Austin over at About.com has written a fantastic article criticising the Catholics protesting "The Golden Compass", a film based on Philip Pullman's award-winning book of the same name. Why? Pullman's "His Dark Materials" series promotes an atheistic view, but it's fine for them to indoctrinate children through ritual, fear and dedicated faith schools funded by taxes.
Go and read it.
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I just clicked the Wikipedia Random Article link for the first time ever. To my surprise it showed me an article about St. Ann's Well Gardens, Hove. Why should this surprise me? Well, out of all the approximately 5.3 million articles on Wikipedia, the article above just happens to be about a garden that I used to live right next to. That's an amazing coincidence right?
Wrong! Let's investigate.
First off, before I clicked the Random Article link I'd not set any criteria for what I would consider a significant response. I've lived in a lot of places and travelled a lot, so even if we were going to restrict what we would consider to be significant to just places I have lived or been then the probability of a match becomes far more likely. But remember, I hadn't set any criteria.
I would have been surprised if the article had been about someone that shared the same name as me, or even if it was about a subject I am especially interested in. I would have been surprised if it had been the date of my birthday, the date of either of my children's birthdays, an article about what I had for lunch today, a company I've worked for, an actor or actress in a movie I've just watched, a dog that looked like mine, a car model I own, an article I've already read, a type of pet I have, a TV show I like, the list goes on and on. But none of this occurred to me within the first five seconds of looking at the article in a state of mild surprise.
We are extremely good at seeing amazing coincidence where really there is only a small coincidence at work. The countless charlatans that offer medium services, tarot, astrology, psychic readings and all the other methods of defrauding the gullible make good use of this. Cold reading uses the common coincidence at its core.
"Yes someone is coming through. It's a man. Yes, I see an initial coming through now. A 'G' and maybe an 'M'. It may be a George. It's not so clear. Does the initial 'G' or 'M' for a man ring any bells for anybody here?", says the Medium, and watches the audience for a sign from anybody that looks ripe.
"My fathers name was Michael, but his brother was called George?", responds an idiot.
"Yes, it's getting clearer. It is a George. Is that right? Uncle George. Yes, he's saying something about Michael. Something about how Michael is watching over someone. A sister, I think, or a brother. A sibling I think."
"I've got a sister."
"And she's not here today?"
"No, she's on holiday."
"George says Michael, your father, yes. He says Michael is watching over your sister and that's why he's not here today."
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Inspired by reading Tommy's post on sports, The Really Deep Questions, I've decided to say a little about my own views on the religion of football.
I grew up in England. English people, everybody else on the planet assures me, love football. Americans call the phenomena soccer, which often results in English people calling the American people "twats". Sports, it appears, can be divisive.
Football, or soccer (for twats), is an English religion based around a primitive ritual involving two groups of men running around a field kicking a piece of dead cow at each other and occasionally into one of two fishing nets. The English followers of the religion are waiting for the second coming of Bobby Moore who will lead them back to victory in the World Cup, as is told of in their ancient texts from 1966.
The objective of the ritual is to get the piece of dead cow into the other team's fishing net as often as possible. The team that gets the dead cow into the other's fishing net the most is declared the winner. The more rituals they win, the more fat people pay huge amounts of money to buy the same t-shirts that the winning team wear. The team can then spend that money on buying David Beckham or some other bald ape that is particularly famous at the time for kicking bits of dead cow about or marketing shaving equipment and other products. This in turn allows the team to sell more t-shirts to more fat people. Cleverly, the t-shirt design is changed often ensuring that it is easy to spot the less devout followers due to outdated t-shirt designs.
Every year there are numerous tournaments in which teams of dead cow kickers from different countries get together to see which one can get the dead cow into the fishing net the most. The winners receive a big cup and the opportunity to sell more t-shirts. This is ironic in many ways, not least because the winning team almost always seem to take off their t-shirts when they win and swap them with the losing team, giving the impression that anybody that is still wearing a winning team's t-shirt may be something of a loser.
During any particular ritual, known as a match, large groups of people known as fans, who's lives are effected in absolutely no way by the dead cow or the fishing nets, pay great attention to which dead cow kicker has the piece of dead cow, where the piece of dead cow is going, the proximity of the dead cow to the fishing nets and how much of a wanker a lunatic wearing a black t-shirt is who spends the entire ritual running around the field blowing a whistle. Occasionally a fan will be so overcome by the experience that they will remove all of their clothes and run across the field naked, being chased by the local authorities who are keen that the intellectual spirit of the ritual not be debased by the presence of wobbling breasts or a bouncing cock.
The fans are indeed fascinating and essential to the ritual. Hypnotised by the random motion of the piece of dead cow, their emotions are placed under its complete control. Since some fans support one team of dead cow kickers and other fans support the other team of dead cow kickers, football seems to follow the old adage that you can't please everybody.
Since some of the fans are invariably very unhappy about what's happening with the piece of dead cow the two groups of fans have to be separated to prevent them from killing each other before the ritual has finished. Although it does happen, especially when a particularly shiny cup is at stake, fans are discouraged from sacrificing each other even after the ritual as presumably dead fans will result in lower t-shirt sales. General violence however is very common and after any ritual numerous ripped and bloodied t-shirts will have to be replaced.
Now, the interesting thing about the religion of football is just how popular it is. It's a much bigger business than Christianity, Islam or any of the other religions that battle it out for the fans in England. Some believe this is because football is less boring, but careful observers see no evidence that this is true. Others have pointed out that both Christianity and Islam have yet to integrate a truly effective t-shirt strategy into their practices. Mosques and Churches also have extremely inadequate bar and fast food facilities on site, which is certainly a major mistake, but overall it may simply be that the level of violence in the theistic religions is simply too great. People prefer activities they feel comfortable taking their children to, after all.
Footballism (soccerism, for twats) may be the world's largest religion. People from every nation will line up and scream emotionally for a glimpse at an ape called David Beckham at any chance they get. Many people in China will work long hard hours on a sub-minimum wage making t-shirts with the name of a football team from England on just so that after a hard months work they'll have sufficient funds to buy one of those t-shirts for themselves. The t-shirt tithe system has made Footballism such a wealthy religion that football teams and particular dead cow kickers are often paid vast sums of money to associate with numerous other products that have absolutely nothing to do with football. If they did they would make playing the sport very difficult indeed, although almost certainly much more fun to watch. These products range from minivans to moisturisers, and razor blades to extremely unhealthy processed foods for children. It is estimated that without David Beckham, a particularly famous dead cow kicker, as much as 80% of the planet's marketing economy would collapse.
If you find that you are unfortunate enough to attend a football ritual here is some brief advice that may be of use. Do not watch the ritual. It will be extremely boring. Watching the fans will be far more interesting and it is obviously far safer to remain alert. If one of the dead cow kickers of the team the fans around you support (see t-shirt tithe) happens to get the dead cow into the other teams fishing net then it is vital that you immediately stand up and shriek like an orgasmic baboon to blend in. Do not be alarmed when complete strangers around you start to touch you, hug you and possibly even kiss you in ways that you may consider rather gay. Homoerotic displays of instant and profound affection are a common response to a dead cow fishing net convergence. The fan will usually stop jumping up and down rubbing his groin against you and screaming after a short time. So far there are no solid data to suggest that you are at significant risk of contracting a sexually transmitted disease whilst attending a football match.
You should at no time say anything to a fan that could be construed as a compliment to the other team. It is also highly important that you shout insults at the whistle blowing lunatic with the black t-shirt, officially known as The Wanker, whenever anybody around you begins to do so.
It would be extremely unwise and potentially very dangerous to laugh at the tsunami of misery that will strike the fans around you whenever the piece of dead cow finds its way into their team's fishing net. This can be very hard to resist, so please do be prepared. Since football fans can be a little touchy, especially when their fishing net has been well used, immediate tensions can often be dissipated by complimenting someone on the pleasantness of their t-shirt. Shouting at The Wanker can also be a useful way to divert attention if you need to make your escape.
Finally, after the football match you should do everything you can to leave as quickly as possible and get as far as you can from the area. The losing team will be extremely keen to beat up anybody that isn't wearing the same t-shirt as them and the winning team will be overwhelmed by alcohol fuelled homoerotic urges towards anyone that is. A neutral t-shirt is usually a good idea. Remember, at no time should you reveal yourself to be a twat, an American visitor, by using the word "soccer", which is considered blasphemy by most.
I hope this brief introduction to the beliefs and practices of Footballism has been useful to you. Next week, Rugby – a similar religion in which large men try to bury their faces in each other's rectums whilst attempting to get a piece of dead pig over a giant letter H.
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In the past I've had some visits from the Jehovah's Witnesses. I blogged the last visit back in April, titled An Interesting talk with the Jehovah's Witnesses. To cut that longer story short, I gave them a rather strong but friendly introduction to why their beliefs are nonsense and the two very pleasant ladies promised to send reinforcements. Reinforcements just arrived! Yippee!
Now, even more than I enjoy blogging about religious insanity I enjoy exploring it face to face with the insane. I see it as a great opportunity to try and broaden their horizons and a it's also a great opportunity for me. I learn a lot about how religious people think or avoid thinking. It also motivates me to improve my memory and make my arguments more precise.
A few minutes ago a lone Jehovah's Witness came to my door. He told me that he's come to follow up from the conversation the other two women had started. I wanted to talk with him, but Saturday morning is not the best of times to interrupt the sort of atheist that does all the things that atheists feel absolutely morally free to do on a Friday night. He's going to be a little uncomfortable anyway so it seemed cruel to invite him in before cleaning up the wreckage that I and my godless friends had caused the night before. The half naked woman asleep on my sofa, the marijuana on the table and the quantity of empty bottles strewn around might have put him off. Being half naked myself and probably wreaking of the last three bars/clubs I had finally exited 5 hours earlier already seemed to be a little unsettling for him. He's going to come back another time during the week.
Now, last time I wrote about the Jehovah's I had some pretty good feedback. There are a lot of people who don't like the Jehovah's, often through direct experience, having lost their families to this particular cult. Once again the offer is on the table to everyone in internet land to send me the questions you'd like me to ask. I'm going to keep notes and I promise to post a full report here.
Happy Saturday everyone - peace =) Maybe I'll write some more when I've woken up.
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I am not now and I have never been a violent man. Despite this I have had many fights in my life, starting from when I got sent to a quality school in a different town to the squalid ghetto-like scum pit I grew up in. Upon returning from school I was abused on a daily basis and situations sometimes turned violent. This used to make me quite scared, although every time I seemed to come off better than my attackers. Things were not as serious as they potentially could have been.
One night I learned an important lesson. When I was eighteen I returned to my town whilst on break from university. Things turned serious. My friend and I were in my town waiting for a bus when a car pulled up and suddenly we were surrounded by a group of five well known tough guys with bad reputations and criminal records including grievous bodily harm. They were after me, not my friend, due to an earlier minor incident I'd had with a friend of theirs.
The usual insults and pushes were thrown my way. This sort of situation does not always turn into a fight so long as you stay calm but on this particular night there was clearly going to be violence. One of the five pulled a small knife.
The ring leader of the group decided to head butt me. I saw it coming and I simply lowered my chin and leaned slightly closer. The ring leader's nose connected forcefully with my forehead. The resultant squeals and blood caused the other four guys to go into something of a frenzy. Fists and feet started to connect with my body. Clearly I had deeply offended them by allowing their leader to hurt himself.
I shouted "Run" to my friend and I did an about turn and sprinted into the night at maximum speed. I was scared. I knew that I was about to receive a severe beating and possibly be stabbed and I ran with everything I had, not looking back because looking back slows you down. It wasn't until I'd run a good 70 meters that I finally glanced back and saw to my surprise that my aggressors had not run after me and neither had my friend. The tough guys were surrounding him and he was up against a wall. On autopilot I ran on and around a corner and then finally I stopped. There in the dark, alone, breathing hard, heart racing, a lesson was learned.
I felt awful. I felt like killing myself. I couldn't explain to myself how I had seen my friend against the wall with these barbarians and yet my legs had carried me on. I was more ashamed of myself than I had ever or have ever since felt. I had discovered something that sickened me to the core. I had discovered that I was a coward. I couldn't run from that.
I was still scared. I wanted so badly not to feel my bones breaking and my face being beaten to a pulp. I remained desperate not to face the realisation that my teeth were being bludgeoned from my skull or to taste my own blood or to feel cold metal penetrate my meat. I was terrified and yet no matter how rightly scared I was I knew that I deserved the beating a thousand times over. I had run away and left my friend to take a beating that was meant for me! I had to go back. I had to go and accept what was coming to me.
I turned around and I forced myself to run back. I was shaking with fear. Tears of pure sadness and disappointment ran down my cheeks. As I rounded the corner I saw the tough guys driving off. They either didn't notice me or had decided it was time to go before the police arrived. I kept running to my friend. They hadn't beaten him! He was completely unharmed! I was so pleased at this fact but it changed nothing of the guilt and shame I felt.
I apologised to my friend and he told me that it didn't matter. He told me that they were after me and not him and that he absolutely genuinely thought that in running I'd done the right thing. No harm no foul, he said. And he meant it – a far better friend than I. I didn't see things his way. I knew he was lucky they hadn't decided to take it out on him. I knew it was my fault, or at least it would have been – could have been. No harm but certainly a foul.
I learned that night that sometimes we have to choose. Our actions are what define us because it is by what we do that we discover and determine who we are. We can let the autopilot take over or we can be deliberate in our actions. We can choose the consequences but we cannot hide from them. Choose wisely. Some wounds never heal. I will always know that on that night I chose wrong. I let myself be a coward and I left my friend behind. It was a night that changed my life.
Strength is a commitment you must make before the event. Since that night I have met other situations to test my character, some of them very serious. I have felt the same fear and the same dread. In my mind I have felt my teeth break and my flesh split before the attack has begun and I have been terrified of what was about to come. I have felt my pulse stop, my life end. But I have never again run, no matter how desperately I have wanted to. I have never again left a friend or even a total stranger behind.
But what does this have to do with religion? Why am I telling you all of this?
It's simple.
Although I have never believed in a god there have been times when I have not been as certain in my atheism as I am now. Although I have not really believed, I have feared damnation. I have felt myself burn in hell. When my life has been at its hardest and most miserable I have wanted to believe in god. I have wanted to surrender to my fear. But I could not, thanks to the lesson I learned that night.
Even if the god of the bible or koran were real then I would be compelled to stand as his enemy. His promise of eternal damnation for so many, in fact for any, is wrong. It's that simple. I would rather stand with the damned and wait for my flesh to sear than be an eternal coward in a paradise afterlife that the mere act of acceptance absolutely proves I do not deserve. In short, god can go fuck himself. I choose to be moral and I choose to be strong. I will not leave anybody behind.
Those who let the bible or the koran choose for them what is right and what is wrong are cowards. Those that meet danger or disaster with faith are cowards overall regardless of how temporarily courageous they may appear. No matter what physical danger they face they are hiding inside, surrendering to the biggest bully of them all. They are taking no personal responsibility for their actions. They are leaving strangers, friends and even family behind.
They have surrendered to their fear and all of their talk is nothing more than excuses to obfuscate the fact that they truly believe and yet still choose to let almost everybody else burn without even raising a complaint. The collaborators of god are true enemies of their fellow man. As surely as those that stoked the furnaces at Auschwitz did an evil thing, those that stoke the furnaces of hell with their worship of a truly evil god are guilty of the same, but on an almost unimaginably greater scale. They truly believe and yet they accept.
Their true reason is not love. It is fear. False gods - true cowards.
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The October issue of Scientific American has an article titled Searching for God in the Brain. I'll be honest and admit that I haven't read it yet and so I cannot comment on whether there is anything new in there, but no doubt it will be interesting reading and hopefully it will be a little more careful than some things they have published in the past: ;)
"That the automobile has practically reached the limit of its development is suggested by the fact that during the past year no improvements of a radical nature have been introduced."
Scientific American, Jan. 2 edition, 1909.
"... too far-fetched to be considered."
Editor of Scientific American, in a letter to Robert Goddard about Goddard's idea of a rocket-accelerated airplane bomb, 1940 (German V2 missiles came down on London 3 years later).
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In writing up the ultimate answer I have been thinking intensely on the criticisms and questions that will be raised. By education I am a physicist, but honestly that was a long time ago. I am rusty.
I'm finding it extremely heavy going but I have yet to find a fault with this solution. I have been going through everything from entropy to M-Theory, trying to find fault with what I am thinking or at least find clues to suggest that I am wrong. In the process I've realised a number of other questions that I have to solve and for which, I believe, the ultimate answer enables a solution to be found. Currently I'm working on the speed of light. Why is it what it is? Why is it a limitation? How exactly does that information conform to the solution I have at hand or how can it prove me wrong? In the most basic yet descriptive of terms, this is turning into a total head fuck! But like all fucks, it holds the promise of total bliss.
I want to start to say what it is that I have been thinking but I know that if I do I will face a barrage of criticism much stronger than anything I have faced before. If the t's aren't crossed and the i's are not dotted there's a very real risk that even if I finally say something insightful and accurate, assuming I am not simply deluded, that no one will take a blind bit of notice and may even be turned off of the idea, which I am increasingly secure holds some significant truth.
At this point I am obsessed. I think of everything in terms of this solution and I am constantly checking the solution against everything. I am thinking about hundreds of things each day and ensuring that everything fits. I am on the verge of saying something either truly profound or truly idiotic. I suppose it will be either my shame or my glory. All I care about is that I know which one it is for myself before I let everyone else pass their judgement. Then, I really don't care if anyone agrees.
I am 98% certain. I want to be 99.9999999% certain. Everyday the figure changes and so far it has only increased.
I am prepared to drop a couple of hints. Parallel universes will be used as a means of introducing some concepts but I am convinced that there are not parallel universes, at least not as they are thought of - as separate systems. They are a useful way of thinking as a sort of simplified model of what there really is - which I think is going to be a bit of a surprise. The core concept is necessarily incomprehensible but that does not prevent it from being useful, much like quantum physics is so incredibly strange to our minds and yet has been shown to work. Oh, and there is no time but relativity can still be explained in a consistent way. And finally, logic has a reason why - it is possible to say why.
I'm likely going to be quiet for a while whilst I struggle through these non-classical conundrums with a classically limited mind. But even if I find fault I am going to write up and publish what I've got, explaining the fault I find. Someone smarter than me, better educated than me, might be able to take it from there.
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