Absence, Atheism and Michael Jackson

I don't think I have anything to write about today...we are now on the 40th post. Perhaps I should save this epic milestone for something significant to say. Guess maybe I should have saved my essay on love for this one, huh?

But that does not answer the question of what one would fill the void with. What would Blog Excerpt 39 be?

Well, perhaps it should be that life has gone on without me at home. I have been away just over a year now. I suppose being virtually non-contactable for that time is somewhat like being a bit, you know...dead....or something...at first, people rail against the Fates, bemoaning your departure, missing you like crazy, how will we ever cope etc. etc. And, then, slowly, softly, time moves on. People move on. Memories lie abandoned on the beach, and the winds of time swiftly drift in, and sand fills in the gaps. New memories, new jobs, new friends. New lives.

We are all replaceable. Not perhaps, as individuals; but everything we are, when taken apart, can be replaced by someone or something else.

Do you ever wonder, what the odds would be?

Either way, we are all incredibly lucky to be here, don't you think? Think of all the spectacular levels of probability against existence. Every ancestor, every environment, every choice had to be made at just the right time to result in this. In us.

But, ultimately (sigh), it is only Chance. It's quite hard to feel grateful towards abstract statistics that couldn't care less about whether you existed or not. There they sit, quietly in the corner, tallying away, punctiliously tapping away at the numbers, as unemotional and efficient in erasing your life as in creating it. Oblivious to the screams and grime and tears. It's a grimy lot, life is. A grim and grimy lot. Yet, I suppose, we'd rather be with it than without.

I imagine a few of my Christian friends are shaking their heads softly with that sad smile on their faces. Well, good luck, guys. Enjoy. :)

In our living room we have a little booklet called The Introduction to Jehovah's Witnesses for Children. There are some lovely pictures of paradise (apparently we get to live alongside tigers and hippos in perfect harmony and we all dress like we live in the fifties).

Some equally interesting pictures of the Day of Judgment. A lady carries a bleeding girl in her arms. A toddler reaching for her fathers hand as a flood engulfs.

Oh, and by the way, the Going to Hell list includes alcoholics, wife beaters and Mexicans.

A group of Asians were standing on soapboxes (and yes, I do mean literal soapboxes) in the street the other day: 'Jesus loves you, God gave his only son to save you...' does anyone else feel awkward about these people? I'm always like, "Dude, keep it at home, okay? Or rant about it on your blog. Except nobody reads your blog because, you know, quite frankly, it's dull. And we all have access to a copy of it every time we check into Travelodge."

Maybe next time I'll start lecturing them on the finer points of Satanism and see what happens.

Where are all the atheists these days? Atheism needs structure.

//We shall build atheist churches, from which to worship and indoctrinate the young with moral philosophy and logic. Let great statues be built in the likeness of Sartre, Nietzsche and Bertrand Russell. And everyone shall have a 'fish with legs' bumper sticker. Thus it is decreed.//

So sayeth the Book of Lou, chapter 3 verse 10.

I suppose it's a little oxymoronic (or just plain moronic) to refer to them as Atheist Churches. Ah well...I guess 'University' would do just as well.

Additionally, speaking of death, absence and afterlives, permission to grind my gears on Michael Jackson, or MJ, as everyone seems to so affectionately know him by these days. Obviously this is not directed at the genuine fans of Mr Jackson, but Other People, if you loved the guy so much, maybe you shoulda let the world know whilst he was still alive and therefore have used your respect properly, as opposed to driveling on about how simply marvelous his music was and what an iconic singer he is and isn't it such a tragedy he's gone and so on and so forth, just as soon as you would've spit in his face and called him a pedophile when he was alive.

Okay, got that one outta the way.

-considers blog a useful anger management tool-

Over and out.