Gervais: Thank you to God … for making me an atheist

Love it. And I didn’t even watch the damn awards.

Watch the opening monologue here in which Ricky Gervais kills. Rawesome.

Oh, and listen to this interview with Gervais on NPR Sunday morning. I listened to it this morning and it cracked me up.

Sunday must sees, must reads or must hears

• There are two from Joe My God. This week in holy crimes is a solid fun time. And he posted last night’s SNL digital short featuring Pee Wee Herman and Anderson Cooper. Very funny.
• Science is this close (this close!) to cloning a woolly mammoth. We’re four years out (maybe!). I can’t wait for my first woolly mammoth ride! I bet they cuddle like kittens.
• A loyal dog sits for a second consecutive day beside the grave of her owner. Lump-in-the-back-of-your-throat-inducing photo right here.
• “Chances of rape today about 70% and sunshine for tomorrow.”
• Italian prime minister Silvio Berlusconi investigated for doing the dirty with a 17-year old. But she was a prostitute, so  no harm no foul. Just kidding.
• Penis museum will soon display a human penis. Where’s my vagina museum at [self sic]?
• Already old news: I’m now a Leo, not a virgo. And I still don’t care.
• Dream camera porn of the day. Too bad it’s not real … yet! (Thanks, Jon!)

Above: photo I took of a church in Cleveland, OH.

Ex-girlfriend explosion

Image via Wikipedia

I forgot that I wanted to write yesterday that my trip to Cleveland was an ex-girlfriend reminder explosion.

I dated a girl in college who was from Cleveland. I visited there a couple times while we dated. I’ve been to the Rock and Roll Hall of fame only because I liked someone from where it exists. Otherwise, who goes out of their way to go there?

Even as a music lover, I didn’t find it all that interesting.

At midnight, I went out to the parking lot of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, dosed an old photo album of her photos with gasoline and flicked a half finished cigar onto it.

It burned like Jimi Hendrix’s guitar.

And my return flight to Chicago was run by Colgan Air. When my ex-girlfriend from high school/some of college dumped me, she met a guy in Paris on a missions trip whom god told her she would marry.

God told her this.

God.

He spoke.

Are you reading the words I’m writing?

God told someone to marry someone else.

One hundred per cent bullshit.

This kid’s last name, whom god told my girlfriend to marry, was Colgan and his family owns and operates an airline out of Washington DC. This Colgan boy would jump on flights down to NC to spend time with my ex-gee-eff.

This was the girlfriend who leaped headfirst off the high dive into the crazy pool for Jesus. When we met, she was the coolest person I ever knew. She was super intelligent. She was really involved in secular activities. She volunteered her time with dying children. She traveled the world. She danced. She rode horses.

And then I came along. I was poor. I played in a band. And all I could give her was Christ. It took a couple years, but once she prayed that prayer, it was downhill.

Her coolness deflated and all she wanted to do was live to the tune of god’s voice in her little noggin. When she went nuts for Christ, I was able to examine how ridiculous religion could be. While it didn’t start the doubts I already had, it definitely allowed me to see things from different perspectives.

My parents always taught us that there were forms of Christianity that weren’t necessarily correct in their worship methods. That girlfriend ended up worshiping in ways that the lesser Christians worshiped.

When I realized how ridiculous it was to think that one Christian is superior over the next, it was like Red Bull … it gave me wings … and now I’m free as a bird of all that circular reasoning.

Free as a bird … Like Free Bird …

ROCK and ROLL!

I hate everything about the end of this post, but I’m going to leave it … because it’s sooooo campy.