More religious fireworks

I cannot imagine why my younger brother thinks that just because I once bought a large-print Bible for Daddy that that is proof that I "do believe." Sorry, Bro. I've given lots of gifts of things I would not want for myself. Hasn't everyone? I do confess that at that time in my life--when my older son was a baby, and I was recovering from childbirth, pneumonia, and isolation--I went through a period of "belief." I remember praying that Sheila's marriage to Wayne would stay intact. Like Truman Capote once noted, it's the answered prayers we should worry about, not the un-answered ones. They did stay together, for a while. If they had not broken up, though, Sheila would not now be married to Gary, who treats her like a queen.

Delmer basically told me that I was going to hell. Of course, he sandwiched that sentiment with concerns that he loved me and wanted me to be saved, like he was. Oh, whoopee. Once I get saved, Delmer, can I cheat on my spouse the way you've cheated on yours? Can I parent so badly that my kids either run away from home or get taken away by the courts? Of course, as EVERYONE knows, you can trust good Christian people to be highly moral and good examples for the rest of us. Yeah. Uh huh.

And then my cousin Walt posts this video, the one in which the child Einstein supposedly proves there is a god. Geez. Talk about old chestnuts.

Today is Easter. That means nothing to me. When the boys were young, we hid eggs, but we never did anything religious.

Recently this group came to Grand Rapids promoting the "message" that the Rapture would occur on May 21, and that if you were still around on May 22, you'd been left behind. The entire world would be ending a few months later, according to their predictions. Sadly, my older son's mother-in-law believes that shit. Stephen is worried not only that she will take her own life, but also that she'll try to take people with her. People like her only child, Stephen's wife, Heather. Fingers crossed. After all, that will do just as much good as prayer. Which means "none at all." As I told my brother, praying was the equivalent to sending letters to Santa Claus.

I've been accused of being angry. I guess I am angry, angry that so many otherwise intelligent and rational people will devote so much time and money to something so blatantly false. Imagine the good that could be done in the world if all that time and money and passion were devoted to something real. Instead of building these huge churches or tithing, we could be helping the homeless or feeding the starving in Haiti. I know churches do some of that work, but when I think about the fat-cat preachers with their shiny expensive suits and their big cars and huge McMansion churches--like Gloria Steinem, I want to see those churches turned into day-car centers. I want to see ministers and preachers out picking up garbage or serving food at McDonald's. Priests? Those guys need to get a good lay, but not with an altar boy. Or child of any type.

I will not give up the fight. It's hopeless, no doubt, but I will not quit. I'm tired of having my rights trampled on. Just this Saturday morning, the doorbell rang shortly before 11 a.m. It was a mother-daughter proselytizing team. I told them no thanks, that I was an atheist. They could not get off the porch fast enough. No doubt they expected me to hex them or something. People are so stupid. They sometimes even believe, like my colleague Nate, that atheism is simply another "belief system," like his own narrow-minded viewpoint.

While my brother was busy insulting me, he even managed to insult the photograph of our Grandma Cockerham, saying it was a "wicked" pictures. Geez. I'll bet you whistle through graveyards, too, bro. Admittedly, Grandma Cockerham was old, harsh-looking, and mean, but she wasn't wicked, nor was the photo wicked.