It’s Jesus on a banana peel…or is it a monkey from Planet of the Apes?

Lisa thinks she’s found Jesus on her banana peel (insert your own crude sexual joke here). She ate the Jesus banana (insert another crude sexual joke here). I don’t know what to say. To me it looks like a primate. Judge for yourself. Here is the Jesus banana.

And here are some pics of the apes from the latest Planet of the Apes movie.

I see ape! I don’t see jesus at all. What do you see?

PS: POA fans, please don’t get on my case for referring to the apes as “monkeys” on the title. It really doesn’t matter.

Behold the Jesus Venn Diagram

Clusterflock brings us this cutie:

Can I call this stupid?

I have been getting a bit of flack on the comments of my entry in which I disagreed with Brian Dunning about using the label stupid. Now, I think no one can argue with me that this idiot is not stupid. Just go look at his other videos. Case closed, this guy is a mental case! The only question I am interested in is this: Did he get stupid because he got religious or did he become religious because he was stupid? Or is there no correlation at all? I don’t know, you make up your own mind.

UPDATE: I’m being told this is satire. I don’t know. I have seen and heard fundamentalist christians talk like this before, plus there is no indication that he is not serious (unlike with say Ed Current!). Maybe it is satire, in which case this guy is brilliant. Either way, enjoy!

Question to Christian readers

I have a question to ask our Christian readers. This is something that has been bothering me for a while. Maybe it is a misconception or a misunderstanding, but either way I’m throwing it out there for comments:

If we are born sinful because of the original sin perpetrated by Adam and Eve, and if Jesus died on the cross for our sins (presumably absolving us of our sins) does that mean that any human born after Jesus died and was, allegedly, resurrected born free of sin? If not why not? Wasn’t that the purpose of Jesus’ death on the cross?

Popular Pastor Encourages Child Suffering

A popular Christian pastor, John Piper, thinks spanking is okay. Actually, that’s a bit of an understatement. He’s really excited about spanking.

He believes God makes us suffer, so we should imitate him and make our children suffer by spanking them.

No, I’m not kidding, and no, this isn’t a parody.

Here are some quotes from “Would Jesus spank a child?“:

If Jesus were married and had children, I think he would have spanked the children.

Actually, I think the wonder-working Jesus would have been able to control his kids without hitting them, don’t you? If he could walk on water and rise from the dead, it seems doubtful he’d need to spank his children to keep them in line.

But why would someone think it’s a great idea to hit children? For Piper, it’s a view of God who hurts his children because he loves them:

Deep down, does this person believe that God brings pain into our lives? Because … God disciplines every son whom he loves, and spanks everyone that he delights in (my paraphrase). And the point there is suffering. God brings sufferings into our lives, and the writer of the Hebrews connects it to the parenting of God of his children….

God uses suffering to discipline his children. So do we.

Oh, so God’s like an abusive husband who hits his wife because he loves her! I get it now. He’d be gentle and kind, but that just wouldn’t be as effective, you know?

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The historical Jesus-Why care?

There is a lot of time and effort spent by people trying to find out if a man named Jesus actually existed or not. The search for the historical Jesus is resurrected time after time. But why care? Does this missing piece of evidence matter? Why should we as skeptics care if Jesus really existed or not?

I suppose the answer is that we don’t, we shouldn’t. Jesus’ existence has nothing to say about his supposed miracles. We know John Edward exists, I can pretty much guarantee that, but that does not have anything to say about his supposed psychic abilities. That much ought to be clear to anyone, it’s simple, straight logic. But then why are people so obsessed with the quest of the historical Jesus?

I think at the heart of this lies a logical fallacy. At least based on what I have observed, I think that the religious folks are more obsessed with this issue than the non-religious. After all they are the ones trying to prove something. I think there is a thought in their head, albeit I do allow for the possibility that in many cases this may be unconscious, that if they prove that a man named Jesus actually lived, preached and died on the cross, that would lend more credibility to the Bible as a historical book, thus lending more credibility to everything the bible says, including the miracles and the whole God stuff.

I suspect they think that proving that Jesus existed will make his described miracles more true, than if he didn’t. In a certain sense that is true. He would have to have existed in order to have performed these so-called miracles. But nevertheless, just because a man existed does not, on its own, increase the likelihood of him having walked on water. Furthermore, when we as skeptics analyze the so-called miracles, we’re already assuming, for the sake of the argument, that that human being existed. We’re not even worrying about that, because as I said, if we did not assume that, there would be no conversation to be had. So we’re already giving the benefit of the doubt to the believer. You say there was a man called Jesus who lived 2,000 years ago. Fine, I’ll accept that claim. Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, and that claim alone is not so extraordinary. The miracle claims on the other hand are quite amazing, so for those we require much more evidence than a book.

So to answer my original question, we shouldn’t care. I don’t care, it makes no difference one way or another if Jesus turns out to have actually existed or not. It’s inconsequential to the issue at hand, and there’s nothing to be gained in this regard by that piece of information.

“What matters is that they show respect.”

Bill Donohue, president of the Catholic League, recently released a press release chastising the writers of the Fox crime show “Bones” for an on-screen portrayal of blasphemy, saying that one of the lines spoken by a character on the show “cuts to the heart and soul of Catholicism” and “was entirely gratuitous.”

This is the line in question, which occurs during a conversation between two characters and is spoken by the show’s title character: ““One pastor gets her teeth whitened, and the other drinks wine on Sunday mornings and tells everyone that it’s been miraculously transformed into blood. Which of those is more outlandish?”

““It does not matter that non-Catholics may not accept what happens at Mass. What matters is that they show respect,” commented Mr. Donohue, whose successful career of Catholic advocacy work includes respectfully blaming Jessica Delfino for terrorism, respectfully saying that Jews control Hollywood, and respectfully referring to the creators of “South Park” as “little whores” (they respectfully cajoled him right back in a later episode). He has also waged a profoundly respectful war against PZ Myers for desecrating the Eucharist, and against University of Central Florida student Webster Cook for refusing to be force-fed a magical cracker.

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Jesus Took My Stuff

CLICK HERE TO GO TO THE ORIGINAL ENTRY AT “SKEPCHICK”

When I was nine years old, my mother became a born-again Christian. This was a pretty common occurrence in the area in which I grew up, as most mothers didn’t work, and truthfully, boredom and depression would kick in. She met a member of a church whilst waiting for me at the school gates, got chatting, and was offered the secret to eternal happiness and fulfilment: Jesus.

The organisation turned out to be one of those Pentecostal happy clappy Church of Christ jobbies, an import from the USA and quite unlike the stiff upper lip Church of England services one usually had to endure at weddings and funerals. The minister and his wife were young, attractive and American, which to my young mind was the height of exotic. We were very poor, but the weekly tithe seemed a small price to pay for the revelation that Jesus loved us and would supply everything we need if we asked hard enough. Or, would move in mysterious ways, and that was also OK, cause who needed a new bike when you had eternal life?

I went to a couple of services and social events with my mom, found it fun and full of promise and soon made the very adult decision to also become a Christian. My sister and father followed suit, and we were all baptised in a heated swimming pool followed by a finger buffet and a round of ‘You Can’t Get To Heaven On Rollerskates’ accompanied by me on tambourine.

Fast-forward a year, and the gloss started to wear off as Jesus made his first claim on my possessions. I wasn’t materialistic, I was merely a kid, and I liked my stuff. As I mentioned, we were poor, so stuff was hard to come by and birthdays and Christmas were pretty much the only opportunities I had to add to my bounty of treasures. But, I did own the entire collection of

Jackson and Livingstone Fighting Fantasy Gamebooks

If you haven’t played these, starting with the masterpiece Warlock of Firetop Mountain, stop reading this and go and grab a copy from eBay. You must at least be familiar with the concept: a book in which you choose your own adventure. “You turn a corner and an Orc is standing in front of you! To hit him with your fist, turn to page eight. To throw a turd at him, turn to page 43″. Etc. Conceptually genius, and I had ‘em all. I even had the spinoff board game which cost me my entire birthday money. But, my mom started to express concerns that the books were ‘satanic’ in nature (well they did have demons and magic in them) and suggested that Jesus would not approve. After a sleepless night of asking Jesus (and some secret masturbation for which I prayed for forgiveness), I concurred, and the next day we built a bonfire and burned the whole lot, board game and all. I remember thinking that I was destroying something inherently evil. Then again, I was a small girl and not really in a position to tell evil from madness.

The second thing that Jesus took was

My great-grandmother’s mirror

Mirrors, as you know, are easily possessed by demons. At least, that was what we were told when I was 12 years old and my mirror, a bequest from my late great-grandmother, threw itself across the bedroom. Or rather, it fell off the wall. But our particular brand of Jesus-lovin’ was the hysterical paranoid sort and the mirror was deemed possessed and responsible for my recent spate of behavioural issues (nothing to do with being 12 years old and having just lost a parent, you understand. Demons did it). So, they exorcised the mirror, and yes, they exorcised me. I am sort of strangely proud of having been exorcised, as it was every bit as dramatic as you’re imagining. Unfortunately, even though it was then declared demon-free, the mirror was a source of fear for me and I threw it out immediately. Jesus claims another bit of my stuff.

The final thing that Jesus took was my copy of

The Demon Headmaster by Gillian Cross

This is a brilliant kid’s book, about a headmaster who uses his evil eyes to hypnotise an entire school into behaving well. I loved it, but once religion entered our household, my mom became very uncomfortable with the title and the subject matter. One day, I got home and the book was gone. My mom pleaded ignorance, citing a miracle. Jesus took it. I asked Jesus, via the power of prayer, and he told me that my mom probably threw it out. I still don’t know who to believe, frankly. The son of god, or the mother of me? One of them is a lying bastage. Either way, where’s my freaking book?

There were probably more things, but those are the three which have stuck in my mind, and which, as a rabid atheist, I resent more than 20 years later. Of course, this whole story is a fable about letting irrational beliefs and paranoia affect your judgement, but it’s also about how I have a score to settle with Jesus. He doesn’t know that the brownies I sent him are past their use-by-date…and that time I prayed for forgiveness for masturbating? HA! I DIDN’T MEAN IT!

CLICK HERE TO GO TO THE ORIGINAL ENTRY AT “SKEPCHICK”

Museum defies pope over crucified frog

ROME (Reuters) – An Italian museum Thursday defied Pope Benedict and refused to remove a modern art sculpture portraying a crucified green frog holding a beer mug and an egg that the Vatican had condemned as blasphemous.

The board of the Museion museum in the northern city of Bolzano decided by a majority vote that the frog was a work of art and would stay in place for the remainder of an exhibition

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#41 God

Prepare thyself, he who reads this, to tremble and sob before the Wonderful Words of The Lady Madonna, as written by The Blessed Virgin Mary herself!

Shalom! Shalom everyone! It’s me, the Blessed Virgin Mary. I thought I’d take a break from appearing to you all in grilled cheese sandwiches and restaurant drains to give you my perspective on God.

Now listen up bubbalas, you would think that being nailed by the Omnipotent Jehovah would have been the thrill of my life. Well I’m here to tell you, not so much. Oye. Truth be told, the whole immaculate conception experience was terribly overrated.

God’s schmeckle must be puny because I didn’t feel a thing. There was no foreplay, no fondling of the breasts, no licking my loch, no divine sweet nothings whispered in my ear, no nothing. Just schtup, schtup, schtup and “see you ’round the stable, Mary.” Typical man.

God didn’t even have the common courtesy of telling me Himself that I was knocked up. He sent one of His angels, Gladys, to break the news. I was heartbroken.

A single mother indeed! I’ll tell you something else. Although I was quite the looker in those days (good skin, long brown hair, great tits), I was only 13. That’s right, God is a sexual predator. Imagine, He could have picked any woman in the world to carry His Son, and that schmoiger chooses a 13-year-old girl. That meshugeneh God has got some chutzpah!

Jesus was an ugly baby.

So 8 and a half months later, there I was, full-blown and ready to plotz, when Joseph makes me schlep all the way to Bethlehem just to be counted in some fakakta census. What, they couldn’t make an exception for one pregnant girl? Oye! That Joseph, what a schmendrick he was!

So when we get there, do you think God had any of his angels call ahead to reserve us a room? Oh no, that shmageggi let me give birth to His faygala Son in some schlocky barn full of donkey dreck. Feh!

And who does he send to meet us there? These three fershtinkiners bearing worthless gifts of frankincense, myrrh, and more myrrh. Oye gevalt. And don’t believe that dreck that one of the kings brought us gelt either. Those greedy goys didn’t even bring me any water or at least something to nosh. Now that I could’ve used!

So what was supposed to be a mitzvah ended up getting all fakakta, and all because God is such a cheap schvantz-sucker. Oye gevalt! I hate that schmuck. If it’s not too much trouble, I suggest you all stop praying to him and pray to me instead. I’m a good Jewish mother, and a much better parent than God. You want some matza-ball soup? Eat! Eat! You’re skin and bones!

CLICK HERE TO GO TO THE ORIGINAL ENTRY AT “STUFF GOD HATES”