrolls across, quickly to descend back into the mindlessness that preceded it. Soon, my mind offers a context, the images become real, and I realize it's not static at all-- this is the programming.

I can faintly see the flickering image of a child killed in war.

I go blind in one eye as I watch CNN. I can only believe half of what I see, but I trust it nonetheless. The Newsman married the Politician's daughter, but he assures me he has no bias. As blind as I am, he is blinder still-- he hides the truth of his father-in-law, otherwise revealing an indictment against himself. My voice goes hoarse as I shout warnings to the random passerby, my pleadings melting into the mass of hopelessness. I can either scream in the city and be drowned or whisper in the country and echo.

I can faintly hear the buzz of an FBI wiretap on my phone.

I see recurring images of the missing white girls, angry black men, fundamentalist terrorists, and forest fires, and realize I've nearly gone deaf. The whisper of corruption is completely gone, and I can no longer trust my senses. The blank smiles and practiced reactions become such a pattern that I can't tell genocide from panda bears.

Tears of blood trickle down my cheek as the world becomes scarlet. The smell of death surrounds me as oil seeps through the carpet, the world becoming nothing more than the smells my nose can discern. Led by the anchorman, I know not where he's leading me; I've come to accept his guidance without question.

I can faintly smell the oil on his hands.

My olfactory shuts down; it has been overloaded from the chaos. I can taste the smog of the city, but eventually it's gone too. I can't tell whether it is society that has abandoned me, or if I have been lead away from it. The truth has become completely concealed, but still I trudge onward.

I can faintly feel the barrel of a pistol pressed against my forehead.

And soon, I can no longer even feel. Everything has become empty, indistinct, senseless. The context of my life vanishes with whatever remains of my being, and my identity is scattered across the floor. My spirit remains trapped, this void consuming and bonding with my intangible essence. I have become my hatred. I have become the void. The emptiness. Static.

I'm an atheist.

Yes, I've outed myself as one of those wretched, hand-wringing, mustache-twirling, godless cretins, whose sole purpose is to live in sin and destroy the image of God in which the world was made.

If you believe the above description is applicable to atheists, please stop reading now. I'm not in the mood to deal with zealots.

And no, I don't believe religion is the single worst thing to happen to man, responsible for more deaths and suffering than anything in history. That would be struggles over resources, which is basic politics. I don't believe that religion is a plague that needs to be wiped out, and irreverent and blatantly inflammatory individuals-- be they Jerry Falwell, Richard Dawkins, or Jack Chick-- have no place in civilized philosophical discourse.

It's not that I don't know the Bible. I was raised and confirmed in the Lutheran Church, have a fairly solid grasp on the majority of the Bible's parables and stories, and understand the implicit philosophical and moral lessons that can be derived from it. I think a moderate Christian mentality can be healthy, so long as it does not entirely preclude the existence of the phenomenon described in the pages of biology, medicine, physics, and other branches of science.

This is getting beyond the point, however. I've been asked the same few questions any time I utter the dreaded sentence, "I'm an atheist," to a particularly religious individual; I'm not faulting religion for this, simply some interpretations. I'd like to share a few of these, and my responses.

Q: How can you not believe in God? Everything that exists is so complex, do you honestly think it *evolved* that way (said with either a pleading tone or a sneer, much to my dismay)?

A: Since when does complexity denote design? The forces of gravity interact in such a complex manner, with the physical attraction of all objects in the universe occurring simultaneously, are so incessantly complex and interwoven because of their nature. Justifying the existence of God as the highest order because things seem overly complicated to us seems to denote a problem with us, rather than a problem with complexity.

Q: How can you live thinking there is no afterlife? The world is so depressing, I would hate to think what my life would be like without a heaven afterward!

A: Everyone has their own raison d'etre, and not everyone needs the promise of a divine reward to function in the now. Rather than writing away my anxieties and hopes, yearning for the life after this, I'm doing as much as possible to ensure that I enjoy this life while it lasts. Making the world a better place and creating a positive legacy are all the assurance I need-- I honestly don't want to live forever, especially not in eternal bliss. Conflict is the spice of life, after all.

Q: How can you take the chance that there's a Hell?

A: Y'know, it's odd that the word "chance" is used, but I'm going to save my free will/determinism rant for another time. To this one, I usually just shrug. I believe in owning up to the consequences for my actions, so if I show up at the Pearly Gates and end up having a chat with God, I fully intend on starting it with, "my bad," followed by as many questions as I can get before I am smote.

I'm a skeptic. Thomas was allowed to doubt, so should I.