Category Archives: The Evidentialism Files

Losing My Anti-Religion

Goddamnit.

I never thought the day would come, but I’m going to have to renounce my atheism and cast my lot in with the believers.

The latter half of that proclamation is nothing new; I’m such a believer in (and product of) the Scientific Method that I take it as nothing short of faith. The first part, though, I never thought I’d have to utter.

But watching an episode of The Atheist Experience, a YouTube channel, finally sent me over the edge.

The show, hosted by Matt Dillahunty, features some lively debates between Dillahunty and select other atheists, who field ardent and sometimes angry calls nationwide from believers. I called in once. They take calls only from believers.

Matt Dillahunty - Wikipedia
Matt Dillahunty

The shows of late have gone like this: A caller rings in and says something to the effect of: “I know you guys say there’s no God, but...”

At that point, Dillahunty unfailingly cuts off the caller to correct the record about his position on God — and the definition of atheism: the disbelief or lack of belief in the existence of God or gods. “I’m not saying there is no God,” Dillahunty is fond of saying. “I’m saying the burden of proof is on the believer making the claim.”

The caller is usally so thrown off by the nitpick that they never get to the meat of the philosophical difference.

I’m calling bullshit. Yes, that is the Oxford definition of atheism. But we know that everyday atheists mean ‘There is no god.’ when they identify as such.

I know that as fact because I used to say and think it all the time. And if you’re still talking Oxford’s definition ((in Christianity and other monotheistic religions) the creator and ruler of the universe and source of all moral authority; the supreme being), I’d say it still.

But in the spirit of the law (which is what we all seek, yes?), I’ve abridged my thinking. If religion is undeciphered science (which I also take as faith), then that undeciphered science is the higher power. Whatever you want to call it — empiricism, evidence-based, factual, provable, predictive, falsifiable — that what I believe. That’s what I am.

And I’m tired of hearing people tell me who they’re not.

It’s that very behavior that has proved such political mildew at either end of the spectrum. On the right, you have a GOP that will tell you what they’re against: abortion, gun control, Obamacare. Ask them specifically what they do want, and you’ll get a CPAC-smeared version of “I don’t want to get ripped off anymore.”

The mold is no less toxic on the port bow. What is the woke cancel culture but a societal rejection of what we’d like to forget about ourselves?

Both are easy way outs, a sound bite after a close game, a political answer to an apolitical question. We like all music. We like all foods. We are non-binary, off-the-guage, undefinable-but-still-uniquely-individual fingerprints on the steering wheel that is humanity.

Fuck that. Pick a side, suit up, and get on the field. Regardless of jersey, we’re human, right?

We all believe in something.

Then There’s the Dane…

Miller's Crossing | Cinema 1544: The As-Official-As-It-Gets Site

God help me, I’m considering a Great Dane.

I’ve never owned one, and only met them at dog parks. I met one so handsome and Paul-Newman-blue-eyed I told the owner it may have been the most beautiful animal I’d ever met. He said thanks, but that he was just the walker. He said the dog had its own agent, it was booked for so many commercials and magazine shoots.

Every Thing You Need To Know About Great Dane Eye Colors

I don’t give a shit about magazine covers, but I gotta admit: I’ve always loved horsedogs. In truth, my Walter Mitty existence involves owning a horse. But let’s be real; I’m no cowboy.

I am, however, a dogboy. And the bigger the better. Teddy tipped the scales at 75 pounds, Larry 80. Now I’m flirting with the idea of a single dog that outweighs them both.

I’m not sure why I’m drawn to such an enterprise, because every column and YouTube video I’ve watched warns: Be prepared to do the work. There’s no short-changing training or attention with a Dane.

Perhaps that’s the appeal. I once knew a 120-pound Detroit Rottweiler, a frightening site to behold. She looked like she’s have you for an appetizer, but she was all softie. And when a 120-pounder splays on you, it’s a lovegasm, plain and simple.

Should You Let Your Dog Sleep in Your Bed? | Hill's Pet

I think I want that again. I’m not one with the natural world; I don’t commune or meditate or chant a mantra. Your cosmic unity will always sound like a horoscope to me.

But maybe I find the world through dogs. I know this is parental dementia, but a dog’s breath to me must smell like what baby’s breath smells like to a mother. I don’t engage in dog speak, but that’s only because I think it demeans both parties. But if I could get through, I’d bark over talking.

I know this instinct would cost, literally and figuratively. I would want insurance. Dog food would cost some people’s rent. Shit would drop like a Trump rally.

And still…

WOLF IN YOUR DOG? | TheDogPlace.org

I’ve never had a parenting urge. But this desire to bring a wolf to guard my campfire is primal.

If a dog is my entree to the universe, maybe it should be soul that blows the goddamn doors off.