A renowned philosopher, Jason7463, once wrote the immortal words:

Thats the problem with atheistism,its so damned depressing.Basically says,your fucked so get used to it.

As is so frequently the case with deeper thinkers of this stamp, the wording, punctuation and homophone-swappage is fully sic. Still, let’s transcend that barrier, and look deeply into the void that is “atheistism as seen by Jason7463″.

Firstly there is “atheistism” to consider. I am grateful to Jason7463 for the peculiar wording he has employed in his exposition, as it serves to throw a common error into stark highlight. A person may be an atheist, but to consider atheism as an “-ism” in its own right is to overlook the derivation of the word. A- (meaning “not”) -theism (meaning “believing in a god or gods”) is not a belief, but the rejection of one. To imply that a belief must fill that void is to fall into error. This is usually illustrated by showing that baldness is not a hair colour, and that not collecting stamps is not, in and of itself, a hobby.

Now, is this “absence of belief in a god or gods” as damned depressing as Jason7463 claims? From personal experience and testimonial evidence available, I must say that the opposite applies in the majority of cases. This seems especially true when the subject has experienced belief.

Relieved from the stress of trying to reframe my entire existence to ensure its relative popularity with the invisible distributor of vengeance, largesse and misfortune, and all the forgive me this, show me the way that, and fitting the bigger picture against prophecy… not to mention the sizable cognitive dissonance between “Jesus said” and “Church does”, I am actually beginning to enjoy life.

Of course, we can safely dispense with the “damned” bit…

Basically says,your fucked… I don’t think so. If anything, now that I don’t rely on intangible (and let’s face it, non-manifest) means of support, I tend to plan all details of a project with the most pessimistic outcomes in mind. (The optimum and most likely are also considered: it’s a project management thing.)

The result is a tendency to be more mindful of circumstances and interdependencies: in short, to be careful. I may eventually wind up “fucked”, but entropy guarantees that for everyone.

…so get used to it. The fatalism implicit in such a statement is more indicative of the “let go and let god” type of person. Any situation has options: acceptance, avoidance, negotiation, or even aggression.

I’m alive for now. This is all the life I get, and I’ll play the ball as it lies, go to the clubhouse, or picnic on the fairway if I deem it suitable. I don’t have eternity to waste on harp lessons.
Life is mostly okay, and there’s plenty undone yet. “Used to it”? Only a person who missed a lot of interesting stuff could say that.

Seriously, I don’t know what the younger generation of christians are being taught.

If you are looking for accommodation, I hear hell is quite nice this time of year, and has a lot of room set aside for you. - “Jesus FTW”, who endured the lengthy rigmarole of getting an AFA login, just to tell us that.

Does it make him happy? Is that a Jesus-like attitude? He’s only the most recent of a container-load of wallies with the same “message”, although the focus generally seems to be on the writer’s own glee at our impending damnation and torment.

Still, I’m glad, in a totally Pollyanna-like way. Why, you may ask…

The joy that these sick-puppy types get at the idea of me and Gee Suss reclining in a jacuzzi of molten lava, or whatever their twisty little minds can conjure up, is free.

It costs nothing from us fantasy victims (although I must confess I feel a bit squicky at the idea they may get excited enough to give themselves Special Rubs), and it hopefully sublimates those nasty urges, so they don’t need to go attacking church youth, pulling the wings off puppies, or whatever.

We should be charging for the therapy.

Driver hissy-fits may be annoying, but they pale into insignificance beside the real threat of Christ-addled drivers – disassociation.

Even discounting the unlikely event that Your Friendly Driver Is …Keith… will suddenly evaporate, or rise ethereally through the roof of the bus, or however they choose to do it (I understand the church is in consultation with George Lucas’s effects people), my major concern is…

misguided nonchalance.

A sticker advising me that my driver’s mind is mostly in heaven while he’s on the job? Not good for my confidence, thanks. I want a driver whose apprehension of death or injury matches or exceeds my own, not some guy marking time till his sky-fairy says, “Grab your things, I’ve come to take you home.”

And don’t get me started on planes.

That Sully bloke who put the jet down on the Hudson River: I’ll have a down-to-earth guy like him in case of emergency, not somebody content to lead his fellow-plummeters in a prayer over the cabin intercom.

Dear drivers and pilots, if my life is in your hands, I would prefer to live it here. For a long time, if possible. Your assistance is appreciated.

Oh, you don’t need to prove there’s a god, it goes. Just hedge your bets.  If you follow my simple gambling system, says Pascal, you cannot lose…

1. Believe there’s no god and die believing there’s no god. If there’s no god, End of story – No Gain, No Loss.
2. Believe there’s a god and die believing there’s a god. If there’s no god, End of story – No Gain, No Loss.
3. Believe there’s no god and die believing there’s no god. If there’s a god, Endless Pain and Nasty People With Pitchforks. Never mind that they’re not in the bible.
4. Believe there’s a god and die believing there’s a god. If there’s a god, Jackpot, grab a harp and get ready for a forever of being good.

Now, like many a racing system, there is a bit of flawed thinking going on. Like the tout who has you mentally counting your winnings, the whole shebang concentrates on Happy Endings.

Please forgive me for wandering, but this reminds me of the olden days.

There was an old trick that got tried time and again at my boarding school: new boys would be told not to stoke up on sausages, because this dinnertime there would be as much ice-cream, jelly and custard as the lads could eat, due to some mysterious malfunction in the kitchen freezers.

Of course, the greedy little blighters would often eat one sausage, or none, out of their three. The older lads would say, “Oh well, if you don’t want those…” and wolf down the discarded snags.

Guess what? Dessert was a small serving of Indescribable Hard Slice in a small pool of watery custard, as always.

And we were speaking of sweets, weren’t we? Well, what about this for a revised “wager” – Pascal’s All-Day Sucker:

1. Believe there’s no god, live life like it’s all there is, and die believing there’s no god. If there’s no god, End of story – Life lived, No Loss.
2. Believe there’s a god and die believing there’s a god. If there’s no god, and you’ve been holding back on living (a big “Hi!” to all our celibate clergy) and spent your entire life praying, tithing and annoying people about your religion, it’s still end of story – No Gain, and a complete loss of a life.

If the absence of other possibilities annoys you, perhaps I could interest you in this wonderful scheme where I bless all your money overnight in my Secret Holy Place. Results are guaranteed!