Dear Atheists, what are you so worried about?

One of the most amusing things in the lead up to this year’s census was the almost paranoid vigour with which some atheists encouraged other non-believers to make sure that they ticked the right box on their form,

“Don’t write Jedi, you won’t be counted.”, “Make sure that you don’t leave the question blank instead of choosing ‘No-religion’”.

Even funnier were the attempts to convince people who still identified with a religious group to select ‘No religion’ instead,

“But you only go to church twice a year”.

There’s a host of great articles about Fred Nile swanning around the internet at the moment. Many of these are witty, erudite, informative and relevant. I felt like I needed to contribute some kind of honking, goose-like piece to balance the spectrum.

THE STARS:

In these confusing times, it’s often helpful to think of government as the cast from the hit Christian television show, 7th Heaven. Fred Nile is already the Father of the House in the House of Representatives and he truly does think he is the patronising, dead-eyed father from 7th Heaven, doling out unwanted advice to his terrified children. But instead of the feel-good plotlines about less-hot daughter trying her darndest to help a rambunctious African-American basketballer find Jesus, we have Father Nile taking Bob Brown to electro-shock therapy and counselling Julia Gillard about her living in sin issues.

As an atheist, one of the most common questions I get asked – apart from “would you please leave?” – is “Why are you an atheist?” And it is a fair question: for the average person, it’s pretty hard to understand why a man would turn his back on tradition, social norms, and all semblance of common decency in order to pursue a life of nihilistic excess and death-worshipping futility. It’s perfectly natural for ordinary, hard-working Australians to assume that I am simply, at heart, an evil person, and let’s be honest, I’m pretty much asking for it. As a non-atheist of my acquaintance pointed out recently, “That Richard Dawkins really irritates me”, and it’s hard to argue in the face of that sort of logic.

However, I always think it’s good to look beneath the surface, and so I do like to take any opportunity I can to really “flesh out” my religious beliefs, so that people don’t make superficial judgments based on simplistic stereotypes, and instead make superficial judgments based on complex stereotypes. So I’m going to answer the question “Why am I an atheist” in a way that will hopefully clarify just as much as it disgusts.

I suppose the seeds of my atheism were sown in my teenage years, when I first realised how enjoyable it is to pointlessly rebel against authority. I remember the giddy thrill I felt when I spat in my father’s eye for no other reason than I was bored. It was exhilarating! I thought, “How can I spit in my father’s eye on a society-wide scale?” Atheism, of course, was the obvious answer. Forget spitting in the eye of my father – how big a rush would it be to spit in the face of The Father? And as I grew up, my need for showy, immature displays of empty oppositionalism has only grown more intense.

The Australian Christian Lobby (ACL), their spokeswoman Wendy Francis and the Rip & Roll campaign for safe sex in the homosexual community gave us a fascinating media blip yesterday. ACL’s actions, in particular, were an eye opener in a number of ways.

Firstly, it demonstrated that ACL, despite their stupidity, can be devilishly clever. They didn’t bother protesting directly to QAHC or Rip & Roll, they went straight to the people whose only skin in the game was financial – Adshel. They knew that any direct complaints to Rip & Roll would have been met with the scoffs they deserved; they knew that protesting to government would take too long and they knew that attempting to create a public backlash would be doomed to failure. Adshel, on the other hand, have to be very careful about being responsible for ads the public find offensive.

Under the guise of Special Religious Instruction (SRI), Access Ministries have a backdoor into our primary schools to spread their evangelical, Old Testament-style Christianity. This is a terrible, terrifying idea and one that makes me question the integrity of the education system in Victoria.

While most of us were struggling to recover from, or still indulging in, the excesses of the stupid season, the NSW Administrative Decisions Tribunal made a ruling that all but flew under the radar. Indeed, if it wasn’t for Joe Hilderbrand’s article on December 27, I probably wouldn’t have noticed at all.

Last month bore witness to what can only kindly be described as a breathtaking example of mass insanity, as politicians from both major parties crossed the divide to hold hands and bestow state sanction on the initiation of Australia into the global cult of ancestor worship.

That’s right, groovers. You heard right. Australia now has its very own saint. T-shirts available in the lobby.

After attending a reasonably funny, thought-provoking and interesting talk called “Laugh your way to a better marriage” I was feeling pretty good. Six hours over two nights away from the kids listening to what was a marriage course dressed up as stand-up comedy.

We’d been invited by friends at the church (no, they didn’t give me shit about being an Atheist) and it had been fun. We chatted in the breaks. Bought the book. As we walked out, feeling a little closer than normal, my wife cocked her eye at me and asked “So are you going to become a Christian?”

You know those people, (usually celebrities), that you’ve never met but still hold in high regard. For my money, Bruce Willis is one. Bruce is the epitome of cool. It seems that he would be as comfortable having a beer in the dingiest of pubs as he would walking the red carpet of a Hollywood blockbuster premiere. I have never seen or read an interview that left me thinking he was a bit of a tool. The way he handled his and Demi’s divorce and her subsequent marriage to Ashton Kutcher left me in awe; safe to say that I had a bit of a man crush.

As published in Crikey:

I like Nick Xenophon, I like him a lot. He’s like the anti-Steve: an independent senator able to keep his head above water as he swims through the senatorial swill.

His attack on the tax free status church of Scientology last night was laudable, and long overdue, but did not go nearly far enough.

This should actually be Village Idiots, rather than the singular form, as I’m going to make reference to a group of people who have proven themselves to be no more than a collective of Village Idiots.

As I’ve mentioned in the past I currently work in hospitality, and it does mean at times I have to take deep breaths and suck it up when confronted by an acutely moronic customer. I wish I could say that these times are rare.

although it’s ok to hate the ones on channel 10, all right thinking persons should do so.

I was listening to one of the last editions of The Religion Report on Radio National the other day on my way to work (see the November Issue for my outraged rant about the axing of this program).

This particular program was discussing the concept of Love Thy Neighbour, which is the summation of Christianity. For those of you who thought Christianity was all about casting homosexuals to the burning hellfire and getting all horrified about fellatio, I refer you to Matthew 22:36 – 40.

Religious persecution has been responsible for some of the greatest slaughters in human history. Somehow, your belief that perhaps the Pope wasn’t in control of your day to day affairs was enough reason for me to round you up with thousands of other heretics and put you to the sword.

If this is a crutch, mine is broken.

Okay, I agree that that picture floating aroud the internet of George Dubya and chimpanzees pulling EXACTLY the same faces IS incredibly persuasive evidence for evolution; however, it's just not quite enough for me.