Theism; Tedium.

I could easily waste everybody’s time by selecting and naming the many reasons why I’m an atheist, but that’s nowhere near as colourful and interesting as the reasons of why I like being an atheist, a humanist, and a believer in science. I have met fellow a nonbeliever who have expressed wishes that although they cannot believe the claims of religion to be true, they would like very much for them to be. While I believe that it would be truly horrid if it were true, I find most enjoyment in enlightening people to the fact that religions and deities are poorly-constructed, man-made and most of all, boring.

They certainly are. Religion really is fucking dull. Let’s take for example the beginning of existence. The religious claim to know this, among many other things; after all, it is right under their noses, spelt out in the first sentence of the Bible:

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the Earth.

That’s all well and good, but aside from having absolutely no proof, it’s a dull and uninventive solution to the problem of existence. Of course, it’s also un-falsifiable; there is no way an atheist such as I can disprove that sentence (the moniker of a bad argument, not a good one). But herein lies the reason I enjoy atheism; when put against what science has to offer, I see the creation myth of genesis to be utterly inferior in terms of storytelling, wonder and beauty. The immensely complex process of the Big Bang which in turn led to the rapid spinning of this tiny particle of space-dust we call Earth is unfathomably amazing, the process mind-boggling to even the most accomplished of scientists. Hence why I prefer nonbelief; it’s so much more fascinating and complementary to the human mind. Theology is old and tedious. Put Hawking’s explanation of an Event Horizon – a cataclysmic black hole which could quite literally make travelling through time and space possible – against Moses’ burning bush. Seriously, think about that for a second. It’s undeniable that the facts and laws of nature far eclipse any ill-thought out claim the Religious have to offer in its place.

Religion has liked few things better over the ages than to interfere with man’s quest to better understand the world. Their sheer opposition towards the enlightenment shows just how man-made these cults are (driven by the thirst for power, nothing more) and thus how old and dated they remain today. You want to shuffle into an out-dated old building every Sunday and wallow in self-pity to a being that never answers you? Go right ahead. You want to listen to what a bunch of sinister old virgins have to say on how you should live your sex life? Fine. You want to praise human sacrifice like it’s a magnificent, beautiful thing? That’s nice. Personally, I find that to be incredibly dull and useless. If you look at the world through a completely objective, atheist mind, trust me; you’ll find a lot more beauty and wonder than you ever will in that monstrous book some call the Bible.

Oh, you turned water into wine? How quaint! Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to go over here and split this atom. Oh, and put those goggles on; you’ll need them.

Chevelle - Wonder What's Next

There are few things that I can write about in spur-of-the-moment. Usually I need to compose my literary-self before sitting down with my laptop, coffee and over-developed sense of wit. Chevelle’s album Wonder What’s Next is one of those rare things I’m willing to let spill right onto the page. In fact, I’m listening to it right now. Working my way through these carefully constructed hard rock songs, I’ll bring you an idea of the inspiration that’s flowing right into my ear canals.

(…what a delightful image that was).

It’s important to me that I recognise that in all honesty, this isn’t a great album; definitely not one that deserves its own space in the blogosphere. It’s more the fact that for me, this album is the epitome of Indie-Rock; songs that are bursting at the seams with high melodies and delightful guitar passages, but are never likely to make it to the radio, let alone the Top 100. And yes, I do feel pretentious when I mention the fact that hardly anyone, save myself and the few in my own band have actually heard of this outfit; Chevelle, the underground trio of brothers from Chicago. Never before have I felt so inspired to write about a totally-underground-but-far-from-indie-acoustic collection of Drop B-tuned riffs.

Firstly, this album is metal. Riffs on songs such as Family System and Wonder What’s Next are chunkier than the group scales at the start of a Biggest Loser season, while there’s enough chugga-chug throughout to keep metal fans happy and enough screams to deter any religious zealots (although Chevelle were originally signed to a Christian label). However, this isn’t a metal album. No sooner have you un-imploded your face from the crushing riffs when you hear Pete Loeffler’s adolescent voice whine over strained chords: I’m tired of your open mouth / Crawling inside my skin / Endless pain we never quit / The fight within that pride’s begun. Indeed, this album is full of pretty melodies and falsetto passages, enough so that any susceptible girls in the audience immediately crumble whenever Loeffler moans: So send the pain below / So send the pain below –oh-whoa.  

Although one couldn’t really call this a true metal album, it’s music and themes are indeed dark. Songs such as Closure and Don’t Fake This feature macabre passages with clean guitar tones and downbeat rhythm, while Comfortable Liar boasts a riff so devilishly simple you just beg Pete Loeffler to repeat it at the end of every bar; which he mercifully obliges. Lyrically, this album covers everything from liars to relationships to those dickheads who fight people at gigs. As a usual lyrical critic that I am, most of the lines written by Loeffler make adequate sense and are shaped to be delivered effectively in the verses. I look back on my Year 10 days now, prancing around my small room with my air-guitar, singing along; We play the blaming game / Yes I mind / It’s not your turn.

Although this album has actually been certified platinum since its release in 2002, it’s something that I hold very dear as an underground staple of rock; a rare hybrid between mainstream Nu-Metal riffs and Pop-Punk vocal melodies, a bold voyage into a musical atmosphere dominated by heavy, double-tracked guitar tones and pounding, incessant 4/4 bars.

 I’ll be quite frank; you probably won’t like this album. You certainly won’t see how I can possibly justify my above praise; you’ll probably just be drowned in distortion and whining, all while thinking ‘How did they get signed with a riff like that? I could have come up with that in Year Eight.’ Be my guest, however, and see if you can see something in this now-aging record. If not, leave me be in this special category I’ve created of being hipster and elitist with a childish hard-rock album. 

What a man's got he'll learn to hate. 

A digression on sex, and a bit on the Church, too.

It’s almost as though the Catholic Church has forever gone out of their way to intentionally piss off not only me (someone who has undergone most of the sacraments), but the rest of the rational-thinking human race as well.  Homosexuality, for example, is still seen as a moral evil in the eyes of the Vatican (although representatives of the Church speak of such issues as though they never condemned all homosexuals to a fiery afterlife in the first place).  This sort of stone-age fascism is apparent in many aging Biblical issues that date back thousands of years; the most prolific of which all revolving around the Church’s attitudes towards sex and sexuality.

Let’s be frank. This Church is absolutely obsessed with sex. You name it; if it’s sexual, the Church is likely to have a problem with it. We must not forget that the Church condemns eternal damnation – that is, never-ending screaming brutal agony – for the ‘crimes’ of fornication, adultery, masturbation, and use of contraception. Such heinous acts, right? On top of that, any participation in abortion or stem-cell research will earn you serious brownie points with the Devil. So, how does one account for the Vatican’s supreme intolerance of the naughty?

For one, there’s something about female sexuality that sincerely offends the Clergy. Even Jesus, the great Saviour, couldn’t have been conceived out of a passionate embrace like every other human being on the planet. No, the blessed Mary had to be completely pure, and God’s son had to cometh from a completely sexless conception (and Mary was to remain a virgin for the rest of her life. Poor old Joseph). It’s worth mentioning that even Buddha, the noble figurehead of peace in Buddhism, was said to be born from a split in his mother’s side; anywhere but from the awful and disgusting vagina. This sickening male chauvinism demonstrates once more just how old and man-made these cults are.

On top of that, celibacy is not only seen as a commendable achievement in the Vatican, but as a fundamental prerequisite for membership. If you have had the misfortune of losing your virginity, there is no way you can attain a respectful position in the Catholic Church (to answer a question I get often – yes, the Pope and all the high bishops you see are, in fact, 70 year-old virgins). I need not digress on the numerous sex scandals committed by members of this Church on innocent young victims to demonstrate the danger of such celibacy, but it may be worth suggesting to the religious that maybe, just maybe, it’s a tad dangerous to strictly suppress one of humankind’s most potent instincts; the need to procreate, or simply, lust.

Although imprudent, some might suggest that these views are essentially harmless. After all, what does it matter if a strange bunch of old people are ordering me to keep it in my pants? Screw them, right? Unfortunately, some of the consequences of these dogmas cannot go ignored. From the Epigee Catholic Family Planning Website:

Barrier methods of birth control, such as the condom and the cervical cap, along with hormonal contraceptives, like the birth control pill and Depo-Provera, are thought to interfere with the act of conception.

(Well, fuck a pot-noodle. You don’t say?!)

To Catholics, purposely stopping the joining of an egg and sperm is thought to be a Sin. Therefore these forms of birth control are not accepted.

Putting aside for one moment the tremendous strain this puts on Catholic families who don’t want to procreate with every sexual encounter, think more of the AIDS-affected places of the world, such as Uganda, one of the most devastated HIV hotspots in Africa. Now, I won’t deny that abstinence, the practice of refraining from sexual activity, is a very, very good way to prevent getting HIV/AIDS. It really is. On the flip side, however, so are condoms. They really do work. For Joseph Ratzinger, the man most refer to as the Pope, to suggest that the distribution of prophylactics in Africa actually increases the likelihood of spreading the virus just exemplifies the disastrous effect the Church’s teachings can have on many innocent lives. Such monstrous and vile comments are all inspired by the Clergy’s ancient views on sex, which are neither practical nor moral.

To kick off a much-belated conclusion; I won’t deny that sex is a potentially dark and dangerous act. Given the right circumstances, it can be hurtful, undignified and destructive. It’s a bit like competitive sport in that respect, and also in the fact that it can be wonderful and joyous for all involved. It’s jolly, it’s fun, everyone likes doing it, and there is no moral harm in casual intercourse outside or within the confines of marriage. But in all meaning of the word ‘truth’, you won’t go to hell for touching yourself, or wearing a strip of latex to prevent pregnancy or diseases. I mean no disrespect or resentment towards individual and pious followers of this Church, but I must remind anyone who is reading this that when you listen to the teachings of this Church and many other religious, you are indeed being commanded by a bunch of sinister old virgins exactly where you can put your sexual organs, and in what position.

Sorry Bennie, but that just won’t fly.