Did you hear about the dyslexic agnostic?
He couldn't read Richard Dawkins' excellent book, "the God Delusion" and therefore understand the truth. Poor fellow!
( giant_squid, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 19:33, Reply)

There are no gods
Only an awful lot of rather sorry and useless looking wolves
(Halfy By light alone, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 19:32, Reply)

GCSE blasphemy
I was 15 years old in 1990, at a school that had Religous Education as a compulsory subject for GCSE. I had realised long ago that I did not buy into the whole 'God thing', and felt that spending my time in lessons about how great God is wasn't what I wanted.

I was sat in the mock exam for GCSE RE and really couldn't be bothered. One of the questions asked us to give recount a quote that Jesus had said whilst nailed to the cross. I hadn't done any revision so used my initiative. My answer was simple - "OUCH"

The dude had just had iron spikes put through his hand, something that i guess must have smarted a tad!

Anyway, once the exam had been marked I was told to attend the head masters office with the head of RE, an ancient old god botherer who didn't see the humour. I was suspended from school for 3 days. Luckily my parents found it hilarious and I came back to school a legend.
( herd of chickens First part only £1.99 and comes with a free, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 19:31, 1 reply)

I heard the voice of god
listening to Kap Bambino and The Golden Filter, also came a little.
(seshmarls, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 19:24, Reply)

Floggin the log
When I was a bit younger I worked away from home for a few months, staying with an elderly an very christian relative (went to church every week, church meetings, bible study, the whole shebang). This in itself was not a problem, although I am an atheist I managed to keep a lid on it and not laugh too hard at stupid notions of some magical being creating an entire planet and all upon it.

The trouble was this, there was no lock on my room, I am a man, I spent all week in work and most nights sleeping or trying to catch up with friends over the net, how was I supposed to crack one off?
The solution came to me (heh), church was the answer!

So early sunday mornings while my auntie was in church praying and whatnot, I was at home sinning like it was the end of the world.
(Lovefist233 Bothering Sheep since..., Fri 20 Mar 2009, 19:23, Reply)

Afterlife
I wish I could take credit for this, but it's not mine. I came across this idea in a book several years ago and it's one of the most subtle and brilliant ideas of a way for the universe to work...

A perfect heavenly afterlife for a specific set of people. Everyone else goes into oblivion. No hell, they just stop existing.

But here's the catch. Only the atheists go to heaven. So if you have a fundie christian (let's call him Ray for the sake of example) who tells everyone about God, Jesus and the afterlife...

"Poor Raymond! Too bad he's not with us, gloating and telling us 'I told you so!'. He sure did tell us so Why, if he hadn't, he would be here with us now!"

Bonus kittens for anyone else who knows where this came from :)
(calamarain just invented dehydrated water, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 19:12, Reply)

Yes, we have heard the one about the dyslexic agnostic...
We've heard it at least twice on every page so far.
(gordonjcp, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 19:06, Reply)

How Jesus came back to life
I was sent to a strict Methodist primary school from the age of four. This wasn't as a result of my parents being religious and wanting me to attend a church school, it just happened to be one of the best schools in the area. Being at church chool for 18 years however, had the effect of making me a very firm atheist.

About this time of year some 18 or 19 years ago we were having a morning assembly taken by Mr Spence, who looked somewhere between a librarian and a monk. We were told the story of how Jesus came back to life having been crucified, buried in a tomb for three days.

When Mr Spence asked if anyone knew what this was called a sea of juvenile hands were raised. 'Pick me, pick me!' My internal dialouge screamed 'I know the answer'.

Mr Spence scanned the hall looking for a likely candidate, 'Anthropos', he said 'can you tell us all what this story is called?'

My chest was bursting with exitement, my little brain so pleased with itself, I KNEW the answer. 'The erection of Jesus!' I shouted gleefully waiting for the praise to be heaped upon me.

None came.

Mr Spence flicked an annoyed eye at me 'no, it the resurrection of Jesus' he said with a twinge of concern and annoyance in his voice. All of the teachers at the sides of the chapel were chewing their lips to stifle laughter. My parents were called in as Mr Spence was worried I was a 'deviant' and he so kindly put it.

I think I turned out alright in the end!
( Anthropos Was making beer on, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 18:08, 1 reply)

Did you hear the one about
The dyslexic agnostic insomniac?

He lay awake at night wondering if there was a Dog.
( ogwen69 has returned from Reddit, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 17:57, 2 replies)

Seeing someone's post...
about saying 'barmen' instead of 'amen' reminds me of a kid I used to know.

He was *convinced* until way beyone he was old enough to know better that they prayer in morning assembly went...

"Our Father, who's Martin Evans..."

Who the hell Mr. Evans is, I never found out.
(mellotron never could get the hang of Thursdays, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 17:44, 4 replies)

But I Don't Have A God!
So I'm gonna mither on and on about how this QOTW excludes me....
(Jimmy Savlon, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 17:36, 1 reply)

If there is a hell, I am going!
Twenty some years ago I was a graduate student living in an old farm house in the country in Appalachia (think hillbillies, moonshine, Appalachian Mountains, and religious folk dancing with rattlesnakes to show that faith in God keeps them safe). During this time I had a very large dog. He was half Rhodesian-Ridgeback and half Collie-Lab. He was huge and also had longer hair than a pure Ridgeback and his ridge looked like a big Mohawk haircut. Even though he looked ferocious, he was very nice with his mother’s personality and never barked at people.

When I say he didn’t bark at people, that isn’t strictly true. He had an unerring ability to know when the religious freaks were coming and would start barking even before the car or van full of crazy people trying to convert me would be visible. When they would stop, he would stand by the car and bark like crazy until they left. Then he would get a treat.

For a while there was also a very pretty married woman living with me (long story which in itself would probably send me to hell if it existed). It was very hot there in the summer and she liked to wear just a small bikini, the likes of which were not seen in this part of the country.

One hot day, we were outside working in my garden and the dog started barking like crazy. Oh shit I said to my friend, the crazies are coming. When a van full of these people pulled into my driveway, instead of just ignoring them, she wanted to listen to them never experiencing such a think in her native Austria. I went over to the van and grabbed the dog telling the people not to get out because I couldn’t trust him. They started talking to me about religion and I told them I was a geologist and believed in evolution which got them going. My friend then came up in her TINY bikini (and somewhat high heels) and draped herself on my arm. The eyes of everyone in the van immediately grew as big as grapefruits with the men probably becoming hornier than ever before in their lives and the women wanting to kill regardless of what Jesus said.

I was getting sick of them and asked them to leave. They then asked “Doesn’t your WIFE want to hear the truth of Jesus”. I said: I don’t know SHE isn’t MY wife. They gasped, glared at me, and immediately left. For the next year and a half I lived there while finishing my degrees, not one religious nut ever bothered me again. She got a good treat soon after they left!

I did find a black X on my door one day though (just kidding about the X but the rest of the story is completely true).
(MichaelS wasn't picked again, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 17:33, Reply)

hmm,
ok, so I don’t believe in God. I’m an atheist. I believe in Science.

I believe the things we see - i.e. ghosts are either unexplained science or imagination going wild.

But for some reason I believe/scared that there may be a devil.

i.e. the exorcism of Emily Rose has me shittin me pants for weeks.

How can i believe in one without the other?
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 17:25, 3 replies)

Ditched
I got ditched this lunch, left all alone by my friends so that they could go to Christian Union.

Sigh.
(Applebite Uh! A cow!, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 17:20, Reply)

Elderly Lynch Mob
Several people wanted to exorcise me after this.

And when word got back to my girlfriend's parents I had to do some explaining pretty sharpish.

Not my fault. Not at all. I blame the deaf fuckers that went to the church.

I was helping out in the local church, St David’s, in Penarth over Christmas. My girlfriend’s parents are fully paid up members of the God Squad, and I really felt I owed them something. I mean, I am fucking their daughter. The least I could do was show a bit of enthusiasm for non-daughters'-cunt-related activities.

So, I offered to help sort out some of the decorating prior to Midnight Mass. I'm down at the church armed with a staple gun, stapling the fuck out of a length of gorgeous red satin, attaching it to the back of the pews. Generally tarting the place up ahead of the big event later that evening.

Now, I've never really liked raising my voice in a church. Not that I feel particularly awed by the places, no. Not that at all. I have a very real fear that the old buildings are going to fall down and crush me if I set off some kind of incredible audible chain reaction with the mighty power of my gob.

So I’m almost whispering to my girlfriend, Liz, who’s down at the other end of the church:

“ Don’t you just love satin ,” and I do. It’s nice and soft, softer than a lady’s arse soft.

“What?” Liz asks, looking a bit annoyed as I’ve disturbed her from her fussing over some Catholic-related twattery.

“ Don’t you just love satin ,” I whisper again.

“What, Spanky?”

By this time I’m a little pissed off. I mean, I was only making a little small talk.

And just at this moment a load of creaky old duffers do a zombie-stagger into the church to help sort out teas and generally stand round and fill the place with the reek of stale piss.

Yep, you guessed it… I shout

“ DON’T YOU JUST LOVE SATIN! ”

And I hear a flurry of Hail Mary’s behind me.

The old fuckers...



...should sort out their hearing aids...
( SpankyHanky, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 17:14, Reply)

Psycho Religious Woman
What is it about religion attracting class A psychos?

Anyway, when i were a nipper (probably 6 or 7), there was this yearly thing that used to happen each summer. It was called "The Castle of Adventure". 'That sounds cool' you think, as you would as a 6/7 year old. However, it wasn't a castle, and there was no adventure. It was a large big top tent with various activities run by some christian-flavoured religious fundamentalists. They'd draw you in with the organised group games, and then trap you while they preached to you and made you sing hymns.
The parents loved it. They got rid of their little terrors for a few hours every weekend and the clincher - they ran minibuses that would come round and pick the kids up.
So, i was in said minibus on the way home from some barely-disguised religious indoctrination, when the rear doors of the bus flew open as it was driving (it was a transit-style van with benches along the sides). A couple of us, including myself, almost fell out of the back, under the following traffic.
"Oh my god!" i exclaimed as the religious nutter woman who was tasked with keeping us under control managed to wrestle the doors closed again.
With face like thunder, she turned to 6 year old me, as my heart thumped from having narowly escaped death or lifelong disfigurement, and grasped me by my shoulders, shaking me roughly.
"Do not take the lord's name in vain!" she spat.

Quite incredible - where do they find these people?
( 100% Cock Raw like carrots., Fri 20 Mar 2009, 17:09, Reply)

Crom, I have never prayed to you before.
I have no tongue for it. No one, not even you will remember, if we were good men, or bad. Why we fought, or how we died. No, all that matters is, that two stood against many. That's what's important. Valour pleases you Crom, so grant me one request, grant me revenge! And if you do not listen, then the hell with you!
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 17:07, 1 reply)

Musings and collection japery
Ummmm.... minor funny: I once heard of a plot in a church where collection was taken on a large brass plate about the size of a dustbin lid. It was calculated that if everyone gave even a small amount, but gave it entirely in coppers, then the combined weight would flatten the verger before he even made it halfway back to the altar. I'm not sure if it was ever pulled off, but it sounds well worth a try.

I have real trouble with the idea of god. Every rational part of me says that there is no such thing, but the fluffier aspects of my personality are sometimes just so dazzled by the wonder of anything actually existing that it does feel like there is something behind it all. Sometimes it just feels like it would be nice to have someone to thank. However, it's pretty obvious that what we feel to be true and what is actually true are nothing like each other in many cases.

Perhaps this warm fuzzy feeling comes from the fact that I feel very lucky to have the life that I have, and that I generally feel very loved. People who can maintain their faith in the face of the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune strike me as, by turns, admirable and offensively stupid. I think that the unpleasant nature of reality for many people and the various stories of divine persecution in many texts is what most turns me off the idea of faith. It seems clear to me that if god does exist as described he is a petty, spiteful, whimsical, violent, grudge-bearing tyrant who does things that we wouldn't forgive in our dearest friends. If you can accept this and still worship god simply on the grounds that he is great (as in mighty) then fair enough, but as many people have said, any god that created this reality and does half the things described in religious texts isn't worth worshipping. The fact that we imperfect beings are allegedly dumped into this reality and adjured to be as perfect as possible is so utterly incomprehensible as to be contemptible. As it was neatly put "We are created sick and commanded to be well." Bah!

(Edited to put (not particularly) funnies first)
(flimflam_machine, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 17:02, Reply)

A Calling.....
For a few months during 2007 (when I lost my mind and all that jazz), I thought that I had a calling to become a Vicar. It was an idea that tempted me as I thought that I would be a good vicar insofar as I am nice and a good public speaker.

It was only when I realised that it was "Captain Morgan" speaking to me and not god, that I would not really be a good vicar due to not being religious.

Meh, the things we do when we are constantly pissed and sobriety is an illusion.
( The_Commander_of_Skips wears his sunglasses at night, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 16:52, Reply)

tip for christians!
listen carefully!
imagine you're in a relationship.your partner loves you unconditionally,and says so every day.(s)he's loving,and caring,and gives you advice,gives you plenty of what you want,promises to protect you and keep you safe no matter what.however,(s)he's quite strict regarding an old set of rules.if you break even one of them,only once,you will be chained up in the basement and forced to undergo the most excruciating torture for the rest of your life.
there's a word for people like that : psychopaths.
this is what i explain to people when they try to convert me.
fuck your god.
(Fuckpig "That's not even a pound a midget.", Fri 20 Mar 2009, 16:44, 2 replies)

On my way to work
I got called into work on an emergency. It was looking like it was going to be a bad day since on the way in I knocked over a cyclist in my car.

I couldn't stop to help because more lives were in danger and I could see he was fine as he shook his fists at me in my rear view mirror.

I quickly parked my car and rushed in, suddenly mobbed by all these religious types, giving me little leaflets, flowers and various blessing.

I couldn't get through! These people we're stopping me from getting to the tower and putting more people in danger. I just lost it..

In a sudden burst of fury I had punched one guy in the chest, kicked another to the ground flip kicked another before despatching the rest and giving a quick karate chop to the last guy.

I knew I shouldn't have worn two sets of sunglasses to the airport.
(ldwater otherwise known as a 'jive turkey', Fri 20 Mar 2009, 16:28, 5 replies)

Dinosaurs and the Ark
I used to work for a firm owned by two born again Christians who had a positive discrimination policy. For every godless heathen they employed they took on a workshy bastard member of their church.

As we worked as couriers we used to start early in the morning and finish late in the evening but we had three or four hours around lunch between finishing our deliveries and starting our collections. Luckily for me, my house was on the edge of my patch so I could go home at lunchtime. The christian in the adjoining patch lived too far away to go home so I suggested he stop by my house where my wife would make us both lunch. In the nine months that he ate my food I learned a few things:

It didn't matter that I freely gave him food and shelter and that he was a tightfisted utter bastard who would rip you off as soon as look at you, come the Judgement I was fucked and he was saved. Actions didn't count, believing did.

The best thing he ever told me was why there were dinosaurs in the fossil record:
"Before the flood the bible says that the waters were held above the earth. This obviously means that God made the sea float over everyone's head. One of the properties of water is that it cuts out ultra violet rays and everyone know that ultra violet rays are what age you. Now lizards continue to grow throughout their lives and with no UV to age them they got really big. Come the flood all but two of each were wiped out and after the flood the water was no longer up there acting as a giant filter so the lizards that came off the ark aged and died before they could get as big as there were in the antediluvian days."

I admired him for his tortured logic. All that reasoning when logic had led me to believe that the World wasn't created in six days and things had evolved.
(bald old git was bemused and befuddled on, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 16:18, 2 replies)

Changing hymn words
My mums still got the home made video of me singing 'oh jesus is a gay' to the popular Christian song 'oh jesus is the one' - i was disgruntled at being a sheep in the nativity play!
(ali_bongo, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 16:15, Reply)

I talk to God...
...frequently, on the great white telephone.

(bindun?)
(RVD420 has his world coming down on, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 16:06, Reply)

If
we're all Gods children that means I'm fucking my sister.
(zebby wasting irony here on, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 15:55, 5 replies)

my friend worships kitchen utensils.
He's a pantheist.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 15:52, 1 reply)

The nun visit
I went to a Cathoic primary school (notice how many stories seem to involve Catholisism?). Each year, the nuns would visit, rattle their tins and we'd give them 20p. Sometimes they'd talk to us.

Like the queen, they'd always ask what we wanted to do when we grew up. Knowing this, the teachers would ask to think of something before the nuns came around. We were also told "if you can't think of anything, just say what you mummy or daddy does"

And so we did.

When the nuns came around when we were about 6, they rattled their tins, took our 20 pences and pinched a few cheeks. The then asked "scummy" Samantha what she wanted to be when she was big.

Samantha panicked and said what her mummy did: "A prostitue sister"

"What?" said the nun.

Samantha went red and siad "Sister, I said a prostitute, sister"

"Say that again, louder" says the bride of Christ.

Samantha steels herself and says in a loud, clear voice "A prostitute, sister!"

The nuns says "Oh, thank christ for that! For a minute then, I thought you said a protestant!"


Badabum. Tish.
(ScousersPet, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 15:44, Reply)

I think I may have given the sunday school teacher a breakdown...
...by encouraging the whole class to make pretend cigarettes out of bible pages and smoke them.

Oopsie.

I do feel slightly bad about that.

It's their own fault really; it was horrendously obvious I didn't have a Christian bone in my body and something had to give when they kept forcing it all on me.

Not had much to do with religion since then, but for some reason, whenever I'm in a church, I come across all guilty and ashamed. Baddun.

Apologies for length and shiteness.
(Beacon, Fri 20 Mar 2009, 15:33, Reply)

Here's an interesting one for you.
A few years ago I went to visit my parents in Myrtle Beach, SC for Thanksgiving. It was my year without the kids (meaning that they were with their mother that year), so I went alone and got to spend some good one-on-one time with my parents.

My parents have a condo in one of the high rises that line the beach, and their daily ritual is to walk a mile and a half down the beach and back. I joined them, of course, and we had a very nice stroll.

As we walked along the high rises abruptly stopped, and there was a long expanse of open land to my left. I've been coming down there ever since I was a young teen, and remembered this area from then. I frowned at it as we walked. "Mom? Why has this land never been developed?"

Mom looked at where we were passing and made a vague gesture. "It belongs to some meditation center. They're some religious organization, so they don't have to pay taxes on it."

Now I was intrigued. "So how do you get in there?"

Dad pointed. "See that sign next to that trash barrel? Now see that path going between the dunes?"

"Interesting... so what do you know about it?"

Dad shrugged. "Nothing at all, really. Just that it's been there for a very long time."

This was like flashing a burger at Rosie O'Donnell. My focus was fixed. So I waited until night, put on a black jacket and some new jeans, then went for a walk. I sneered at the No Trespassing sign as I went between the dunes, the path dimly lit by the reflected light on the clouds over Myrtle Beach. I walked back through dimly lit woods past a couple of small lakes, about a half mile of a vague sand road under twisted oak trees festooned with vines and Spanish moss. I got near an intersection and saw a few old looking buildings a distance off, but the place looked utterly deserted. I decided that I had had enough for one evening and went back.

Now my appetite was really whetted, and I was determined to be a bit more assertive about this. I returned at around mid-morning and strolled in as though I owned the property. As I did to women in their late forties or early fifties emerged from the path, dressed in clothing far too nice for beachwear- flowing silk scarves over tailored wool coats, looking like they belonged in NYC rather than here. I smiled to them and nodded as I passed by, and retraced my walk from the previous night. I boldly walked along, passing by people who gave me a curious glance but said nothing.

The buildings all had natural wood siding and hip roofs, with lots of screened porches. The people tended to be well dressed as they went about whatever they were doing, walking the paths through the rather dense woods. What the fuck had I stumbled into here?

I walked back out again as it was getting close to lunch time, and as I emerged the same two well-dressed women were entering. I smiled as they approached. "Excuse me, but... what is this place?"

Their faces lit up. "It's the Meher Center," one lady replied. "It's a retreat for the followers of Meher Baba."

I looked blankly at her. "Who?"

They were delighted to spend about ten minutes telling me all about him, and I was even more curious than ever. "So you get to stay here?"

"Sure! Go to the Gatehouse and they'll tell you whatever you want to know. They've got all kinds of brochures and stuff there."

"Cool. So how do I get to the Gatehouse?"

"Get on Route 17 North and hang a right at Hooters." And we all cracked up.

Since then I've read about him and bought some of his books, and find him to be fascinating. Con man? Moonbat? Avatar? No way to tell, but whatever he was, he had a serious impact in India and around the globe. I've stayed at the Center a few times now- it's very cheap to stay there, very quiet, they forbid any sort of proselytizing, and I find it to be one of the most tranquil places I know. The people I meet there are typically very well educated, affluent, frequently artists, and invariably very pleasant. It's been a couple of years since I last stayed there, but I think that sometime in a month or two I need to go for a long weekend. I'm due.

So, thanks to an odd old fellow and my own insatiable curiosity, I now have a wonderful place to go decompress. Say whatever you like about how terrible religion is- in that one spot it has established a very peaceful and open place that welcomes everyone who needs to retreat for a while. And that, friends, is more valuable than anything.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 20 Mar 2009, 15:29, 10 replies)