ON THE AVENUES: Godlessness in defense of heathens, infidels, idolaters, atheists, non-theists, irreligious people, agnostics, skeptics, heretics and apostates.

Until someone proves me wrong, I’m operating under the assumption that I am New Albany’s most famous atheist.

Thank you; thank you very much. As absolutely nothing is my witness, this content will remain free and I’ll not be asking you for money.

I've never been shy about it.

I try to be who I am, all of the time, publicly and privately. In part, this is to offer explicit support and solidarity with those who feel they cannot openly embrace their absence of religious belief. In my case, this absence has been lifelong. Once I was in grade school, the concept of "god" stopped making sense to me.

However, being an atheist should not matter, and it does not matter -- except, of course, when it does, as yesterday when the forever culpable News and Buffoon emitted this tweet.

Nothing identifies this link as "opinion," which it most certainly is, as emitting from the prolific evangelical pen of Tom May, who is published so often at this propaganda portal that he surely must possess compromising photos of the publisher reading a book other than the bible.

This and other recent social media utterances serve to remind me that there are occasions during the course of my always eventful existence in Nawbany when otherwise inexplicable behavior on the part of others can be explained only by their disapproval of my atheistic proclivities.

I might go into greater detail, but it’s unnecessary. I'm fairly certain that opportunities have gone by the wayside owing to these instances of disapproval. But also know that no sleep has been lost over them; I'm a contrarian, and a combative and defiant sort. Of course, maybe atheism has nothing to do with it, and they merely dislike the way I roll.

A slim chance, although a chance nonetheless.

All I can do is shrug. Consider today's words to be philosophical musings, nothing more. It wouldn't be the first time that honesty raised hackles or inspired push-back.

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Following is a letter I wrote to the underachieving Jeffersonville newspaper in 2017.

Subtle bigotry against atheists is still discrimination

Figures vary, but nine of ten Americans might believe in God. At least that’s what they say when asked. Many of these believers are Christian.

If another recent study is accurate, 69% of view a belief in God as necessary to be a genuine American.

This is highly disconcerting. Throughout history, atheists have been subject to criticism, persecution and at times overt eradication at the hands of believers of all faiths.

At the very least, atheists often experience a more subtle form of bigotry. For instance, a survey showed more than 30% of respondents preferring atheists be banned from the teaching profession.

Insecurity, intolerance and outright humbuggery always have been regrettable components of human society, and while majoritarian disapproval of atheism isn’t (yet) comparable to racism, sexism and other forms of institutionalized violence, it represents a form of discrimination characterized by ignorance, and one deserving of periodic counterpoint.

The News and Tribune sees fit to publish not one, but two Christian advocacy columns on a weekly basis. When I made my dismay known in a social media comment, I was told by a reporter that this makes perfect sense because many readers are Christians.

Interestingly, research published in the archive of the Society for the Improvement of Psychological Science suggests that more Americans (and newspaper readers) are atheists than may seem apparent, perhaps as many as 25 – 30%.

That’s because the stigma of atheism, as perpetuated by believers, causes many atheists to pretend they’re pious.

How very sad, indeed.

Some particularly virulent true believers don’t like heretics even when they’re properly cooked – and indeed, we unbelievers have been fire-roasted oft times throughout history. It’s mighty totalitarian in nature, this stubborn unwillingness on the part of so many “godly” people to compromise on questions that have tended to result in them directing violence against others in the name of their own unknowable deity.

Then again, I’m just one of those contrarian communistic freethinking threats to human decency … and damned proud of it.

Certainly I’m not the first person to place a tattered bookmark in my cherished copy of Christopher Hitchens' God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything, make an espresso, and proceed to the computer to search for images of Francisco Goya’s "Los Caprichos" series of 18th-century etchings.

That’s because in Chapter 14, Hitchens specifically refers to Plate 43 of Goya’s series. It is called "The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters," and shows a "man in defenseless slumber … hag-ridden by bats, owls and other haunters of the darkness."

The author’s actual point in citing this effective visual aid is to take a view contrary the etching’s originally intended symbolic properties, namely, to offer that human reason always is the subject of fear and distrust when viewed through the distorted lens of man’s religious impulse, and that human reason has been derided accordingly throughout mankind’s damaging religious experience.

Damaging? Of course. Just ask the aforementioned "heretic" who was burned for believing what science in due time came to confirm.

One aspect of my upbringing for which I’m eternally grateful was the near complete absence of religious instruction. There was an old book in the house about the lives of the saints, and it included some fairly frightening scary drawings depicting the various ways that these saints were tortured and scourged, though they were not to Goya’s level of artistic proficiency.

I recall another volume of illustrated children’s Bible stories, and of course a Bible itself, presumably awarded my parents on their wedding day, and duly ignored by my parents forever after.

Beyond these three seldom consulted sources, there was nothing else on the topic of religion forced upon me, and I was permitted to grow to maturity with the luxury of making up my own mind, absent indoctrination.

Hitchens reminds us that Blaise Pascal is famous for supporting belief in god by means of a wager, or more appropriately, a conscious effort to cover the spread: If you believe in god and god exists, you win. If you believe in god and god doesn’t exist … well, what does it matter, anyway?

Bertrand Russell is equally famous for refuting this wager by positing that if, after he died, he unexpectedly met a god of one sort or another, he would chide the "supreme being" for providing insufficient evidence of her existence.

Hitchens follows suit by stating his own version of Russell’s words.

My own reply: Imponderable Sir, I presume from some if not all of your many reputations that you might prefer honest and convinced unbelief to the hypocritical and self-interested affectation of faith or the smoking tributes of bloody altars. But I would not count on it.

I wouldn’t, either. It’s interesting to me that in some measure, Goya was right, and my own personal demons spring from my reliance on reason. But that’s encouraging, because it means that reason, properly applied, can scatter and dispel them.

There is no other choice, is there? Here is an excerpt from Hitchens as he summarizes his case.

Religion has run out of justifications. Thanks to the telescope and the microscope, it no longer offers an explanation of anything important. Where once it used to be able, by its total command of a worldview, to prevent the emergence of rivals, it can now only impede and retard – or try to turn back – the measurable advances that we have made. Sometimes, true, it will artfully concede them. But this is to offer itself the choice between irrelevance and obstruction, impotence or outright reaction, and, given this choice, it is programmed to select the worse of the two.

We're seeing this all too clearly in pandemic times, aren't we?

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As a postscript, let's go back to the local chain newspaper's predominately older white male cast of (in some cases decades ensconced) opinion piece authors. I have no desire to be listed among them again, primarily because I suspect the pay scale is even more abysmal than it was back in 2009 - 2011.

However, strictly as a matter of principle, it's worth repeating that there really should be a weekly column counterpoint to Bill Hanson's thinly-veiled proselytizing -- and weekly, Susan, just like Tom May's evangelism is, not "you can write a letter to the editor any time you like."

Here's my stand, as published last August.

ON THE AVENUES: Welcome to "Pagan Life," a weekly column devoted to heathens, infidels, idolaters, atheists, non-theists, irreligious people, agnostics, skeptics, heretics and apostates.

In my experience, atheists generally just want to be left alone, and prefer that religious belief remain a matter of private conscience and not a public policy lever.

It's funny how so many religions make public show of private conscience. Whatever. It's a pandemic holy-holi-day, and this atheist has penitent drinking to do.

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Recent columns:

May 14: ON THE AVENUES: Food is my friend, but please, I'm no foodie.

May 7: ON THE AVENUES: COVID tolls for thee -- whatever, so hurry and get your ass back into this seat.

April 30: ON THE AVENUES: A week that was wooden like Pinocchio and dry as an unused water park or an unfilled glass.

April 23: ON THE AVENUES: Hemingway in a time of mercifully silent thunder.

"Easter is a pagan festival."

A dose of pagan symbolism? Might as well, because brunch wasn't much fun this year.

The pagan roots of Easter, by Heather McDougall (Guardian)

From Ishtar to Eostre, the roots of the resurrection story go deep. We should embrace the pagan symbolism of Easter

Easter is a pagan festival. If Easter isn't really about Jesus, then what is it about? Today, we see a secular culture celebrating the spring equinox, whilst religious culture celebrates the resurrection. However, early Christianity made a pragmatic acceptance of ancient pagan practices, most of which we enjoy today at Easter. The general symbolic story of the death of the son (sun) on a cross (the constellation of the Southern Cross) and his rebirth, overcoming the powers of darkness, was a well worn story in the ancient world. There were plenty of parallel, rival resurrected saviours too.

ON THE AVENUES: Welcome to "Pagan Life," a weekly column devoted to heathens, infidels, idolaters, atheists, non-theists, irreligious people, agnostics, skeptics, heretics and apostates.

Long ago I humbly accepted the existence of a redemptive force in my daily life.

It’s called the “music gene,” and I seem to possess it -- or, maybe it possesses me. Unfortunately when the music gene was downloaded it came to me incomplete, and I'm absent commensurate musical ability of any identifiable sort.

Even so, music has spoken to me from the beginning, and as long as my hearing holds out, we’re good. Had my formative years been spent with musicians as role models rather than athletes, perhaps it all would have turned out differently. As it stands, I’ve no complaints.

The innate pleasure to be derived from listening to music is more of an essential heartbeat than an optional amusement, and I can’t imagine life otherwise. If the music in my head ever stops playing, it will be the unmistakable sign of imminent death -- and as all atheists know, death is a symphony without encores.

Speaking of atheists and death, let’s drop into local journalism’s intensive care unit.

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It’s been at least two years since the foundering News and Tribune doubled its column slots for religious advocacy, from one to two – or, approximately two times as many as needed.

In vain, I’ve asked: What about an “equal time for pagans” slot? Even better, perhaps the long overdue humanist food column, as suggested by the estimable Goliath.

Guys, I’m tanned, rested and ready -- and unlike Nancy Kennedy, I actually reside here. Each week, I’d begin by refuting a theist’s fallacy, end by pelting an effigy of Ken Ham with rotten fruit, and fill the space in between with tips on how to make the perfect fried chicken sandwich out of leftover school paste.

But no. We get the same uninspiring inspirational tracts, week in and week out. Management remains AWOL, and it was left to a reporter (now departed to greener any journalistic pastures) to attempt this explanation:

"A large portion of our readers are Christian. If you have specific questions or complaints, I would advise you contact our editors via email."

Like they'd reply?

This argument from majority rule is drearily predictable, and fallacious. In terms of catering content to pre-existing readership preferences, surely a majority of the newspaper’s steadily dwindling readership base utilize their filthy kitchen microwaves far more often than a featured Lynx Sedona 42-Inch Built-In Natural Gas Grill With One Infrared ProSear Burner And Rotisserie L700PSR, now only $3,399 at BBQGuys.com … and yet there’s been an informative regular barbecuing column for a decade or more.

A majority of the newspaper’s readers don’t hunt, fish and trap, preferring their vistas of the great outdoors to come through a handy window somewhere in the vicinity of their incessant televisions … and yet we now have at least one column about efficient creature-stalking.

As an aside, publisher Bill Hanson might be interested in knowing that “pantheists” believe god is to be found in nature, a position with no room for Jesus' teachings, and a stance antithetical to Hanson’s yearning to transform his inexorably fading newspaper into a vehicle for a particular Christian sect's proselytizing.

Verily, as for sports, I enjoy vigorously rebutting proselytizers even as I remind them to #getoffmyporch, using a lighted cigar for pointed emphasis, and the garden hose if necessary.

It’s a shame we can’t have this newspaper failure dialogue publicly; alas, not unlike Jeff Gahan, Hanson is hesitant to share his reasoning with wild-eyed heretics like me (for Hanson, "heretic" is defined as a non-subscriber; for Gahan, it's a non-donor). You’d think Sweet William and I could develop an invigorating “Saintly Christian versus Ghastly Atheist” point-counterpoint shtick, twice monthly.

But no ...

Meanwhile, for atheists like me, the calendar pages may turn, but irrationality rarely changes. It remains the norm that theists respond with annoyance (or worse) whenever an atheist has the unmitigated gall to come out of the closet and seek even the slightest measure of equality in discourse.

That’s just a bit hypocritical, and rather snowflaky as well. Think of every religious adherent who ever came knocking at your door while you were busy eating, drinking, sleeping or fornicating in the privacy of your own damn house.

Think of the transformative zeal of generations of ravenous Christians, traveling overseas for the sanctified purpose of subduing decadent native cultures, and conveniently spreading toxic Western diseases even as they blamed the dying natives for falling sick, urging them to immediately find God as the necessary cure just prior to the sacrificial massacre to follow.

Think of how so much of the history of organized western religion is one of evangelical outreach, and by its very nature, how evangelism is invasive and intrusive with regard to the physical and intellectual space of non-believers.

Not only that, but in the ever widening search for market share, think about evangelists from one coin-flip of a sect freely targeting those who ascribe to differing versions of ostensibly the very same supernatural source.

You’d think that believing in any God would do, and yet it’s never enough for them, is it?

Either way, if an atheist dares to attempt an explanation of why he or she doesn’t accept any of it, out comes the fear-mongering rhetoric.

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Granted, I spent many years evangelizing for good beer, although it isn’t like I’ve ever gone door to door creating a public nuisance. By extension, not once have I positioned myself at the entrance of a Christian church on Sunday morning in protest against the worship therein, or flashed an A’s team pennant at a devout John 3:16-er busily lofting signs at a ballgame.

Never have I sneaked up into the cathedral balcony and menacingly waved my portrait of Bertrand Russell at the minister, demanding that he repent from sin -- or whatever Nancy Kennedy and Tom May insist on calling this nonsensical concept.

That’s why, in the final reckoning, it would be somewhat hard to write an “atheism column,” because atheists are rationalists, offering no positive claims with respect to knowledge derived from outside the realm of human experience and perception. We’ve got nothing to sell, and that’s the whole point.

In the absence of verifiable evidence, atheism is a negation. It is the theist who is obliged to prove that God exists -- not the other way around. Perhaps it’s true that some atheists go a step further and proselytize in the manner of the religionist, but the percentage remains quite small.

During the past two thousand years, far more people have been asked to convert to religion at the point of a bayonet, routinely dying as a result of their refusal, than have been forcibly “converted” to atheism, all known variants of “communism” notwithstanding.

In my experience, atheists generally just want to be left alone, and prefer that religious belief remain a matter of private conscience and not a public policy lever.

They respect a separation of church and state precisely because history makes it abundantly clear against whom this public policy stick typically is wielded, generally resulting in a sad continuation of the war, violence and strife accompanying organized religion throughout human history.

It’s too bad, albeit perfectly in keeping with past practices, that Hanson isn’t interested in his readers hearing another side of the story. It’s a shame he doesn’t grasp the interests of the smaller segment whose viewpoints differ from his own. Has he considered them, even once?

And exactly how does he know the exact religious fetishes of his dwindling band of subscribers? Atheists pay, too. Shouldn't their needs be considered?

Here's the gospel truth: The $30 George Foreman Grill in our kitchen does a damned fine job, and the $3,369 we saved by rejecting the outdoor Manly Man Model Char-Master is more than enough to enjoy a nice, humanistic European holiday.

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Once upon a time during a tavern chat, I was asked if I could identify the source of my atheism. Was I rebelling against the religion of my parents?

No. While my childhood was not without general religious assumptions and a nebulous, largely unexamined “faith in something bigger” approach to talking points, there were no onerous obligations or regimented teachings, and overall, both my parents were remarkably open and tolerant.

If rebellion were the only goal, I’d have likely become a fundamentalist owing to the complete absence of instruction. Echoing the music gene, and adding to it my belief that mankind concocts religion to assuage its recognition and fear of death, maybe what I lack is the God gene, a predisposition toward accepting one or more versions of a deity.

I’m only guessing, since I’ve no experience with such a state of consciousness.

In all honestly, I cannot remember a time in my life when such a concept as God seemed plausible to me. Rather, it seemed mythological, a phenomenon best placed on dusty outmoded shelves beside ancient Greek small-case gods, Mayan rituals and Norse sagas.

Only later, in university, did I learn there was a name for the God gene’s absence: Atheism. It was the ultimate in revelations, for it was revealed to me that others felt the same way, and could explain their non-belief rationally. I needn’t embrace the palpably untrue, after all.

A musician like J. S. Bach certainly thought his considerable musical skills were gifts from God, intended to glorify and exalt Him. The simplistic vision of angels cleverly arranged on cloud banks, deploying a phalanx of harps to while away eternity, surely derives from this idea of music intertwined with holiness.

It doesn’t resonate with me. Music may well “have” its own gene, but its manifestation in a tangible, real world is a human construct. When liturgical music strikes a tuneful “holy” chord, it’s because of the meanings we’ve been taught to read into it, not a deity’s intervention in the composition.

Of course, if given the chance to choreograph my final departure, Samuel Barber’s "Adagio for Strings" would be a fine choice for greeting eternity. The music would play through, then end, and on the very next beat so would I. There would be the final silence, and life would continue without me.

Although on second thought the concluding power chord of The Who’s “Won’t Get Fooled Again” would work just as well. It makes no difference, as I won’t be around to feel it.

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Recent columns:

August 22: ON THE AVENUES: The 32 most influential books in my life.

August 15: ON THE AVENUES: Breakfast is better with those gorgeous little herrings.

August 8: ON THE AVENUES: Unless you open your eyes, “resistance” is an empty gesture.

August 1: ON THE AVENUES: The whys and wherefores can drive a man to drink; our lives just ARE, and that's that.

Read this now: "How Thor's Hammer Made Its Way Onto Soldiers' Headstones."

As we learned yesterday, the Hammer of Thor is included among the VA-approved emblems for federal military cemeteries cited yesterday.

The posting produced this comment from a blog reader.

The VA's list of available emblems for headstones and markers might help Dan Coffey choose invocation contestants.

So emblem 16 just demonstrates the intolerance and lack of respect shown by some elected members of New Albany's City Council.

The US government respects folks' religious opinions so much they even have a symbol for non-believers, allowing all to be equal in a federal military cemetery. No one's belief or non-belief is held up as better than any other.

Exactly why compulsory Council prayer to some one's notion of a "legitimate religion" is so repugnant.

Ranging back to the Hammer of Thor, reader KS provides this link, which helpfully explains ...

How Thor's Hammer Made Its Way Onto Soldiers' Headstones

... To summarize, Thor’s hammer represents heroism, nobility, self-reliance, and honor. It’s a symbol with a history that extends back a thousand years to pre-Christian Europe. And adherents of Odinism, the religion that Thor’s hammer represents, tend to make natural soldiers. Oh, and it also shares a pretty strong cultural heritage with a superhero who is, in his own weird, Technicolor, space viking way, as American as apple pie. How strange would it be, then, if the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs—the organization that oversees cemeteries dedicated to U.S. veterans and ultimately says which symbols can be used therein to represent your religious faith—had a problem with Thor’s hammer?

But for decades, the VA did have a problem with Thor’s hammer. Not so much for what Mjölnir stood for but because it was a pagan symbol, and pagan symbols were verboten.

With paganism usually viewed as an "umbrella term of convenience" covering numerous traditions, there isn't a single shared symbol or emblem.

What's more, "legitimate" religions like those venerated by Dan "Manic 7th Street Preacher" Coffey commonly denounce paganism, associating it with Satanism and witchcraft, thus complicating the decision-making process. In this instance, families of dead soldiers refused to compromise with the VA, and fought for the wishes of their loved ones.

 ... On September 25, 2005, Sergeant Patrick Stewart was killed in action in Afghanistan when a rocket-propelled grenade shot down his Chinook helicopter. An avowed Wiccan, it was Sgt. Stewart’s wish to be buried underneath the Pentacle. His widow, Roberta Stewart, petitioned for her husband to have his wishes respected by the Department of Veterans Affairs, but the VA stuck to their guns, claiming that the Pentacle was not a "recognized emblem of faith." The matter quickly came to a head, with Americans United for the Separation of Church and State filing a lawsuit on Stewart’s behalf in November 2006, arguing that the VA was showing favoritism for some faiths over others by having an "approved list" of religious symbols under which a soldier could be buried.

There was a settlement and the Pentacle was approved. Subsequently, "the Department of Veterans Affairs got out of the deciding game," but not until testimony from an embarrassing source was unceremoniously discarded.

On May 10, 2013, the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs quietly made an update to its official list of approved emblems, adding Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir. "There was no press release, no announcement, nothing," Pitzl-Waters marvels. "They just dumped the symbol, and all of a sudden, there was Thor’s hammer."

It's an article worth reading in its entirety.

Easter reading 3: "Easter is a pagan festival."

There's the Easter trifecta: The death of a hypocritical Christian; an atheists' convention; and a final dose of pagan symbolism.

The pagan roots of Easter, by Heather McDougall (Guardian)

From Ishtar to Eostre, the roots of the resurrection story go deep. We should embrace the pagan symbolism of Easter

Easter is a pagan festival. If Easter isn't really about Jesus, then what is it about? Today, we see a secular culture celebrating the spring equinox, whilst religious culture celebrates the resurrection. However, early Christianity made a pragmatic acceptance of ancient pagan practices, most of which we enjoy today at Easter. The general symbolic story of the death of the son (sun) on a cross (the constellation of the Southern Cross) and his rebirth, overcoming the powers of darkness, was a well worn story in the ancient world. There were plenty of parallel, rival resurrected saviours too.

Al Jazeera asks: "Is Christmas becoming a secular holiday?"

The video strikes me as fair and balanced.

Is Christmas becoming a secular holiday?, at Al Jazeera America

A growing number of Americans don't identify with a religion. Some see Christmas as a cultural, not religious, holiday.

Somehow, this year it was possible to avoid most of the mercantile excess and focus more on the pagan, solstice angles that make the holiday meaningful for an atheist like me.

Having said this, I hope all readers enjoy the day as they will, for whatever reason. Cheers.

Flip a coin, select an ancient religion -- one's as good as the next.

Greet the summer solstice. What I want most of all is for a Return of the Helles, not Hellenes, but Greece is all right, too.

It's fascinating to read the words of experts intent to prove that ancient religions are irrelevant owing to an absence of values. In fact, it's all gibberish. What's the real difference between blood sacrifices and the blood of Christ?

The Greeks who worship the ancient gods, by Matthew Brunwasser (BBC News Magazine)

The summer solstice, 21 June, is one of the most important dates in the calendar for many followers of ancient religions, and it's a special time for people in Greece who worship the country's pre-Christian gods.

"I love the energy this place has," says Exsekias Trivoulides who has pitched his tent on what he considers to be the holy site of Mount Olympus.

Trivoulides is a sculptor who studied art history and classics, and these days, he is living his passion.

Along with a few thousand others he is taking part in the Prometheia festival, which celebrates the ancient Greek hero Prometheus, who helped humans by stealing fire from the gods.