Some clips that are funny as hell, one that isn't very funny at all...

This is one of the funniest clips from the Simpsons yet: not only does it lampoon the xtian view, it actually captures it spot on:



The next one not only spoofs xtianity, I think it EPITOMIZES the lack of knowledge the large percentage of the xtians in this country have of their own book of fables:



The next one however, saddens me to no end, as I always respected Chuck Norris (as a man, NOT as an actor, mind you):



If you watch as Mr. Norris talks, you'll note that his head wobbles, ever so slightly.

Very, very sad. Newsflash, Chuckles: no, NOT founded as an xtian nation, no, the Supreme Court has NOT okayed the bibble for use in schools, it's NOT an historical work, all in all, it's just a book, and a very poorly written one at that, full of egregious errors, contradictions, and LIES.

And the sooner everyone understands that, the better off we'll all be.

Till the next post, then.

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VOTE OUT THE RUBBER STAMP!

November is right around the corner. Time to trim the Shrub.

This caught my eye, in the Nation:

BUSH AIMS TO KILL WAR CRIMES ACT

(snip)
“The US War Crimes Act of 1996 makes it a felony to commit grave violations of the Geneva Conventions. The Washington Post recently reported that the Bush administration is quietly circulating draft legislation to eliminate crucial parts of the War Crimes Act. Observers on The Hill say the Administration plans to slip it through Congress this fall while there still is a guaranteed Republican majority--perhaps as part of the military appropriations bill, the proposals for Guantánamo tribunals or a new catch-all "anti-terrorism" package. Why are they doing it, and how can they be stopped?”
(snip)

"As David Cole of the Georgetown University Law Center pointed out in the August 10 issue of The New York Review of Books, the Supreme Court's decision in Hamdan v. Rusmfeld "suggests that President Bush has already committed a war crime, simply by establishing the [Guantánamo] military tribunals and subjecting detainees to them" because "the Court found that the tribunals violate Common Article 3--and under the War Crimes Act, any violation of Common Article 3 is a war crime." A similar argument would indicate that top US officials have also committed war crimes by justifying interrogation methods that, according to the testimony of US military lawyers, also violate Common Article 3.”

(snip)
“Lo and behold, the legislation the Administration has circulated on Capitol Hill would decriminalize such acts retroactively. Eugene Fidell, president of the National Institute of Military Justice, told the Associated Press on August 10, "I think what this bill can do is in effect immunize past crimes. That's why it's so dangerous." Human rights attorney Scott Horton told Democracy Now! on August 16 that one of the purposes of the proposed legislation is "to grant immunity or impunity to certain individuals. And these are mostly decision-makers within the government."
(end snip)

In short, this administration is giving itself ANOTHER FREE PASS. What’s my motto, troops? NO FREE PASSES. I don’t give a rat’s fart in a whirlwind WHO you are.

We got us a president who wasn’t elected, hiding behind tragedy every time he screws up, who squelchs dissent in a country that IS a ‘Free Speech Zone’ (every bloody inch of it!), who invades a country on the bidding of an invisible voice, who essentially lives in a Nixonian coccoon (he doesn’t read newspapers, he only watches football on the TV, nothing else – we the people are at the mercy of his misguided advisors), who surrounds himself with syncophants (some of whom actually QUIT), hell, let’s wrap this up and just state for the record: this guy couldn’t run his own nose if he had a lousy cold.
And a Republican congress/senate with a Republican president? So far, it hasn’t worked out well AT ALL.

I’d like to see this clown impeached. But right now, I’d settle for the voice of the people ripping his rubber stamp right out of his fist. He’s run this country by the seat of his pants, and guess what? His ass is hanging out. And this ain’t a strip club: the American people have bigger problems to deal with, and better things to look at.

So get your butts out there, and VOTE, people. Yes, you can register online – here’s the California link, your resident senator or congressman (woman, person, gah! Do I hate the PC crap these days!) is bound to have some way to do this online. I was unsure, registered last week, got my form today.

So let’s trim the Shrub, chasten the chimp, and boot out some of the sock puppet’s sock puppets.

“You measure a democracy by the freedom it gives its dissidents, not the freedom it gives its assimilated conformists.”- Abbie Hoffman

“When decorum is repression, the only dignity free men have is to speak out.” – Abbie Hoffman

“No man is above the law and no man is below it; nor do we ask any man's permission when we ask him to obey it.” – Theodore Roosevelt

Till the next post, then.

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TAG, I’M IT! NO, I’M NOT WILDLIFE, NOR DO I USE A BODY SPRAY…

My dear friend Stardust has tagged me with a book-reading meme. We’re both avid readers (mine stems from doing very poorly in school in my teenage years, ergo, I was ‘grounded for life until further notice’, so I had to fill in the hours SOMEHOW).

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m somewhat of a ‘scattered’ reader. I tend to jump from one title to another, much like water on an old-fashioned hot grill, so bear with me here.

1. A book that changed your life

Out of all of them, this is perhaps the strangest: Chinese boxing, Masters and Methods by Robert W. Smith. If I hadn’t read this back in the late 70’s, I’d not have learned about Tai Chi, which subsequently led me to quit doing drugs altogether, and the practice thereof has given me some peace of mind, a hobby, and an alternative income when I fall on hard times. Oh, and Paine’s Age of Reason. That bad boy rang my bell big time.

2. A book you’ve read more than once
Aye caramba! I mean there’s just been so many of these. I’ve re-read all my Harlan Ellison hardbounds and paperbacks multiple times, Donaldson’s trilogies, Tolkien’s trilogy, some graphic novels (Gaiman’s the Sandman series, Carey’s the Lucifer series), the bible, the Tao Te Ching, the Tai Chi classics, I have no idea where to begin on this one. Dick’s Valis. Roger Zelazny’s Lord of Light. Most of Clive Barker’s earlier novels. I could fill a hundred pages on this one alone.

3. 1 book you’d want on a desert island
This is a toss up: How to survive anything, or the SAS survival guide.

4. 1 book that made you giddy
I don’t do giddy.

5. 1 book you wish that had been written
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to Religion (hehehehe, that’s the best I can come up with).

6. 1 book that made you sob
Moby Dick. The passion, the strength. Sure, Melville digressed once too often (the chapter on the seaman lecturing the sharks was kinda silly), but wow! Truth is, I watched the recent release of it (with Patrick Stewart), and I wept at the end. Mostly out of envy: I wish I could write with such passion and vigor. Whenever I read Ellison’s Paladin of the Lost Hour, I always weep at the end.

7. 1 book you wish had never been written
Aye caramba! Again, there’s just been so many of these. Multiple religious tomes. Mein Kampf. The Politically Incorrect guide to Evolution. Mastering Witchcraft (that one goofed me up BIG TIME!). C.S Lewis’ marginally awful fantasies. Kinda like going to the dump, and picking the worst garbage. I’ll have to go with Lewis’ Mere Christianity, though, as I’m thoroughly fed up with that ‘objective morality’ crap that keeps cropping up.


8. 1 book you’re currently reading
Currently, I’m reading the Penultimate Truth by Phillip K. Dick. Not his best by far.

9. 1 book you’ve been meaning to read
There are a few of these. I can’t seem to wade through Doestoevsky’s works (I can only take so much angst, before the whining gets to me) – Dickens, Tolstoy. The big problem here is – I may have read all three of these guys (I kid you not – voracious is an understatement when it comes to reading – at one point in my life, I had a six-book-a-week habit).

Now I run off, and yell TAG! You’re it!My buddies, Frances the Magnificent, Aaron Kinney, Mojoey over at Deep Thoughts, Beep! Beep! It’s Me!, and Aviaa.

Addendum: As Beep! Beep! had already been tagged, I just tagged Future Geek.

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THE ID GONE WILD – WE ALL HEAR VOICES

Oh, my stars and garters – it took me long enough to figure this out.

This recent thread, a fairly nice fella (whom I encountered on the NGB) posted, I fisked the contents (somewhat), and of course, being an old guy and somewhat analytic (I flatter myself, I know), I began reminiscing and analyzing, and I had something of an epiphany (yeah, yeah, it’s a religious word, so what?).

Here’s the base of my response (his words are in bold, mine are underlined):
But if you won't believe the voice in your own mind, why would you believe the evidence of your senses, interpreted, as it must be by your own mind?
I think I covered this already. I’m pretty positive that was my subconscious, trying to fill the gap my ego was struggling to deal w/. We’re talking many, many hours of wrestling w/the issue. & we are all familiar w/humanity’s ability to rationalize anything. Besides which, if someone hears a voice in their head, & it’s named ‘Bob’, they get medication: they hear ‘god’, & it’s a free pass? I say it’s all right to listen to your right hemisphere: but we don’t let it dictate our lives to us 100%.
It's not hard for a lunatic to imagine that 1/3 of the world's population has vanished... And you already sort of think you're a lunatic - Imagining voices in your head in the night... You already doubt your own mind.
Ah, but the difference between the delusion & the reality – something like that, I would check against other interpretations (the populace vanishing). I maintain we’re all lunatics; there are just some of us a little more benign than others. For the record, I heard voices thru most of my early 20’s – as my substance abuse habits diminished, so did they. I’d sporadically hear them – when I lived alone, interesting, that – but once they became an irritant, rather than frightening, they diminished some more. Coupla times, nodding off, I’d hear my name shouted, right next to me: I’d roll my eyes, & turn over, ignore it.Been voice-free since 2004. Ever since I said NO to that one voice.

Sucking down my fifth cup o’ coffee (java junkie, guilty as charged), I came to this startling conclusion:

We all have voices in our heads.

Bear with me here: I’m not saying humanity is absolutely batshit in toto – if this is normal for the majority, how could we be? Let’s examine the meme. How many of you have encountered the phrase, “A little voice in her/his head” in literature? I’ve seen it far more than once. Or “Something told him/her” this that or the other thing? “I told myself” or “My gut told me so”, etc.? How about the old saw, where the devil is on one shoulder, the angel on another, each advising the character/person on how to deal with a moral dilemma? Or ‘I wrestled with my conscience?’ Or ‘wresting with his/her demons’?

This of course, is not an entirely new concept – Julian Jaynes, in his The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind posits that humanity, in the earlier civilizations, didn’t have the buffer that modern man does, and that in actuality our ancestors listened to these ‘voices’ that proceeded from the right hemisphere. An interesting theory, and I haven’t read the book (I encourage the reader to go to Amazon, and read ALL the reviews, good and bad), but I have ordered it (as of today). But in lieu of all these memories brought bubbling to the surface, it makes SO much more sense.

So here’s the skeleton – I will flesh it out, put skin and muscle on it - of the base concept: thanks to evolution and the adaptability factor that has made us the dominant species, our brains began evolving past the ‘social insect stage’ (most ancient civilizations can be classified as such), and as our interactions with each other became more complex, so too did our brains. You exercise a muscle (physical or mental); it gets bigger. It gets bigger, it gets more complex.

Thus far – brain as muscle. Now we get to the pack/herd mentality. It’s no secret to any of us that we are indeed a pack animal. So much so, that the worst punishment in prison is ‘solitary’ – complete isolation from the pack. As our interactions with one another grow more complex, so then does the language. The language is ‘voice’ – we require it at this (or any) stage of civilization. We all need someone to talk to, right? We require an ear to hear, someone to listen, no? Don’t we love the sound of our own voices, vocal or not?

I have spoken before on the need for the anthropic principle here, and so will not burden the reader again.

As such, when we hear a voice, we associate it with another person. We need to associate it with someone else. And if there’s no one about to associate that voice with? Either you give it a name and a reason, or you turn yourself in (or get turned in) to a medical facility. Or you wander about the streets aimlessly, having discussions with unseen creatures. There are nuances, of course. From Son of Sam to Pat Robertson to Billy Graham, it can go from ridiculously destructive to the ridiculous to the benignly ludicrous.

I am firmly convinced that all that little ‘voice’ we hear, whether religious or no, is simply the id, the subconscious if you would prefer, mistranslating the needs of the ego and superego in a simplistic manner (there’s that dratted number three again, go figure!).

At some point, whether it’s the five-year phase Freud stipulated, or some time in the future (far or near), some kind of damage is done to that filter. If it’s a minor trauma, minor damage, ergo a minor religious bent, or just neurosis (or both). Again, as in all things, there are nuances. The higher the scale of trauma, the wider the gap of disassociation – from schizophrenia to DID (those two get associated with one another, how ironic, ey?) all the way up to psychopathy. All contingent on the damage done to that filter. And hey, to quote Harlan Ellison: “None of us walk through the fire unscathed.”

So whether it’s a result of childhood abuse, self-abuse (drugs, escapism), pain visited upon us from the external world (the small or large accident, violent interaction, etc.), somewhere, somehow, the filter gets bent out of true. Our internal dialogue is thrown off its cadence (that term, by the way, I learned from the charlatan Carlos Castaneda, long before that quack Dr. Phil started using it, back in the late 70’s – early 80’s), the vocabulary becomes more abstract, and context is rendered allegorically askew.

So that’s my theory in a nutshell. You hear a voice in your head?It’s just you, don’t worry about it.

Till the next post, then.

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THE FOLLOWED ITSELF

I am asked this on occasion, and it is a fair question indeed: “What would it take, for you to believe in God?”

It is a tough one: what indeed? Extract a small essence of the divine, in a tube, to be tested, probed, burnt over a Bunsen burner? What would qualify? How then, would a spiritual or incorporeal entity be encapsulated in a manner that would satisfy the most cynical amongst us? Could we view such a thing under a microscope, or capture it via the Hubble telescope? Is there some mysterious code written on every molecule, atom, muon or quark of creation itself? A signature, a magic word properly pronounced that would unweave the very core of the universe, as the ancient Cabbalists would claim? Or is it some Deistic construct, a distant uncaring entity that has done its work, and now rests on the seventh day, one day eternal?

I am quite sure that any deity composed in the imagination of man is simply an effort to cast the universe in the shape of our tiny shadow, an egotistical endeavor, a hubris hope born of our intense self-involvement.

What then, would change my atheism to theism?

This then, is what I require:

To quote Thomas Paine, from his Age of Reason, Chapter II, Of Missions and Revelations:

“Revelation then, so far as the term has relation between God and man, can only be applied to something which God reveals of his will to man; but though the power of the Almighty to make such a communication is necessarily admitted, because to that power all things are possible, yet, the thing so revealed (if any thing ever was revealed, and which, by the bye, it is impossible to prove) is revelation to the person only to whom it is made. His account of it to another is not revelation; and whoever puts faith in that account, puts it in the man from whom the account comes; and that man may have been deceived, or may have dreamed it; or he may be an impostor and may lie. There is no possible criterion whereby to judge of the truth of what he tells; for even the morality of it would be no proof of revelation.”

That is your answer. I require a revelation. If it is only confined to me, then so be it.

When I was struggling with the question, years ago, I was praying, I’d lay in bed, asking, begging for some sort of sign, a revelation.

At one point, I recall hearing a voice in my skull. It was a deep, sonorous voice that one would normally associate with an All-Father. I cannot recall the words verbatim, only that Cecil B. DeMille-style bass tone.

And I told that voice NO.

I told it that I was only a man, a finite man, and that I, like any other human being, was capable of self-deception. I am as capable of delusion as anyone else. That that voice could very well be my subconscious, duping me for complex reasons that I could not parse out, being as they were mine, and so blinded by them.

Of course, being a divine, omnipotent being, it would know that, right?

And so I waited. For what, you might ask? For a sign, a real sign, not some obscure face in cuisine, or a structure of man or nature that just happened to bear some vague resemblance to a divine portent. Something with breadth and depth and length, identifiable by the three dimensions, and perceivable by the five senses. Even if it was confined to me, and me alone.

I waited for a miracle, an augur, a frith or omen. It did not have to be a large one: a small one, a miniscule one would have done nicely. An appearance, a vision, something personal, that would intaglio on my brain once and for all the existence of this deity the bible called God.

I had some dreams, but the first one went not well at all. The second was mostly jagged imagery.

There will be those theists, who say I asked too much. That only a ‘sinful generation will demand a sign’, or that I counted myself too important in the grand scheme of things. I did not fancy myself Saul of Tarsus, to be blinded in the desert, or a Stephen, to be buried beneath thrown stones. I needed no burning bush, or a parting of the heavens. That would’ve been nice, but not necessary.

A loving, caring father would not withhold his hand from such a deed, would he? Being omnipotent, omniscient, omni-whatever, such a being would know exactly my need, and provide for it, no? A simple pointing in the proper direction would’ve done nicely, thanks much.

And there I stood, waiting. For something, anything that would validate my desire to believe. Rest assured, I wanted to. I’d spent much of my wastrel youth on fripperies such as Tarot cards and witchcraft (which I gave up, because of the bible no less), discussed theological matters intently (and getting as worked up as a Baptist preacher on Sunday), studied comparative religions, read the bible, read all sorts of books on the subject, from the sublime to the ridiculous, and anyone who knew me better than a passing acquaintance would’ve told you: “He’s a believer, all right.” Certainly, I’d been to the occasional church, but I’ve always viewed religious belief as a private affair – sharing only with those willing, respecting those who would not. I’d always had an innate respect for all things religious – those Hallmark specials about the apostles, or some saccharine offering from Hollyweird or the glass teat almost always managed to make me daub my eye. I’d even played with the thought of entering a religious order. Which one? Never quite decided. I even read the book of Revelation, and found myself weeping in fear.

And rest assured, had that sign been sent, that revelation revealed, a minor miracle mandated, what you would be reading now would be the complete opposite. I am a passionate person, and a sharing one, and I would have shouted it from the rooftops: I could very well have been pounding a bible on a pulpit, bellowing brimstone and fishing for souls, spreading the good news for all and sundry.

Alas, such was not to be. There will be those critics who claim that I hardened my heart, or that I simply didn’t wish for the ‘good times’ to end (I was on hard times then, and still am, so that’s out the window), or any number of excuses for why this small mendication was neglected, ignored, choose the verb of your choice.

Why then, did I not consult with someone with some experience in this matter? After forty-some odd years on this planet (going on fifty very soon), I was and am well acquainted with my species, and I know that men lie. Not all, but some, and an investigation of religion has proved this to me: it does not make anyone wiser, or more honest.

And so I still wait. For that event that will once and for all burn indelibly into my brain and heart the existence of this amorphous being that some are willing to kill for, die for, wage war over, shackle the heart and manacle the mind for.

Make me a miracle. Send me a sign. Smite me, or soothe me. Write your name in the crackling heavens with lightning bolts, or grant me Daniel’s vision: Mene, mene, tekel upharsin, a ghostly hand or even a ghost. Whisper in my ear the sweet nothings of the netherworld, or have demons dance in my dreams. There are a million methods by which I can be convinced. But like Didymus, I will need to see and touch the wounds.

I place the burden of proof squarely, not on the followers, but on the followed itself.

Come then, and show me. Else, to my grave I go, convinced that this flesh is all that there is, and naught comes after.

Show me you love me.

Or just show me.

Show me.

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WHALING ON WALMART - THE HIGH COST OF LOW SACRIFICES

There’s a petition going around, and the first paragraph reads thusly:”We, the undersigned, respectfully request that Wal-Mart Stores, Inc. cease distribution of the book known as the Holy Bible. We make this request after careful consideration, having examined numerous passages in the Holy Bible that are repulsive, stridently offensive and/or illegal. The following five examples reveal the obscene nature of this book and help you to understand why we are making this request.”

It’s a good idea, I agree with all of the points, and I would like nothing more than to see this ‘literary work’ off the shelves.

I am not going to sign it, however. Let me explain.

Thus far, atheists as a rule are viewed as naysayers. It seems that our press is WAY less than favorable. Everywhere I turn around, it seems like we’re always saying ‘no’ to someone. Sometimes I agree, sometimes not. Case in point: the War on Easter. Sure, it was more of tongue-in-cheek effort (from what little I garner), but to the droves of the hoi polloi, it appears to be a nasty attack on children on an egg hunt. I personally think that ole Peter Cottontail has actually helped dilute the meme. When I was a kid, we did the Lent thing (not very successfully, I might add), our ‘celebration’ consisted of cavity causing chocolate bunnies and coloring eggs. Our energies are better-spent educating folks as to the pagan origins, rather than mount what seems to be a soiree aimed at a bunny.

The War on Xmas is another one. Here we have a deeply entrenched holiday (we can safely skip over the pagan origins at this point) in most Western countries, and it’s losing it’s meaning rapidly. Between the over-commercialization, the sad-sack wino Santas that seem to grow with each passing year, it’s viewed by the unwashed masses as an attack on old Saint Nick (“You got a problem with a jolly old guy who give kids PRESENTS? You gotta be kiddin’ me!”), and it’s losing a lot of its meaning. Not to mention the tradition of families getting together on select dates.

We need to take into account the perversity of human nature, as well. Chances are, more people are likely to step up antagonistically to bat, and we may cause more interest instead of less. This may very well spur sales, rather than nullify them. I think more people will actually go out of their way to purchase the bloody things (though if you really want to, you can actually get a freebie), just to toss a silent vote into the fray (“I showed them nasty ole atheists, I did!”).

Don’t get me wrong: I want religion gone, to be sure. Right now, however, our public relations campaign seems to be primarily one of negativity – and most Americans don’t really care about right and wrong, they want warm fuzzy feelings, even if the root of those feelings is a load of crap. Try taking something away from someone that makes them feel good – even if it’s bogus – and watch the fireworks begin. This is on an individual as well as a collective level.

My point here is that we need to contribute more positive items to the world. Charity work, volunteer work, throw some money at a recurring problem, hell, give out free copies of the Atheist Manifesto, or The End of Faith (‘cause let’s face it, you can get all sorts of bibles for free, or next to nothing – sure, you get what you pay for and all, but when it comes to the Almighty Dollar, people ain’t gonna pay extra for something unless the novelty value is extreme, and most think that we believe in ‘nothing’ – where’s the value in that?).

Short version, is what I’m always trying to teach my 17-year-old niece – pick your battles. Choose the ones you can win.
Or, to quote Sun Tzu’s Art of War:”Do not camp on difficult ground. Unite with your allies on intersecting ground. Do not stay on open ground. Be prepared on surrounded ground. Do battle on deadly ground.”

The way to win hearts and minds is not to deprive, but to provide. Alternatives. Different paths. Open a gate, open a mind, or plant a seed.

One last quote, and I’m done:”You have to be the change in the world you want to see.”

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AND THE WORD OF THE DAY IS…

…Tolerance.
This is a much bandied about word on the Internet, and the blogosphere. And each side of the culture wars accuses the other of the lack thereof.

So, let’s examine the definition.

Tolerance –
n.

1. The capacity for or the practice of recognizing and respecting the beliefs or practices of others.


2. Leeway for variation from a standard.


3. The permissible deviation from a specified value of a structural dimension, often expressed as a percent.
(I will skip the others: it’s readily apparent what I’m talking about).

Let’s also compare the opposite:
Intolerance
(From the Thesaurus)
Irrational suspicion or hatred of a particular group, race, or religion: bigotry, prejudice. See like/dislike.

So now the premises have been dictated. The lines drawn, the swords unsheathed, the soldiers on either side girded for battle, awaiting the clarion call when combat becomes enjoined and the blood flows.

Okay, I’m being a tad melodramatic.

I have been accused of being intolerant of religion. However, if we look at the definition as provided above, I would like to state for the record, that my suspicion and hatred is by no means irrational. It is based on a long, long history of micro-management, control issues, blatant propaganda, and nursery fables gone wild.

For the record, I don’t hate religious people (though there are times when it becomes difficult, I tell myself they’re not to blame, they’ve been indoctrinated, deep breaths, stay calm now. There are some specific folks, well, if they came within arm’s reach, it would take a considerable effort combined with white knuckles not to take after them….). It is that social construct I loathe, those much beloved shackles of slavery, that bind a man and then explain the manacles are a good thing, the manacles are necessary, for we are evil incarnate, forged from mud and spittle into beings of darkness that will be cast out of favor unless we pay drooling imbecilic worship to that which never was.

http://www.holysmoke.org/tol-rgi.htm
“First. Thought is a necessary natural product -- the result of what is called impressions made through the medium of the senses upon the brain, not forgetting the fact of heredity.

Second. No human being is accountable to any being -- human or divine -- for his or her thoughts.

Third. Human beings have a certain interest in the thoughts of each other, and one who undertakes to tell his thoughts should be honest.

Fourth. All have an equal right to express their thoughts upon all subjects.

Fifth. For one man to say to another, "I tolerate you," is an assumption of authority -- not a disclaimer, but a waiver, of the right to persecute.

Sixth. Each man has the same right to express to the whole world his ideas that the rest of the world has to express their thoughts to him.”

The Works of ROBERT G. INGERSOLL

I adhere specifically to number five. It speaks to me. All six do. But that one especially makes sense in these trying times.

And so, each and every thinking person, when accused of intolerance should, in my humble opinion, instead of resorting to the K-12 tactic of saying “I know you are, but what am I?” should go and stand in front of a mirror, and ask themselves:”Is this true? Am I intolerant?” Because if you make those distinctions, those divisive discriminations that elevate one class, one element, one subsection of humanity above another, where none are being harmed, then yes, you are. And if so, you should be shouted down, in the name of all that’s decent, all that’s good and right and proper. In plain sight. Because that’s not persecution, my friend. That’s because you’ve assumed an authority that you are not entitled to. Whether it’s via an illusory contact from on high, or some ancient tome.

I have looked in the mirror, as any honest man should, and asked the question, baldly, bluntly, self-awareness intact.

Everyone is equal. There is my answer. But I shall not suffer foolish opinions gladly: that is not intolerance – the opinion is not the person. So I will treat you as a peer, but if you voice a thought that is laughably ridiculous, rest assured, I will mock it; I shall laugh in your face, I shall shout it down, if necessary. That is how the shadows of ignorance are dispelled. Not through the listless recitations of facts – these usually have little impact on the closed mind – but satire and mockery.

I will try to be polite – but consider yourself warned, thicken your skin, turn the other cheek, or whatever mechanism props you up and powers you through the scathing barbs.

I am no weak little progressive liberal, who waffles on about “Well, I respect your opinion, even if it I don’t agree with it.” I am not paralyzed by the foolishness of such a position. I am through being patient: if you are willing to listen, and present something logical, I will listen, I will debate.
There is a difference between tolerance, and agreement with stupidity.

And I am not stupid, nor shall I agree with it: a stupid opinion is just that.

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