I had an interesting conversation the other day about religion and the nature of society's "moral compass," and it left me thinking about my own beliefs. And you know what?
And why not? I mean, the thing gave me the ability to feel this way, so why not? Just look around! It's all pain. Everywhere. Maybe you get an occasional glimmer of hope, disguised as a kiss from your wife or a cookie or a good book, but they're only glimmers. Fleeting feelings of joy in a festering cesspool of despair.
Fuck God. He's worthless. And He doesn't care.
And as for the argument that not believing in a higher power equals not having ethics or standards which one can hold oneself to, I say shut the fuck up. I am filled to the tippy-top of my head with ethics. Are you? Probably not. I have noticed in my brief time upon this blue sphere of death and loneliness that most people leaning on religion would collapse without it.
That's not good. You know why? Because God doesn't give a flying angel's fuck about you. I know you think He does, but He most certainly does not. So fuck Him!
And Michael Jackson had inappropriate relationships with little boys, OK? I'm not saying he fucked 'em. But he admitted that he shared his bed with them, and that is unquestionably inappropriate. So enough with the faux sorrow. I'm sure he's in a better place.
On second thought ...