Rapture Here, Rapture There

He changed his mind.  He likes May 21, 2011 better.

Alright, Moonbats, I know every blogger in the cyber world is writing about the rapture this week.  Ordinarily, I would avoid going along with the crowd; but every now and then I make an exception.  This one is too juicy to not pick (on).

Some fundamentalist loon goon got a bright idea and put himself in charge of a pack of fundamentalist loon goons with IQs lower that his and called this pack of stupidness We Can Know.  Apparently, the whole key to knowing when Jebus is coming for his sheeple is found in some of Paul's natterings.  There's that "no man knoweth" business, but according to the We Can Know geniuses, man means someone who doesn't believe, but believers aren't man.  They are spiritual beings, and thus they can know.  Or something like that.  Reading that bullshit gave me a headache and it didn't make a lick of sense.  The gist of it is that the loon goons have it in their heads that they KNOW Jebus is coming on May 21, 2011. 

I don't believe any rapture is going to happen, primarily because I don't believe in skydaddy, junior, or the righteous spook.  If junior wasn't here in the first place, he can't come back.  However, I'm going to entertain the idea that the skydaddy, et al. are out there and about to swoop.  What will a post-rapture world be like?  I guess the first thing that we non-believers will do is make some sort of statement expressing shock and dismay.  I'll probably say something to the effects of "Well, smack my ass and call me Judy.  The fuckers DO exist."  I might have a momentary second thought about the whole "fuck the righteous spook" thing, being as it would be proven that the righteous spook exists and doesn't forgive being told get fucked.  That will only be momentary, because even if it's proven that the trinity exists, I don't like them.  They're hateful, bloodthirsty, warmongering, egomaniacal, narcissistic asses and I don't want anything to do with them.  I'm pretty sure I'm not the only atheist out there who feels this way.  I'm also pretty sure I'm not the only atheist out there who will be glad to be rid of the fundies.  Let the looting begin!  I've got dibs on the baptist church down the road from me.  It's not a mega-church, but it will fit my purpose.  It has three buildings, a fishing pond, a volleyball court, acreage, woods, and plenty of room.  One of the buildings has a partial basement, and one of the buildings has a gym.  Not only would this be the perfect spot to relocate and set up homesteading, it would be perfect to convert into an animal shelter.  Directly across the road is the office building for a baptist association of something or another.  It's not part of the church, but it's right across the road from it, and just a trot thru the woods from my house.  It's a nice, big building and would be a good house for some member of my atheist family. 

I can't help but believe that we won't experience all of the chaos that the bible says will happen next.  Those of us who will still be here tend to be the rational sort.  We'll have some fun looting their shit, but we'll be civilized about it.  After all, how many flat screen TVs do you really need?  I'm curious what our goverment will look like.  I would hope with the fundies and proseltyzing panderers gone, we would have the best, brightest and most level-headed in top positions.  The one drawback is that if a rapture happens, that means skydaddy exists, and our best and brightest might lose their damn minds and go off the skydaddy deep end.  That would suck, and it would create the chaos that would lead to the tribulation the fundies get giddy about.  Leave it to skydaddy to fuck up a wet dream - ours, not his.  He touches himself at the thought that our intellectuals could turn stupid.  I'm still not going to worry about it because I'll be living the good life in my church converted to a house, taking care of rescued critters, fishing, growing veggies and not putting up with fundies.  Ah, paradise. 

Back to reality.  There is no skydaddy.  There is no impending rapture.  Come May 22, these fundies are going to be babbling every excuse in the book as to why jebus didn't come get them.  For as much as I'd like to see Billygoat Graham finally kick the bucket, I'm going to be real pissed if he does it on May 21.  Someone will proclaim the rapture came and only Billygoat was taken up. 

The Best Laid Plans of Moonbats and Men

But Mouse, you are not alone,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often askew,
And leaves us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!

                                                                  from To A Mouse by Robert Burns

This past Thursday - May 5 - was the fundies' National Day of Prayer.  It was also Cinco de Mayo.  Just as everyone's Irish on St. Patrick's day and it's an excuse to drink green beer, everyone's Mexican on Cinco de Mayo and it's an excuse to drink muy bueno Margaritas.  Ah, good times, but they are another blog, especially since I didn't get my muy bueno Margarita. 

For those who are unfamiliar with National Day of Prayer, once a year, on the first Thursday in May, the POTUS declares that we fine, upstanding American citizens are to pray.  This lovely bit of legislation, codified as 36 U.S.C. 119, wipes its ass with the Establishment Clause.     That nifty little series of numbers I just threw at you are National Day of Prayer's Federal statute number.  Being a Federal statute, it made it through both houses of Congress, landed on the President's desk, and was signed into law.  Here it is, in all of its blazing glory:

TITLE 36 > Subtitle I > Part A > CHAPTER 1 > § 119

§ 119. National Day of Prayer

The President shall issue each year a proclamation designating the first Thursday in May as a National Day of Prayer on which the people of the United States may turn to God in prayer and meditation at churches, in groups, and as individuals.
**************************************************************************

The 7th Circuit Court of Appeals missed the point recently in overturning the trial court's finding that this is unconstitutional.  You can read about it here.  The point is not that imposes a duty only upon the President.  The point is that Congress enacted a law respecting religion. 

My good atheists use this as National Day of Reason.  Many atheist organizations sponsor activities such as food drives for local hunger relief organizations and homeless shelters, and many sponsor blood drives.  National Day of Reason coincides with the local bar association's Law Week.  I don't know if there's a closet atheist lurking around somewhere, or if it's just a coincidence, but the Bar's blood drive is always on National Day of Reason.  Being a member of the legal profession (paralegal), I take advantage of the Bar's blood drive to give a nice pint of my type A+ atheist blood.  I get to take off work to do this since it's an official Bar function, which is a nifty bonus.  It's always at the Courthouse rotunda.  This year, the boss was going to take me to give my pint of blood while he made an appearance at another part of the Courthouse for some ceremonial something or another.  Here's where the plans go astray.  I won't bore you with my health issues, but I have a fainting disorder.  It causes me to lose consciousness for no apparent reason.  Neither I nor my doctor know all of the causes, but we do know a few things that set it off.  Dehydration / volume depletion is high up on the list.  I know that giving blood causes volume depletion and can cause fainting, so I always load up on Gatorade the day before and day of giving blood.  I had stopped on the way home from work and got my load of neon green goodness so that I could be the answer to some fundy's prayers without causing myself problems in the process.  I go through a glass and working on the next one, sitting at the dinner table, when the husband asks if I'm alright.  No, I'm not.  I've turned ghost white, I'm sweating like a construction worker in late July, and the room is going counter-clockwise.  He gets me to the floor before I go completely out; but giving blood is out of the question this go-round.  I'm pissed.  Really, royally pissed.  I look forward to giving my pint of atheist blood every year.  I always envision some fundy family praying fervently to skydaddy to save their loved one, when, da-da-da-daaaa-da-da, here comes a pint of atheist blood to the rescue.  Yeah, I know they're going to give skydaddy all the credit.  They're not even going to consider that someone put herself at risk of a fainting spell, and oh, I bruise easily, too.  I spend a couple of weeks after giving blood looking like a needle junky gone wild.  I'm not complaining, and I'm not looking for glory.  I do like to make people aware of how priceless a gift a pint of blood is, though.  For the brief physical discomfort I have, someone has a fighting chance at life. 

I just love the irony of it all.  I also wonder how many fundies who have had a loved one whose life was saved by donated blood are also blood donors.  I wonder what they would say if they knew Grandma was getting atheist blood.  I wonder if the phrase "fuck skydaddy and fuck the righteous spook, too" ever crosses the mind of anyone who got a pint of my blood or any of the products possibly made from my atheist blood, such as plasma or packed red cells. 

I'm still so disappointed that I didn't get to give on National Day of Reason.  I'm back to normal, now, and will probably give this weekend.  To the person who gets the blood, it doesn't matter what day I gave.  It only matters that I gave, and I know I should also look at it that way.  I will give on National Day of Reason next year.  I will start loading up with fluid and potassium several days in advance.  And those are the best laid plans of moonbats and men.