Mjarc
Once again, in Kankakee, the God Issue came up, and I'm left looking like an asshole because I have a different view, though I'm not the one that's been bringing it up lately. Ever since I expressed my thoughts to my circle of friends up here, every little transgression is turned into a Relgion v. There's Marc The Fucking Atheist topic. For example:
Leaving the Jewel-Osco checkout line when Angie sneezes. I keep walking, she stops. "You could've said 'Bless You, Helgy ***1***.'"
I turn around. "Hell no!" She looks cross at me.
"Just say 'bless you,'" she says.
"No, baby. Not going to do it."
"Come on. Just say something nice, at least." She's pleading, and acting whiny.
"Fine," I reply. "It really sucks that you sneezed."
"That sucked."
"What sucked?"
"Your nice thing to say wasn't very nice." Her hands are on her hips, and she's stopped dead in her tracks. "Say 'bless you'." The only reason she's trying to make me say it is because she knows I won't. I'm being goaded into this conversation.
"I won't, because when you say 'bless you', the 'God' at the beginning is implied. It's no different than you looking at me and saying 'go get the car'. There's no question who you're talking about. You're talking about me. I am the implied 'you' at the beginning of that sentence. You can't force me to say 'bless you' because its religious in nature. Let's get out of here." I begin walking out the door. Angie still stands motionless.
"Fine!" she yells. "Bless me! See, Helgy, I had to do it myself. Bless me! Bless me!"
We get to the car, jokingly argue some more, until the fifteen second car ride down the street ends in the Pike's parking lot.
"I bet you don't know why they say 'bless you'," she remarks.
"No, I don't, but it still doesn't matter."
"It's because when you sneeze, your heart skips a beat." I guess I always thought it had something to do with a soul escaping during the Plague.
"That just means that my heart's rocking out, and my sneezing is just a break in the song, sista!" We give each other high fives. End conversation.
I love my girl, Angie. Always have, and I always will, but she's been saying strange things about praying for me every night before she goes to bed, and talking about me changing my tune just like Darwin before he died. While I appreciate the thought, and the fact that she's thinking about me, I think the analogy between myself and Darwin might be a bit skewed. I know a lot of people that read this think we're just a bunch of big-headed assholes that're only concerned with not sounding interesting and funny. For the most part, that's true. Yet I know that, in the ultimate scheme of things, what I do in life matters very little to a large proportion of the people on this planet. In percentages, I would say that I'd be lucky if something I did affected 0.0000000000001% of the world's population. I'll affect my parents and siblings. I'll affect my closest friends. I'll affect my wife, assuming I get married - same goes for possible children. But everyone else? Screw them. I'll leave them alone.
Darwin, on the other hand, affected a good 80% of the western civilizations' cultures. He brought into question, more than anyone before him, the notion of God and the truth of the Bible with a theory about life. I think this would've scared any man to death, especially Darwin himself. Certainly to the point of re-thinking his previous statements before he died. Think of the pressures on that man after The Origin of Species came out. Think of the religious persecution he must've faced, and the ridicule that must've been slung in his direction day after day.
Harper's Magazine just had something stating that 47% of Americans believe that the theory of evolution "probably" or "definitely" isn't true, yet they still struggle with its affects on a daily basis. Sit a non-believer down in front of the Discovery channel for a documentary about chimpanzees or even early-man, and watch their face. Guarantee they'll flip.
What's the point? I'm no Darwin. You all already knew this. My soul, if I actually had one, is fine. I've said it before, live a good life, and you should have nothing to worry about. Screw Darwin. Screw Jesus. Screw Hewlett-Packard. Just be good.
***1*** high school nickname that still sticks.
Once again, in Kankakee, the God Issue came up, and I'm left looking like an asshole because I have a different view, though I'm not the one that's been bringing it up lately. Ever since I expressed my thoughts to my circle of friends up here, every little transgression is turned into a Relgion v. There's Marc The Fucking Atheist topic. For example:
Leaving the Jewel-Osco checkout line when Angie sneezes. I keep walking, she stops. "You could've said 'Bless You, Helgy ***1***.'"
I turn around. "Hell no!" She looks cross at me.
"Just say 'bless you,'" she says.
"No, baby. Not going to do it."
"Come on. Just say something nice, at least." She's pleading, and acting whiny.
"Fine," I reply. "It really sucks that you sneezed."
"That sucked."
"What sucked?"
"Your nice thing to say wasn't very nice." Her hands are on her hips, and she's stopped dead in her tracks. "Say 'bless you'." The only reason she's trying to make me say it is because she knows I won't. I'm being goaded into this conversation.
"I won't, because when you say 'bless you', the 'God' at the beginning is implied. It's no different than you looking at me and saying 'go get the car'. There's no question who you're talking about. You're talking about me. I am the implied 'you' at the beginning of that sentence. You can't force me to say 'bless you' because its religious in nature. Let's get out of here." I begin walking out the door. Angie still stands motionless.
"Fine!" she yells. "Bless me! See, Helgy, I had to do it myself. Bless me! Bless me!"
We get to the car, jokingly argue some more, until the fifteen second car ride down the street ends in the Pike's parking lot.
"I bet you don't know why they say 'bless you'," she remarks.
"No, I don't, but it still doesn't matter."
"It's because when you sneeze, your heart skips a beat." I guess I always thought it had something to do with a soul escaping during the Plague.
"That just means that my heart's rocking out, and my sneezing is just a break in the song, sista!" We give each other high fives. End conversation.
I love my girl, Angie. Always have, and I always will, but she's been saying strange things about praying for me every night before she goes to bed, and talking about me changing my tune just like Darwin before he died. While I appreciate the thought, and the fact that she's thinking about me, I think the analogy between myself and Darwin might be a bit skewed. I know a lot of people that read this think we're just a bunch of big-headed assholes that're only concerned with not sounding interesting and funny. For the most part, that's true. Yet I know that, in the ultimate scheme of things, what I do in life matters very little to a large proportion of the people on this planet. In percentages, I would say that I'd be lucky if something I did affected 0.0000000000001% of the world's population. I'll affect my parents and siblings. I'll affect my closest friends. I'll affect my wife, assuming I get married - same goes for possible children. But everyone else? Screw them. I'll leave them alone.
Darwin, on the other hand, affected a good 80% of the western civilizations' cultures. He brought into question, more than anyone before him, the notion of God and the truth of the Bible with a theory about life. I think this would've scared any man to death, especially Darwin himself. Certainly to the point of re-thinking his previous statements before he died. Think of the pressures on that man after The Origin of Species came out. Think of the religious persecution he must've faced, and the ridicule that must've been slung in his direction day after day.
Harper's Magazine just had something stating that 47% of Americans believe that the theory of evolution "probably" or "definitely" isn't true, yet they still struggle with its affects on a daily basis. Sit a non-believer down in front of the Discovery channel for a documentary about chimpanzees or even early-man, and watch their face. Guarantee they'll flip.
What's the point? I'm no Darwin. You all already knew this. My soul, if I actually had one, is fine. I've said it before, live a good life, and you should have nothing to worry about. Screw Darwin. Screw Jesus. Screw Hewlett-Packard. Just be good.
***1*** high school nickname that still sticks.
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