Can you believe this shit? Part II.

People come up with some pretty outlandish explanations to justify their actions and beliefs. Regardless of how illogical, distasteful, or ridiculous it may be, some jackass will try to sell you their particular brand of horseshit even as the SWAT vans pull up to the curb and helicopters begin to circle overhead.

Take religious people. Believers from various belief systems and denominations will happily insist that they possess incontrovertible, scientific proof of God’s existence. Of course, if you press them for more evidence than “aren’t flowers pretty” and “what are the odds” etc., you should be prepared for all kinds of outrageous rationalisations. Fortunately for you, we here at africans.co.za are logic fascists, and we’ve put together this handy “Fuck You Religious Whackos” guide, which we are giving you access to entirely free of charge.

“It came out of the sky!”

Believers – or as we like to call them around here, “fucktards” – may try to fob off the fundamental questions of existence with this old stand-by: “You can’t see the wind, but you can see its effect, right? Ja, well, God’s like that.” As if that explains anything. What does that even mean? God is hot air which rises, thereby creating a vacuum and pulling in cold air behind it? Why does that mean I’m not allowed to eat pork, or wear clothes of mixed fibres, or covet my neighbour’s ass? I mean, have you seen my neighbour’s ass? I’d tap that! And then I’d fuck it, but that’s just me.

After-Life? Over My Dead Body.

Heaven gets a lot of good publicity that I don’t think is justified. Greeting-card companies, religious organizations, and the rest of the entertainment industry have been exploiting all things heaven-related for so long that the idea fills the populace with warm happy feelings, rather than scaring the bejeezus out of them. Somehow, while we weren’t being vigilant, the world devolved to this appalling state, where images of fat angelic cherubs wielding harps can warm the cockles of the most hardened TV or movie executive’s heart, instead of filling them with bile and revulsion. What gives? How has it come to this?

COME AGAIN?

NEE, JISSIS, SO KAN DIT NIE AANHOU NIE.

by God

Here God nee. Kyk, mense, laat Ek nou dúidelik wees: Ek het fokkol hiermee te doen gehad. As Ek nie nou die dag by Koos Kombuis se blog ingeloer het nie, was Ek nog stééds in die donker oor die aartappelboer en al die kak wat hy in My naam kwyt raak. Maar dankie, Koos! Ek sal jou nog behoorlik moet bedank dat jy My so laat skater het. Terwyl ek onthou: Die mense van die Simply Heavenly Accommodation Committee het gevra dat Ek jou laat weet “your suite has been upgraded” – wat de hel dít ook al beteken.

If You Thought THAT Was Offensive…

Taking a break from pure politics this week (although, as we know, everything is political), I thought I’d tackle one of my favourite hobby-horses, religion, by writing about the latest of God’s self-appointed ministers. You may have read about it in the papers, or on any of the blogs by his fans and detractors, but there’s a new Morality Sheriff in town, and he goes by the name of Buchan. Angus Buchan. Perhaps you’ve heard of him? If not, you can check out this column that Pikes wrote for another site. Words cannot express my excitement when I first saw the photo accompanying the story and I thought: “Great! They’re making a South African Indiana Jones movie!” But then I read the column and realized it was just another reactionary Christian crackpot with a stupid hat and even stupider opinions, wishing to make a name for himself by convincing all and sundry that they’re all going to hell unless they do exactly as he says.

‘We Call Upon the Author(s) to Explain.’

Religion is for cunts. There, I said it. You may wonder why it’s taken me so long to get around to this subject; after all, religion is a relatively easy target, and I’m nothing if not willing to persecute the weak and the slow. Not to mention the fact that the church annually rakes in more money than most African nations will ever see in a generation, and thus much, much more than I earn in my menial job. (Okay, so I may have taken an oblique swipe at religion before, but that was, like, 3 months ago.) Perhaps it’s because for a while there, I had made peace with my loss of faith. Perhaps it had something to do with the realization (via David Hume) that faith is faith, reason is reason, and never the twain shall meet.

Everyone and Their God Is Out to Get You, Motherfucker

Paranoia is a beautiful thing. The bloodcurdling, toe-curling sensation that there is some global conspiracy against you, with government spooks, dentists, or aliens who are familiar with every aspect of your miserable existence and nevertheless wish you harm. The reassuring thought that some all-powerful covert force exists which has used its infinite resources to scrutinize not the actions of governments, or secret societies, or unions, but every trivial detail of your even-more-trivial life, must be a new and life-affirming experience for you. After all, the existence of a secret plot against you would mean that your own self-obsession is justified. It could even excuse your continued existence, for which even your mother hasn’t been able to find a satisfactory rationalization. This misguided belief is especially reassuring when coupled with the notion that the conspirators may have uncovered the solitary fact, hitherto unknown to you or your imaginary friends, that could justify not only your immediate removal from the world but a subsequent effort to conceal it from the public record. Christ, that kind of thing could even convince you that anyone would notice your disappearance in the first place.

“The doctor will see you now…”