Still Pondering Humankind's Insistence That there Is a God

[anniemal]

If, in sixty-five years God has not manifested itself in my life in any way that cannot be attributed to other causes, even if logic can't prove a negative, I am now an atheist, hated by all foolish stupid Believers. Jews, Chistians Mormons, Idiots All.

Comments

[malada]

For myself, I prefer the term agnostic. This leaves me room for small gods, spirits and other entities. At the moment and with the "words" that these entities have provided - none of them are worth worshiping, killing or dying for.

Agnostic

[anniemal]

I started atheist at five. I agreed to agnostic somewhere in my teens, because it didn't upset people as much. I felt like a weenie "Go along, get along.". I do believe in brownies, elves, pixies, ents, and most other creatures who aren't Gods. How else can I explain unpaired socks and pliers and scissors that periodically disappear and reappear? I have had the same pair of cherry-handled needlenose pliers and Farr paper scissors since 3rd grade, but have misplaced both at various times for up to 3 yrs. Also a pair of black-handled mini box-joint seriously needlenose pliers. They disappeared after a visit to Mom in 2000. I took them along with my dog should we run into cactus in a bad way. They disappeared for 5 yrs. I love pliers. And how did the channelocks Brent lost turn up again? Gotta be Little Folk. That's where any cookies left out go.

But what do they do with all those socks? Sleeping bags? Swaddling soft knits? That would explain their need for scissors. And then there was the "South Park" episode with underpants gnomes. I guess I don't have them. I must have 50 or 70 pair and I hardly ever wear them. I went hrough the drawer a week or so ago, and got rid of some that were shreddy ynogh that I wouldn't want to be caught dead in them, but I just have a hard time tossing things I might want again. You know--live long enough and Things Change. I might want underwear again someday. And there are so many kinds.

Do you have a formula (other than moving frequently) for getting rid of things? Brent wants to move into the house he sort of grew up in in NORTH CAROLINA. Greensboro, not Charlotte. Why does he want to move to a state with racism and politics still in the Dark Ages? I don't want to live in the house of the Racist Mother-in-Law who ridiculed and hated me. Cynthia was Mean, and I, being me, kept trying to be nice and hoped to endear myself to her when my likeability to her was sealed before I was born. For about seven years. After she handed me the ugliest necklace I've ever seen for a present and told me about how she had one with animals on it but a friend of hers admired it so she gave it to her, I hit a hard stop. Didn't go to her funeral, either. How am I to care about someone who rejects me because of my colour in this day and age? Like short white females have a whole lotta sway. I can't hate her, because I understand her resentment. I just wish she could've given me a chance. I married her son. I obviously care more about content than colour. Why's she gotta hate me, too? We even shared the same politics, albeit not possibly from the same perspective. Now I am moving into this meanie's house, in a red state. DAMN!

I've rambled on, fought with Grammarly, and finally gotten them off my case. I'd rather try to edit myself. They don't like my multiple contractions. They think "I'd've" isn't legal. Bah.