The Perks of Atheism

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Reblogged this on Archon’s Den. I thought it was humorous, yet serious, and needed to be said. It constitutes my masterful research, rather than merely lazy plagiarism.

True Falsehoods

A discussion group put together a list of their favorite things about being an atheist. I really liked some of their answers, and wanted to share. Responses range from funny and inappropriate to thoughtful and poignant.

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Havin’ A Ball

Broken Window

A young boy was playing with a ball in the street. He kicked it too hard, and it broke the window of a house and fell inside. A lady came to the window with the ball and shouted at the young boy, so he ran away, but he still wanted his ball back.

A few minutes later he returned and knocked at the door of the house, and when the lady answered it, he said, “My father’s going to come and fix your window very soon.”

After a few more minutes a man came to the door with tools in his hand, so the lady let the boy take his ball away.

When the man finished fixing the window, he said to the lady “That will cost you exactly ten dollars.”

“But aren’t you the father of that young boy?” the woman asked, looking surprised.

“No,” he answered, equally surprised. “Aren’t you his mother?”

***

It is a dark night.
A man is riding a bicycle with no lamp.
He comes to a crossroad.
He stops because he doesn’t know which way to turn.
A tall pole stands near the road with a piece of paper on it.
It is very dark and the paper is too high – he cannot read it.
He takes out his box of matches and climbs up the pole.
There, he lights a match and then reads the following words on the paper:
“Wet paint.”

***

A female asked God that she wanted her all husband’s attention, she wanted that he should only look at her, keep her with him all the time and give her utmost importance in life….God turned that female into a mobile phone.

***

The Impact of a Job Change

One day, a passenger in a cab tapped the cab driver on his shoulder to get his attention.

The cab driver screamed, lost control of the cab, went up on the sidewalk and stopped inches from a shop.

The passenger apologized and said: “I didn’t realize that a little touch would scare you so much.”

The cab driver replied “Sorry it’s not your fault, it’s my first day as a cab driver, I’ve been driving a hearse for the last 20 years.”

***

On their way to get married, a young Catholic couple is involved in a fatal car accident. The couple find themselves sitting outside the Pearly Gates waiting for St. Peter to process them into Heaven. While waiting, they start to wonder: Could they get married in Heaven? When St. Peter shows up, they immediately ask him.

St. Peter replies, “I don’t know. This is the first time anyone has asked. Let me go find out.” He leaves. The couple sat and waited for St. Peter to return, but he never did. 9 weeks later, and the couple were still waiting. They started to wonder, if things didn’t work out, could they get a divorce in heaven?

Another month later, St. Peter finally returns, looking somewhat bedraggled. “Yes,” he informs the couple. “You can get married in Heaven.” “Awesome!” the couple responds enthusiastically. “But we were just wondering, what if things don’t work out? Could we also get a divorce in Heaven?”

St. Peter’s face suddenly turned red with anger. He slammed his clipboard to the ground. Frightened, the couple asked “What’s wrong?” “OH, COME ON!” St. Peter shouted. “It took me three months to find a priest up here! Do you have any idea how long it’ll take me to find a lawyer?”

 

Flash Fiction #104

Liberty

PHOTO PROMPT- Copyright – Jan Wayne Fields

POLITICAL GAMES FOR POLITICAL GAINS

He said
She said
They both lied

Deleted emails
Mexican wall

Polarised positions
Confrontation, not co-operation

Donald hates Muslims
Hillary loves photo-ops

Gunfire in the streets
Politicians in public washrooms

Clinton’s no lady
Trump’s an egomaniac

NRA and oil pipelines
Freedom and fairness
sacrificed to political expedience

Democracy’s dilemma decision
between bad and worse
No ‘leaders’, only selfish pedagogues

No discussion, only entrenched positions
Nobody’s right, when everybody’s wrong

Aching ears from raddled rhetoric
Public apathy – or anger

Drip….drip….drip
Make it stop
Please, make it stop!

~~~~~

Does Lady Liberty look like She’s hitchhiking?? Her tablet reads “Canada – or Bust”  😳

***

You can click on ‘Nobody’s right,’ above, to hear The Buffalo Springfield, from 1967, tell you how nothing really has changed, except maybe got a little worse.

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

 

Faded Fads

Rubik's

Fads seemed to have started in the early 20th century, when improved manufacturing processes finally allowed payment of more than starvation wages, and enough spare time to spend it.

(One of) The first was flagpole sitting. I think it started with one nerd without a girlfriend or a date, who couldn’t sit in his mom’s basement with a Gameboy, because they hadn’t been invented yet.  He nailed a big plank to the top of a municipal flag pole, so that he could sit in a snit.

Actually, the fad was watching flagpole sitters, where entire families would get dressed up, pack a picnic lunch, and stare adoringly for hours at some jerk who raised himself above the rest of the population and did nothing constructive.  I believe the record was 33 days – until Trump came along.

Soon after, the fad among fraternity boys became swallowing live goldfish, usually washed down with copious amounts of bathtub gin. Police suspect that alcohol may have been involved. During the 40s, the only fad was saving the free world from The Axis Powers – and drawing ‘Kilroy was here’.

Kilroy

Fads really came into their own in the 50s, when plastic made things light and cheap. First was the Hula Hoop, a barely disguised anti-obesity and fitness program.  We all know how well that worked.  Then along came the Frisbee.  It was possible to fling garbage can lids a considerable distance, but when Wham-O made them smaller and lighter, the number of broken windows, smashed flower gardens, and homes with brightly-colored, orphaned disks on their roofs, really skyrocketed.

There was the Slinky toy, a coiled spring that was smart enough to walk down a flight of stairs all by itself. It was replaced by contestants on The Bachelor.  We had mood rings.  Mine was always black, and in a bad mood, and I think it rubbed off on me.  Rubik’s Cubes showed us how things were always twisted and turned, and presented a different face.

Etch-A-Sketch came along, and it marked the limits of my technology. I could operate one of them, where I can’t run a Smartphone.  Lava lamps showed up.  I think mine sat on a fault line.  There was an underwater avalanche, and it never rose to the occasion again.

Pet rocks were a thing for a while. Mine got lonely, and ran away from home to join a parking garage.  Here in Canada, we had Ookpiks, an excuse to take the hides off baby seals and ship them to a factory in Calgary, where they were cut up and sewn back together to look like a small owl made by an Eskimo.  Sales peaked at 2 or 3 a week and then slowed down, and the tourist industry had to find new ways to separate gullible American tourists from their money.

Tamagotchis were hot with tween girls for a while. They were supposed to show the amount of time and effort necessary to raise a child, and hopefully reduce teen pregnancies.  After a few of them died of malnutrition, most young females just went back to boyfriends, who were lower maintenance.

Many fads have no staying power, and disappear quickly. I figure that the new electronic game, Pokémon Go won’t last more than a couple of weeks, when players do things like find a dead body, or get kicked out of a Holocaust Museum or a cemetery.

Selfies seems to be a fad which could have been devised by Darwin himself.  Hundreds of self-important fools have removed themselves from the gene pool.  Government agencies have had to put up signs that read effectively, “Not Here, Idiot!” and still many are too spaced-out to notice or heed them.  Tennis elbow and golf elbow have morphed into ‘selfie elbow’, caused by holding up a huge ego cell phone at an awkward angle, to take hundreds of meaningless photos.

Sadly, one fad that doesn’t seem to disappear is, The Kardashians.  We have now come full circle.  Here’s a group that’s lightweight and cheap, made mostly of plastic, and they have raised themselves above the common folk, to be gazed at adoringly for hours, without actually doing anything constructive. 😯

There must be some (lots?) that I’ve missed. What do you remember, that I’ve forgotten?

April A To Z – By way of G

April Challenge

I’ve gone and got to G.  What shall I gab about?   I’ve got it!

Letter G

GUNS, GOD AND GRAVESTONES

Any of you who may feel that all three of the above are connected, haven’t been paying attention to the filing system inside my head.

Colt 1911

I don’t give a shit what the Nervous-Nellie, conservative, reactionary do-gooders claim. Guns don’t kill people! Guns don’t kill people any more than hammers build houses.  People kill people when the wrong people get ahold of guns.  I know of guns that are older than I am, and the only thing they’ve ever done is put holes in pieces of paper.

The wrong people get hold of guns when gutless Gus thinks he hears a burglar, and hides a rifle under the bed, and his 4-year-old ‘pretends’ to shoot the neighbor kid – when an armed Security Guard is too lazy to store his gun in his house, or at least in his car’s trunk, and lets his girlfriend and her 6-year-old use the car, and it slides out from under the front seat – when a lady shopper leaves a loaded, cocked pistol in her purse, next to her child in a shopping cart.

We don’t need ‘Gun Control.’ We need people control! We need  background checks, waiting periods, licensing, gun handling and storage safety training, and – instead of emotional, hand-wringing histrionics – an ongoing campaign like we have for smoking in public, or drunk driving, to get people to think, (Could happen) and take their guns, and their control of them, seriously.

OH GOD

God is!….And all the rest of you are wrong.

In the beginning, God created Man – and immediately, every Man created the God which best suited his selfish needs and mistaken beliefs.

The Muslim God is different from the Jewish God.   The Jewish God is not the same as the Christian God.  The Roman Catholic God is not the same as the God of the Greek Orthodox Church – and neither is the same as the Russian Orthodox God.

The Catholic God differs from the Protestant God, and the God of each of over 42,000 Protestant sects varies widely and wildly from the Catholics’– and from each other. In every case, at least one of them must be wrong.

‘Your God’ is a mean, vicious, vengeful, violent God, who would torture me for eternity for respecting all humans and their rights, even if some of them are gay, whereas ‘my God’ is loving, forgiving and inclusive.

The God of the insecure egotists, ‘sees every sparrow fall,’ but they fail to notice that the Bible doesn’t say anything about Him actually doing anything about it. If a greater being created the universe, It is not the God of the egotists’ dreams. It regards this little ball of rock called Earth like an ant-farm, mildly interesting at times, but not worth interfering with, no matter how much they vainly pray.

None of us have enough brains to know what an infinite ‘God’ thinks and wants, but too many of us also don’t have enough brains to keep our mouth shut, and prove our ignorance.

ENGRAVED IN STONE

I’m not going to get stoned – even though it sometimes looks like I am, when I write.

My maternal grandparents lie side-by-side in a double plot, in the old section of my home-town cemetery. Someone in the family must have had some money.  A four-foot high white marble obelisk sits on a sandstone plinth at their heads, with all biographical data professionally and artistically carved in.

Ever the prepared planner, my Mother arranged and paid for all funeral details long before she and Dad died. They (which may mean she) opted for cremation.  They purchased a single plot, and had their urns buried at each of the top corners.  There’s room for four more urns – two on the sides, and two at the bottom.

In the new cemetery section, the rule is that all gravestones must be flush with the earth, for ease of groundskeeping. They put two small sandstone slabs (about 8” square) over the urns, with only their names, and the word ‘husband’ or ‘wife’, no dates of birth or death.

Not exactly welcoming the inevitable, but like Mom, knowing that it should be planned for, I recently had a conversation with my younger brother. Since there’s room at Mom and Dad’s plot, did he plan to be cremated and buried with them?

No more religious than I am, he surprised me with a vehement refusal. No cremation for him!  He plans to be buried the old-fashioned way – embalming, body in a coffin, coffin in the ground.  He’s going to buy a single plot, and have a stone about a quarter of the surface area laid over him.

Like my Mother, I am not a believer in physical resurrection. I also want to be cremated.  The whole process, from beginning to end (actually, from my ending, to the delivery of the urn by Amazon drone) is about $2000/$2500.

I see no reason to rob my heirs of what little I can leave them, by purchasing a plot of land I don’t need, and a chunk of stone that, eventually, no-one will visit. I will be given, probably to my daughter, as a bagful of bonemeal fertilizer that she can sprinkle in her garden, and I will be resurrected as a rosebush, or a lilac tree. (Although, with my luck, I’ll come back as crabgrass.)  That’s the true ‘Circle of Life!’

Flash Fiction #103

Lamb

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

INSOMNIA CURE

Late again, Johnson??!!  You’ve been warned.  You’d better have a good reason, or you’ll be collecting severance papers from HR.

Well, Sir, you know I live outside the city. I even left early this morning, but old man Morton was herding his sheep from one pasture to another, and I had to pull over so I didn’t hit any.

His flock seems to have grown, and I wondered how much, so I started counting them, 287, 288, 289, 290…. I was dreaming of a Simmons mattress – and suddenly it was 9:15.

True story or not, that one lets you stay.  😆

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

 

Flash Fiction #102

Lamb

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

BE A LAMB

I can hardly wait to try that new restaurant, Shear Heaven, the one that specializes in lamb. I love lamb, lamb chops, lamb cutlets, lamb stew.  I’m confused though; why would the country’s greatest vegan chef open a lamb restaurant?

It’s called aversion therapy.

What??!

Have you ever been to a seafood restaurant where they let you pick your own lobster? It’s the same here.  If you can look at little Bambi….

Bambi was a deer.

Fine! If you can look at little Baa-baa, and still say, “I want that leg of lamb….??”  Everybody ends up ordering curried chick peas.

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.