The Blasphemy Challenge: Dumb, but Endearing

The Blasphemy Challenge is, in essence, a sophomoric stunt, that has no more rationality to it than any other attention-grabbing ploy of the Internet Age.

However, it’s astounding how threatened the goddies feel. By targeting, to a certain extent, the world’s computer-savvy youth, the Rational Response Squad has gotten the priestly caste and their minions screaming holy hell. In a January 30 “Nightline” segment of its “Faith Matters”—get it?—series, the news program interviewed the Squad’s Brian “Sapient” and Kelly NoLastName, who presented themselves as martyrs for the godless. They revealed that they’ve received death e-threats and other faith-inducing messages. They were even menaced on camera by Paul de Vries, a divinity scholar (an oxymoron, if there ever was one), and president of the evangelical New York Divinity School, who wondered if they were not setting themselves up for “eternal trouble.” Sounds like a great name for an atheist rock band.

John Berman, the idiot who interviewed Brian and Kelly, asked no penetrating questions, and deservedly received no better than glib answers. Unfortunately, the quality of the give-and-take made the whole project look like nothing other than high-tech collegiate antics, only slightly more sophisticated than the toga party in “Animal House.” Still, in a brief summary of the piece, Cynthia McFadden, the host of “Nightline,” did mention that 9% of Americans openly identify themselves as atheists. She made no estimate of the numbers who are closeted unbelievers, but, as we all suspect, there must be plenty of them out there. Perhaps even someone associated with—gasp!—“Nightline.”

Last night, I spent about two hours watching YouTube videos of people denying god, and, while I still think the challenge seems like a fraternity prank, I did find myself chuckling in irreligious glee at the inventiveness of the “damned.” People sang, danced, created cartoons, and did little comedy routines while denouncing the ridiculous. In the course of my YouTubing, I stumbled across two satiric Netcoms, “God, Inc.” and "Mr. Deity,” both of which also brought joy to my non-soul.

In the unholy spirit of fun, I feel I must take part in the RRS’s endeavor. Although my world views are evolved far out of the stone age, my computer, alas, is not. So since I have access neither to video nor audio equipment, I’m limited to this blog in which to state:

I DENY THE EXISTENCE OF ALL GODS AND SUPERNATURAL BEINGS AND, OF COURSE, THE HOLY SPIRIT.

But you knew that about me already, didn't you?

Happy Birthday, Sanity

Monday is the 34^th anniversary of the Roe v. Wade decision, in which a Texas law banning abortions was found unconstitutional by the Supreme Court.

Opponents of choice have always had to argue that the fetus is a person. You may find it instructive and/or fun to read the transcript of the original argument of the case, which took place on December 13, 1971. You can read even more discussion of the fetus’s personhood in the transcript of the reargument, which occurred on October 11, 1972. (The reargument was scheduled to allow Justices Rehnquist and Powell to hear what the lawyers had to say; it's clear that most of the other justices had already made up their minds.) If you have time, you might enjoy listening to Texas’s nonsensical claims by clicking the appropriate audio button on the Oyez web site.

Whether or not the fetus is a “person” could not then, and still cannot now, be considered a scientific question. It is a lexico-theological issue, over which hovers the religious concept of “soul.” In the first argument, lawyer Jay Floyd, appearing for Texas Assistant Attorney General Wade, slipped in that very word near the end of his allotted time. To their discredit, none of the justices challenged him.

In the second argument, Robert C. Flowers replaced Floyd. Early on, Flowers said “... it is the position of the state of Texas that, upon conception, we have a human being; a person within the concept of the Constitution of the United States, and that of Texas, also.”

Justice Potter Stewart jumped on this statement: “Now how should that question be decided? Is it a legal question? A constitutional question? A medical question? A philosophical question? Or a religious question? Or what is it?”

Flowers waffled by placing that decision on the shoulders of first, “the legislature,” and, ultimately, the Court. The justices let Stewart’s pointed query die a-borning. He raised it again later, but Flowers continued to pass the buck. The Court cravenly ignored the religious implications; there was not even a pregnant pause. No one on the bench pointed out that none of the framers was a fetus.

If you don’t believe in a soul, you’ll have trouble accepting the personhood of a bundle of microscopic goo. Yes, it contains human cells, the building blocks of a person. But a Lego set isn’t the Taj Mahal.

A toenail clipping, a stray hair, an invisible droplet of saliva—all of these contain human DNA. Are they persons? Not to anyone who’s sane.

Soldiers, on the other hand, are clearly persons. But again, only to those who are sane.

Unfortunately, sanity may no longer be a desideratum, as it was when Roe v. Wade was correctly decided. Today, a son of Texas, having attained high office, has honed irrationality to an art. He opposes the aborting of cell clusters, as his state’s governmental forebears did, but asks the American public to extol the aborting of young people in uniform.

If Justice Stewart were still alive, he might wonder: "Now how should that question be decided? Is it a philosophical question? Or a religious question? Or what is it?”

I've Just Seen a Face

On January 1, I spotted the head of a triceratops in a cloud. Immediately, of course, I called my local news media to alert them to the fact that dinosaurs had not really gone extinct.

Unfortunately, the press had no time for my story because they were all drooling over another fantastic sighting. It seems that Jesus’s face was seen on the bark of a tree—the specific kind was apparently not important enough to be mentioned—in the Arlington section of Jacksonville, Florida.

While my dinosaur attracted absolutely no attention, TV camera crews and reporters flocked into Daryl Brown’s yard to catch a glimpse of the Christ. Pictures of the holy plant presence were posted on the “News4Jax” and “Local6” web sites, so viewers could decide for themselves if they agreed with Brown: "Jesus don't just pop up like that. If you know the word of Jesus and you believe in Jesus, then there you go. He does exist." An unnamed neighbor was a bit more circumspect: “I can’t say what I feel, I just feel it.”

According to the story (which was earth-shaking enough to be repeated in a number of non-Jacksonville markets, like mine), a dog-walker was the first to spot the sacred timber. She said she’s comforted knowing that the Messiah is watching over her as she strolls with her pet through the neighborhood. The news report did not mention what, if any, images she sees in her pooch’s poop.

People who spy the paraclete’s puss in a tree – or a tortilla (1978 in Lake Arthur, New Mexico), rock (2005 in Hallettsville, Texas and 2006 in Long Island, New York), paint splotch on a wall (2005 in Detroit, Michigan), dental x-ray (2004 in Phoenix, Arizona), or Pizza Hut billboard (1991 in Atlanta, Georgia) – are experiencing pareidolia. Pareidolia is the illusory perception of a recognizable pattern in a random, vague stimulus. In other words, it’s the vision of god peeking out from the trunk of a tree.

A medical name for this phenomenon, coined in 1958 by Klaus Conrad, an internationally renowned neuropsychologist and psychopatholigist, is apophenia. According to Wikipedia, Conrad called apophenia "unmotivated seeing of connections" accompanied by a "specific experience of an abnormal meaningfulness." Interestingly, Conrad’s original description of apophenia applied to the kinds of distortions of reality experienced by psychotics. The word is now used more often to describe the mirages of so-called normal persons, like those of us who see prehistoric animals in clouds or genitalia in seashells.

Usually, we enjoy our sessions of apophenia alone, or perhaps share them with a loved one: “Honey, this is amazing. My wine spill looks like Mickey Mouse.” It’s only when some religious kook sees Jesus or Mary in the spaghetti sauce that the vision becomes newsworthy. Whereas no one but a nut would believe for a second that the world’s most famous rodent had appeared magically in the merlot to deliver a message of hope, allegedly sane people do become stubbornly convinced that god has embossed his picture on their belongings to show how much he loves them.

It’s nice to begin the new year with a story about religious silliness that didn’t hurt anybody, except perhaps for the birds and squirrels who will be shooed away from the savior’s woody mug. But the truly delusional Jesus-tree-huggers are not going to evanesce the way my sky-dwelling dinosaur did. We must remember that the nation’s deranged god-worshipers are constantly experiencing apophenia, seeing and hearing imaginary dangers to their nonexistent deity. They deal with their hallucinations by trying to influence our kids’ education, our neighbors’ sexual behavior, the progress of science, and the direction of our government.

Johnny Jesusseed is coming soon to a yard near you.

But I've Never Seen Mommy Kissing Jesus

The Christians have hijacked Christmas.

Many atheists, I among them, would argue that Krissmuhs is the most secular of holidays, a celebration of human excesses. In the primeval parts of our brains, we are pleased once again that the sun has decided not to disappear; it’s definitely rebounding, if ever so slowly, from the solstice. Not being a god any more, our very own star, rising in the east, does not—and cannot—give a goddamn about what we eat, drink, smoke, say, or do during our week-long hedonistic extravaganza.

Up until recently, I had no trouble wishing friends and acquaintances a Merry Krissmuhs or a Happy Holiday. I used the phrases interchangeably, occasionally throwing in a Chanukah greeting to keep things kosher with those who are practicing Jews. Now, however, some Christians, mostly clerks in stores, feel compelled to correct me when I say “Happy Holiday,” carefully enunciating their “Merry Christmas” in a school-marmish tone, as if reprimanding a child. How dare I forget that it’s their fairy godfather’s birthday.

Still, I continue to think that Yule is cool—although I’m becoming increasingly uncomfortable about Santa Claus. Clearly, he’s a watered down, albeit bulked up, substitute for god. Belief in him is practice for a lifetime of unreason. Get your kids swallowing unquestioningly the existence of a magical being, and faith in a supernatural meddler will smoothly follow.

The similarities are everywhere, and segueing from one to another is child’s play. Santa gives lovely presents; god gives his loving presence (which, as any youngster or heathen can tell you, is clearly no substitute for something you can actually see, touch, and play with). Santa has elves for helpers; god has angels and evangelicals. If Santa gets pissed off at you, he leaves coal in your stocking; if god gets pissed off at you, he sends you to hell for eternity—not anywhere near as awful a tragedy as not getting the toy you wanted.

Obviously, both guys have beards, although Santa’s is better groomed. They are similarly fixated on baked goods: Santa likes to eat cookies when he visits you; Jesus likes to convert bread into pieces of his body and have you eat them when you visit him. Each one cares inordinately about whether a person has been good or bad. For Santa, good and bad are fairly easy to define. God, on the other hand (the one that does not have the whole world in it), is a little more arbitrary. For instance, it might, in some circumstances, be a righteous act to pull your little sister’s hair or talk back to your teacher. The children of Israel, soldiers of Christ, and disciples of Allah have been free—even urged—to commit far worse atrocities in god’s name and for his dishonorable honor. Whether you’re naughty or nice depends upon the criteria set forth by the particular witch doctor you’ve chosen, who passes along the judgmental word from on high.

To be fair to Santa, though, he actually seems to enjoy his job; god’s not having any fun at all. Santa would dig into a Krissmuhs feast with raucous good cheer; Jesus, his homemade wine notwithstanding, would be a drag to have as a holiday guest. Santa asks no quid pro quo for his gifts; god insists that you worship him or you get zip. And most importantly, Santa would never dream of giving you his sleigh with which to commit mischief, while god has no compunction whatsoever about offering his believers airplanes and missiles to perpetrate whatever evils they desire.

Which of these characters is more likely to represent peace on Earth and goodwill toward men? With Santa in mind, despite my reservations about him, I wish my readers a Merry Krissmuhs. To the adults who have chosen the far more unpleasant myth, I say: Get your hands off my happy holiday.

Where Is H.L. Mencken When We Need Him?

Mojoey over at Deep Thoughts has created an Atheist Blogroll, listing over 100 sites of interest to us nonbelievers. I’m proud and pleased to be included.

I don’t disply his whole list here, however, because I don’t find every one of those blogs interesting. I’m particularly bored by two kinds of subject matter:

The Same Scientific Arguments for Evolution
Those of us who are gonna get it, already get it. There’s no point in repeating the same facts, over and over, ad nauseam, as if some fundamentalist from the blogosphere is going to stumble across one of our pages, smack him- or herself in the head, and say, “Oh, now I see!”

Most of us atheists have grabbed the mantle of science and wrapped ourselves in it. But, let’s face it: it’s not necessary to be an expert in biology, geology, paleontology, zoology, or any other kind of –ology to be reasonably certain that nature’s ways do not need the overlay of a higher power. Most of us are just not qualified to rattle off scientific evidence to academic poseurs. While I, for instance, love and admire books like The Selfish Gene and Darwin’s Dangerous Idea—to name just two of dozens I’ve read on the subject—and like to think that I’m fairly well-versed in neo-Darwinian studies, I’m not convinced that I’ve digested all the complex data to the point where I can speak persuasively on a theoretical level, a la Dawkins or Dennett. Nor am I interested in doing so. Why would I be, when they’ve already done the job so eloquently themselves? If a creationist hasn’t had an “aha” moment by now, I’m not likely to be the one who’ll open his or her non-created eyes. And, pssst. Neither are you.

Because really, it’s almost 150 years since the publication of The Origin of Species. I don’t think it’s necessary to follow every single argument presented by the scientific community since then to accept the overwhelming evidence against Genesis, just as I don’t believe one needs to have studied meteorology to suspect that Zeus has nothing to do with thunderbolts. Although I’ve long forgotten Newton’s formulas and have only a dim understanding of Einstein’s improvements to them, I still know that if I trip at the top of a flight of stairs, I will wind up, somehow, at the bottom—and that the cause of my fall will be the attraction of gravity, not sin. But don’t ask me to prove this with well-articulated theory; my intelligence was not designed that way. That’s why I’m happy to leave the fine points of science to the scientists, particularly those rare few who write wittily and well.

This is not to say that we shouldn’t be vigilant in selecting our school boards and other educational leaders. We must fight the theocrats whenever necessary. But we don’t have to keep re-enacting the Scopes trial amongst ourselves, do we?

Philosophical Disputations with Believers
Give it up! It’s a waste of time! The Christian Nation is not reading your Letters to them with any intent to ponder your ideas. They know the Truth; it’s printed in their bibles and whatever-elses they use to spread the god meme from generation to generation. Most of us wouldn’t consider spending even five minutes explaining why we feel that “The Tale of Peter Rabbit” isn’t true. Yet, many of us atheists love nothing better than to score illusory intellectual points against the moronarchists.

But faith always trumps facts, because it’s shown to its best advantage when the facts contradict it. So while we may find it great fun to yammer on about the ontological, cosmological, teleological, and other arguments for the existence of god, and to try to blow them up in the believers’ smug faces—really, whom are we kidding? Most religious folk do not have a love of, or even a casual affection for, wisdom. They wouldn’t recognize a philosophical argument if it bit them in the metaphysical ass.

We all know (or we should) that our blogs are, for the most part, read by one another. Let’s try to entertain and enlighten ourselves, to call for political or legal action when it’s necessary, and to share the hilarious and/or frightening idiocy that greets us every day. Let’s not fool ourselves into thinking that we can hawk our wares in the so-called free marketplace of ideas, when we’ve really just found ourselves stuck in the medieval bazaar of ignorance.

Brainwashed in the Blood of the Lamb

The Friendly Atheist has improved a chart from Newhouse News Service, showing the religious affiliations of the members of Congress. The list includes Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, and Unaffiliateds, but it’s mostly made up—as you probably guessed—of followers separating themselves into umpteen Christian sects. I’ll wait here while you look over the FA's great work.

The question is: what criteria have our elected representatives used to choose their particular religious paths? The answer in most cases, I suspect, is the accident of birth.

But Richard Dawkins, the current darling of atheists, delights in pointing out that there’s clearly no such thing as a Christian child, or a Jewish child, or a Muslim child, etc.. Children are not competent to profess belief in a worldview that favors any particular system of religiosity. Hence, there are only children of Christian parents, Jewish parents, Muslim parents, and parents indoctrinating their offspring into any of the other myriad superstitions now plaguing the Earth.

In other words, chances are good that most of our congresspriests learned what their religious affiliations were well before they had the intellectual wherewithal—and, let’s face it, many of them will never have it—to think about their chosen beliefs. They were brainwashed, conditioned to salivate at the mere mention of certain magic words like “Jesus,” “Adonai,” or “Allah;” as adults, they continue to drool. Unfortunately, their slobber permeates the pages of the country’s law books.

It might be instructive—or at least fun—if someone could get our politicians to take a few minutes off from their pious dribbling to answer the following brief questionnaire:
1. What would you say is the central “message” that defines your specific religious sect?
2. Would you articulate two or three differences between your selected religion and some of the others listed on the chart?
3. What advantages do you think your colleagues reap by practicing their religions instead of yours?
4. Still, why do you think your religion is the best?
5. If you don’t think it’s the best, why don’t you convert?
6. If you don’t think it would make any difference whether you converted or not, why do you bother to list a religious affiliation at all?
7. Where do you find evidence in the Constitution that the government should prefer your particular sect to any of the others, or to none?

That last question is a ringer: it can’t be answered by any words other than “nowhere.”

My proposal: Only those elected officials who could respond spontaneously and publicly to the questionnaire, without prompting or preparation, should ever be allowed to mention religion, directly or circuitously, in Congress again.

The result would be far from perfect, but it might get some of the holy mouth-water off those law pages.

Person of the Year

The atheist limelight has been grabbed this year by Richard Dawkins and Sam Harris, and, to a slightly lesser extent, by Julia Sweeney. Clearly, there's no denying that these champions of rationality are all worthy of our secular adoration.

But as far as I’m concerned, the person who has done the most in 2006 to wake people up to the sins of the theocrats is a New York Times business reporter named Diana B. Henriques. Whether or not she’s an atheist herself is immaterial, although, god doesn’t know, I wish she were. In fact, her short bio on The Times’s Web site specifically references her lengthy religious history, stating that “throughout her life, she has been an active member of various Protestant congregations, serving for several years as an elder at a suburban Presbyterian church and currently serving as the senior warden at an urban Episcopal church in New Jersey.” The blurb makes her sound like she’s a sects addict, for heaven's sake. Since New York Times staff bios do not generally refer to a journalist’s church-going record, obviously this information is included about Henriques so that readers will not be able to dismiss her reportage as the work of some heathen crank.

Henriques’s crusade against holy thievery began with a five-part series, “In God’s Name,” that ran from October 8th through 11th, with its final entry on the 20th. These articles, as The Times says, “examine how American religious organizations benefit from an increasingly accommodating government.” The reporter has now coauthored another feature that appears in today's paper. After six such efforts, she might look over her accomplishments and rest contentedly, as a lazy deity would. But I’m prophesying that there’s more to come; perhaps a good book is in the works.

The titles of Henriques’s articles ought to be enough to get us heathen cranks weeping and gnashing our teeth:
* Religion Trumps Regulation as Legal Exemptions Grow
* Where Faith Abides, Employees Have Few Rights
* As Religious Programs Expand, Disputes Rise Over Tax Breaks
* Religion-Based Tax Breaks: Housing to Paychecks to Books
* Ministry’s Medical Program Is Not Regulated
* Religion for Captive Audience, with Taxpayers Footing the Bill
She’s not writing only about the recent faith-bait initiatives here. Some of the laws she cites have been on the books for more than a decade. The promulgators of superstition have been riding the gravy train for a long time, and the conductors have come from both major parties.

Here’s a link to the Dec. 10 article. The first five installments are also just a click away. There are some nifty graphics you ought to check out, as well.

The Times, unlike most of Henriques’s subjects, is not a tax-free charity; it doesn’t keep its stories online for free very long. If you’re interested, you’d better read or download these gems quickly.

Oh, So That's What They Mean by a "Yule Log"

Fundies have gotten their edible panties in a twist over a new product called “pornaments.”

You can easily picture what these decorations are: humping snowpeople, gingerbread folks with anatomically correct parts, randy reindeer in a state of arousal, teddy bear masters and slaves. We’re not talking about great wit here, just some sex-crazed seasonal characters, good for a laugh if you’re tired of “Scrooged.”

I found out about these items on an alarmist news broadcast tonight. It seems that the religious community is up in arms over the defilement of Christmas. In the most grave voice imaginable, the anchor told us that these foul things were allegedly for sale at Spencer’s Gifts in the local malls. In case we couldn’t conjure up our own visions of these sugar plums, pictures of the products were flashed on the screen, albeit with the private parts tastefully blurred. The message was spelled out: area children are in grave danger. Ginger-penises and snow-vaginas are lying in wait for our kids on merchants’ shelves.

Now, anyone who has ever walked into a Spencer’s knows that toddlers are not its targeted clientele. There are all kinds of sexual and scatological silliness for sale, the type of stuff that gives the giggles to eighth-graders. The store’s most sophisticated offerings are machines that make fart-sounds.

In the past, if I remember correctly, Spencer’s got lots of triple X-mas mileage out of nutcrackers—get it?—and various printed jokes about elves’ endowments. Pornaments seemed to be a natural, and I’m kicking myself for not having thought of them myself.

Of course, I had to rush to my computer to see these little horny devils for myself. Lo and behold, however, Spencer’s has yanked them from its web site: “There are no products matching your search.” In other words, there’s no more room at the bin.

Perhaps the pornaments are temporarily sold out. Far more likely, though, is that Spencer’s has been unduly pressured by the easily-offended American Christian taliban, who brook no competition from commercial establishments in spreading seasonal unpleasantness. Rev. Jim Patterson of the Hillcrest Baptist Church in Jacksonville, Florida said, “It is just sad they have to stoop to this kind of thing to defame Christmas. It says we are nothing more than sexual acts or physical beings and we are much more than that. We are spiritual beings and this is a spiritual holiday. And, why bring it to that level. It makes no sense to me.” Is this guy kidding? He’s talking about flying reindeer and talking snowmen here, with plastic appendages. It's not as if anyone has stuck a tumescent schlong on his precious Jesus. Even so, from the pulpits of the nation you can imagine others like him raising their voices in damnation as they single out the poor little gift shop: “Get thee behind me, Santa!”

Of course, once these holiest of Christmas personages are saved from disgrace — pace, Rudolph and Frosty— the righteous voices of America will surely allow Spencer’s to return to purveying its usual wholesome holiday fare. And then the ministers of god can get back to doing what's really spiritually important: making sure that every public park and plaza is defiled by a creche scene.

Hein v. Freedom From Religion Foundation: Sue the Bastards (or Maybe Not)

Way back in 1968, the Supreme Court was asked to decide whether taxpayers had standing to sue the government for throwing their money around in unconstitutional ways.

The case, Flast v. Cohen, was brought by a woman who objected to federal financing of textbooks for parochial schools. Apparently, the schools in question had been dipping into the government’s collection plate rather than their own. Even though those particular textbooks were on secular, rather than religious, subjects, Flast believed that the expenditure still violated the First Amendment.

The Court’s opinion was authored by Chief Justice Earl Warren, a secular saint if there ever was one. He wrote that a taxpayer could, indeed, prevail in a lawsuit—but only if two conditions were met.

First of all, the suit had to establish a logical link between the taxpayer him- or herself, as a taxpayer, and a legislative act that the taxpayer believed was unconstitutional. For all intents and purposes this link could be established only if the act in question fell specifically under Congress’s power to tax and spend, as stated in Article 1, Section 8 of the Constitution. In other words, a person could sue about the expenditure of his or her tax dollars only if it could be shown that Congress had earmarked those taxes for an explicit use.

Secondly, the taxpayer could claim that the act was unconstitutional only by demonstrating that the funding in question exceeded specific constitutional limitations on Congress’s power to tax and spend.

In Flast, the Court found that both conditions were met. The taxpayer was able to establish a link between herself and the legislative act by showing that the allocation of her money fell under Congress’s power to provide for the “General Welfare.” The expenditures exceeded Congress’s power to tax and spend because the bestowal of public monies on religious institutions flouted the First Amendment’s Establishment Clause. Flast, and all other taxpayers like her, had suffered harm; she had been ripped off by god's representatives posing as her own.

As time passed and the Court grew more and more conservative, the taxpayers’ right to sue became narrower and narrower. In 1981, for example, another Establishment Clause case was brought, this time by Americans United for Separation of Church and State. It seems that the Department of Defense, as part of a series of cutbacks, had closed a military hospital in Valley Forge. The Department of Health, Education, and Welfare decided—in an act of Christian charity, no doubt—to donate part of the land to the Valley Forge Christian College. This pilferage of public property improved neither the common citizens' health, nor their education, nor their welfare. The Court found, however, that since Congress was not directly involved in the land transfer, the public had no right to sue. Basically, the government was free to steal from us as long as the theft was not spelled out by an act of Congress.

Fast-forward to last Friday. The Supreme Court announced that it will decide whether citizens can challenge the spending of tax money by Bush’s office of faith-based initiatives. The case, Hein v. Freedom From Religion Foundation, et al., will be heard in February.

Of course, I would love the FFRF to succeed. Bush and his theocratic cronies are distributing our hard-earned bucks to the supernatural charlatans. That’s clearly a violation of the First Amendment. There’s no separation of church and state when their hands are joined in picking our pockets.

But I predict that the good guys will be losers in this effort; we don’t have a prayer. The money was not allocated directly by Congress to the White House’s Faith-Bait effort. Rather, the President was given a gift of our cash to use at his discretion—or lack of same. I doubt that a conservative Court will decide that the FFRF has standing to speak for you, me, and all the rest of the people who feel cheated by our nation’s churches. Most likely, the inactivist majority of judges will shrug their robed shoulders, while the pirates of religion continue to thank their bandit god for Republican appointments.

Signs from God

Evangelicals who whine about being marginalized in America have not taken a road trip lately. Drivers on the nation’s highways are smothered in a steady cloud of religious exhaust. Sitting behind the wheel, you can choke on the toxic fumes from all the Christian gas.

As you travel through the South, from Florida to Kentucky, you learn one important fact. Billboards, road signs, and bumper stickers tell you again and again that “Jesus is Lord.” Considering the impeccable sources, the statement must be true. My favorite version is the one painted on the outfield fence of a baseball field in a roadside sandlot that abuts I-4, not far from Orlando. I’ve passed this site dozens of times, at all hours, and have yet to see a single kid playing there. Jesus lords it over emptiness.

Other billboards sport alarmist verses from the bible. A faux U-turn sign tells motorists that Christ urges them to “change direction,” even though traversing the median on the highway is illegal. One gigantic message warns—ungrammatically—that the wages of sin is death. (Someone other than Jesus must be Lord of English Usage.)

In case the continuous print barrage doesn’t nail you, crosses of all sizes practically smack you in the face from the edges of the interstate. The crucifixes are user-ready in case Jesus-is-Lord decides to come back and get hammered up again. He has a number of appetizing sites to choose from nestled amongst the Fireworks! and Boiled Peanuts! signs. My guess is that he’d favor the huge metallic eyesore that casts its shadow about 100 feet onto Tennessee’s porn-again landmark, XXX Adultworld XXX.

Another symbol of Jesus-is-Lordness is the ubiquitous fish. All kinds of variants propel themselves along the backsides of cars and trucks. On some of these finned friends, the word “Jesus” leads you to the truth—just in case you mistakenly think that the vehicle’s owner works in the tuna business instead of angling for soul. On others, a cross is planted like a sloppy kiss on the swimmer’s cheek, so that the fish seems to be looking forward from the point where the horizontal bar meets the vertical beam; the creature is cross-eyed.

Interestingly, the people who cart around the portable marine life often festoon their autos with ribbons that urge other drivers to “Support Our Troops.” Apparently, Jesus-is-Lord does not offer sufficient assistance to our men and women in uniform. While evangelicals believe wholeheartedly in him, he apparently does not believe in them—or at least in their war effort.

And that’s something they should be whining about.