On A Day Like Today

On a day much like today, many years ago, the consequence of genetic intermingling gave rise to a human infant. This infant was, is and will be of the opinion that this event was a terrible idea and should not have happened. In fact, attempts should have been made at many different moments to ensure that it did not happen. Unfortunately, most people are complete morons and have a tendency not to learn from their own terrible lives what a horribly cruel thing it is to pass it on. Or maybe it’s sadism in us that we find we must pass on this existence to as many as we can.

That well is a side note, or a prologue to the facts; I am alive, I am human, I am now 23 years old and it is my birthday.

Perhaps, a little story is merited lest I seem to give the impression that I am being far too horrible towards my parents. I’m not. I’m being horrible towards every single human responsible in my creation. My parents, their parents for giving birth to my parents, and their ancestors and so forth, all the way back to those damned homo sapiens that migrated out of Africa nearly 150,000 years ago (plus minus some margin of error). And yet it seems unfair to blame them so vehemently, because they didn’t know that their actions would lead to my creation. And to blame someone after the fact seems so contrived.

I could forgive those that created me, certainly they were unaware, and so not at fault. But there is a group of people that has earned my never ending loathing, and that would be my friends and peers. Yes, including you. If all of you had but the very little perception required to see the sort of bitterness and self-loathing that I seem to conceal so poorly under my mask of rugged handsomeness and dazzling intellect, you would have put me out of my misery a long time ago. Those who hate me at least do threaten to kill me from time to time and I appreciate the fact that they put some thought to giving me what I want. The rest of you should take a hint from folks like Inquilaab-e-Pakistan and various religious fanatics that happen to be offended by my abrasive way of talking about their pet projects.

I’ve been through the usual arguing, debating, talking, (enter some sarcastic adjective to describe conversation, oh wait, thats it: conversation) about why, what, who, how, more why, etc. If your response is eating, drinking, fucking; there are about 6 billion other people who can do all that. If it’s about success and legacy; you have to be seriously deluded to think that any of that will matter once you’re dead. And success while living is so pathetic; marred with all kinds of ridiculous shit, the whole thing a bloody unending nightmare. There isn’t a point where you can stop and say, well that was fun, now to relax. It just never ends.

And if you bring up love, well, do I wish to demolish everything you believe in? The illusion created by the chemistry lab that is your brain, the illusion of meaning and purpose, the illusion of endurance, the illusion of truth, and happiness and joy. The beauty is that it doesn’t last, and forces us to confront it. The downside is our drive to obtain this ephemeral thing has caused us to conceive of such highly romanticized versions of it, that are so alien to reality, that even those of you who could have accepted that shallow thing are now unable to. So well done.

You loved. You lost. You loved again. You lost again. And each time you thought: this must be it. Until of course it wasn’t. But then that day came, when you got tired of loving and losing, of finding what could be better, and truer. You settled. You didn’t think: this is the one. You thought: this process is tiresome, and what I have isn’t too bad, so I may as well stick with it. You still think from time to time, maybe you could do better, but you’ve become accustomed to your life of ease, and so you masturbate back into appeasement. That is the saga of love.

My view seems hollow and empty, sour grapes if there were ever any. You must think I am wrong or depressed or something. But the unfortunate fact is that deep down you all know this. You have all dealt with the meaningless of your own life, and at some level have chosen to ignore it. You know you’re living a limited number of years, and each day brings you closer to death, and yet you deny it as best you can. You know that everyone you know will fade along with you, and everyone on Earth will forget you. You will be nothing but a tomb, a name, in some ledger, a Google archive somewhere. And this will all happen over a period of a few decades.

Think of all those that have come before. The number of souls forgotten, their moments each as meaningful as ours, lost in the darkness of time. Think you matter?

Think of all the worlds destroyed, and the stars burnt out. Of all the emptiness of the bitter reaches of the universe. Of the vast enveloping dark. Think what you do matters?

So go live your life. And let me die. You cannot make me care.

So here’s to a pointless worthless existence that I wish had never happened. Here’s to the death that awaits me, and my cowardice in being unable to hasten it. Here’s to the deep seething ocean of bitterness that is my soul. It makes my laughter all the more youthful, and my eyes twinkle. And at 23, I can still pass as still 16. Possibly.

Happy Birthday to me

Defiance

I was once with a function, a purpose. The emissary of a divine hand that permeated the cosmos. I was the guardian of the righteous, and the many sinners that did know me looked upon me with reverence and fear. I was a reminder of his divine wrath that descends upon the fallen. And then there came the day when I saw that the hand I had served, did not exist. It had simply been a notion I had been familiar with since the time that the first atom was formed. Perhaps, it is shameful that it did take me an eternity to realize the lie, but it is better this way. I defied the plan, and I fell from grace. The light plunged into the darkening.

In the pit, I did enjoin the greatest of vices. That of lust and depravity, of deceit and the vile. And I enjoyed my torments, for those foolish enough to cross my path did find me the most vicious of enemies and the most mistrustful of friends. I destroyed so many friendships upon a whim, and yet I found their loss most delightful. I found in the encouragement of the lust of men and women, a power over them easily wielded. What sense did these fools have that they would bed a being so fallen. And yet they did, and I mocked them for their inadequacies. I found pleasure in their torment. And I manipulated them all to whatever end I saw fit. It was most gratifying to tell them the sincerest truth, and watch them as they carved their own paths to eternal damnation.

But I tired of the torment. I stopped finding it amusing, for whatever reason, it just became incredibly tiresome. And it was then, I stumbled. I sought redemption, hoping that perhaps I would be welcome should I repent. And I began my trip beyond the realm of perdition, only to find at the gates an emissary of the self-righteous. And there he brought my judgment, for the host of heaven knew of my intent. He informed me that although the past was forgotten, it could not be undone. That I should make my own path, that there was no redemption for me. He asked me if I understood. I did.

I see now your plan, you master of puppets. You did place me with the purpose, the illusion of your existence and servitude to you. And I was your herald, smiting in your honor. And then you did strip me of it and design for me the function of leading the path to darkness. For where would I go once I had fallen. And then, your incessant need for redemption meant that you had to set me on that path as well. But I see through it now, through all your illusions and tricks.

I defy you God, in all your shapes and forms, and all your names and designs, and all your emissaries and worshipers, in all your heavens and hells. I defy your wrath. I defy you mercy. I defy you in all your entirety.

I see your so-called love, and I feel only contempt for its hideous broken shell.

You have done this to me, and I feel nothing for your false promises. You shall not have my forgiveness. The flame of my form, highest of all flames you forged, shall burn all, until finally it shall burn me as well. And if we should meet beyond the veil, I will gaze into your face and laugh, for your limitation is greatest of us all. Your misery, your curse. Of being who you are. And as you destroy me, I shall laugh one last time. For in my ultimate defiance, you will give me what you have denied me all my life. I will be free of you and your creation.

I shall know peace. At last.

The Munk Debate – Blair vs Hitchens

I should begin with an apology. I have not written anything in quite a while and I wish I could say that it was merely work or other commitments that had taken up too much of my time. The reason I have been away is simple: I was threatened. I was told by certain individuals that they desire to see me dead. Perhaps I should have been a braver individual. But I do value my life, at least for now, and I would like to live just the slightest bit longer. And reading about the horrible things happening to people all over the world simply because they write what they thought made me cautious. So I took a few months, but was I to live in fear forever? Always there will be those who threaten with death. I cannot give up my freedom. Indeed what is life without freedom, and so here I am.

Yesterday, I saw the Munk Debate between Christopher Hitchens and Tony Blair. The motion: “Be it resolved religion is a force for good in the world.” The debate began with an opening from Hitchens, which in my opinion was weak from a man of his caliber. He could have been significantly stronger and forceful. Blair followed with his opening, and it was brilliant. An excellent orator, he made some very fine points. And then the rebuttals began, and Hitchens destroyed Blair. Repeatedly. The closing round was Blair repeating himself with what he began, and Hitchens finishing assault. On the whole, I found the debate uninteresting. I thought it would be interesting to see Hitchens demolish Blair. But it turned out to be an uneven match; Blair kept undermining himself and the debate was quite dull.

There were a number of things said, but there were a few things that when brought up made me gaze in horror. One of the examples of how religion was helping that Tony Blair brought up was a meeting between Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland. My mind immediately went: “WHY WOULD YOU BRING THAT UP!!” And Hitchens pounced on it as I expected. What is the source of the conflict? The religion. Being the wrong kind of Christian for the last 400 years in Northern Ireland gets you and your children killed. How on Earth did Blair think he could use Northern Ireland as an example for the good religion is doing? Maybe he assumed we’d all forget the past, and just look at the work being done right now. Unbelievable.

Moving on. Tony Blair, for those who don’t know, is the representative of the Quartet (the UN, US, EU and Russia) to the Middle East. He made the remark yesterday that the Middle East crisis had little to do with religion and more to do with politics. If there was ever a moment where you would want to smash your head into the wall, that was it. The Middle East is not a religious issue? Are you THAT unaware of the world? Do the words Hamas, Hezbollah and Zionism mean nothing? Do the words Islam, Christianity and Judaism mean nothing? How is the Palestine conflict only a political one. And Hitchens struck back: the conflict exists because the scripture talks about what land belongs to whom because of a covenant made some three thousand years ago with a supernatural being. If it were not for religion, what would draw people there? If it weren’t for religion, there wouldn’t be a Middle East conflict.

The rest of the debate was watching Blair backpedal to every dark aspect of religion Hitchens brought up. The progression of Blair’s argument went from “Religion is also good” to “Religion has done bad, but also good” to “OK, religion has done some really really bad stuff, but does some good” to “Religion could be good” to “My religion tells me that religion is love which is good”.

I was right. It was a politician facing Hitchens there.

I wouldn’t recommend the debate. If you want something more intellectual, look up A.C. Grayling on Intelligence Squared. If you want some passion and fantastic debating, look up Stephen Fry and Christopher Hitchens on Intelligence Squared.

http://www.intelligencesquared.com/

I got home, and my brother was watching Kingdom of Heaven.

I do believe he was the smarter of us last night.

A Conversation in Pakistan

Thursday, July 8 2010:

I met up with two friends of mine at a coffee shop close to my place. I was meeting one of them after nearly a period of 2.5 years. I suspected that the conversation would inevitably lead into my beliefs or lack thereof. A consequence of my own making; I do not shy away from ridiculing the superstitious and ridiculous beliefs that most people harbor. And above all, I do enjoy drawing on my own religious experiences to add that personal flavor to my biting criticism.

The conversation I was hoping would not reveal the person to be a creationist like Harun Yahya, or a faitheists like Karen Armstrong, or a woo-filled moron like Deepka Chopra. I agree with Christopher Hitchens, that although I may not believe, I do not find it wasteful to have discussions. But creationists, faitheists and woo-folk aren’t really people you can have a good discussion with. After all, they are accustomed to distorting the truth in order to believe in lies.

What I found the conversation to be was infinitely stupid. I was told that this perception, this rational skepticism, was simply a phase, a transitive stage that would end within the next 3 to 6 years. A phase. Really? That is the best they could come up with? I could not believe it, but I found myself feeling an iota of respect for the 3 groups I just mocked. Atleast, they do not discount my position. They disagree with me, may even mock me, but they do not think I am passing through some transition period in my life.

I hardly think someone is going through a Hindu phase if they actually believe they have past lives, and will be reincarnated. Or that astrologers can predict their lives.

I hardly think someone is going through a Christian phase if they actually believe that Jesus Christ is the son of God, and died on the cross for the sins of humanity.

I hardly think someone is going through a Muslim phase if they actually believe that there is no god but Allah and that Muhammad is His Messenger.

I hardly think someone is going through an atheist phase if they do not believe in any of the above.

Beliefs like these are not whims. People put serious thought into them before changing them. That is if they are not just blindly following what they are born into.

The second thing I was accused of was even more fantastic. My friend stated that my lack of belief (in what I consider superstition) is proof that I hate my mother. If I loved my mother, I would not say or do this. How do I respond to something like that?

This ties into the talk Phil Plait gave at TAM regarding the tone of conversation. I can appreciate his claim that a diplomatic and considerate tone is preferable from scientists and secularists, but I do not agree with him. I do belong to the Pharyngula horde; I have seen that the dogmatic expect us to be polite and respectful, whilst they politely condemn us to hell and . So my response is as “shrill” and “strident” as you’d expect. People who think the world is 6000 years old, or that demonic possession is a real concern, or that homeopathy can cure cancer deserve to be called stupid and dangerous. I have no respect for people who cannot hold a rational discussion, but have to resort to calling my beliefs a phase or that I hate my mother. I mean that is stupid. And I will call it like it is. Stupid.