The Dorkins Cometh

This post dates back several years, but the current barrage of TV Dorkins has led me to re-post.



Richard Dawkins. What a guy.

You know, I read some of his early works (Blind Watchmaker, for instance) with genuine pleasure and a real sense of awe. He made me think. And mostly, what I thought was, 'Oh, yeah! Of course!'. He even helped me through an ecology course, in a third-hand kind of way.

Ever since then, he's been becoming an angry, unlanceable boil on my bum, to the extent that I think he's now generating real hatred in me. Or maybe just a lot of pus. (Did I ever tell you about my blocked sweat gland? Oh boy.)

Basically, he's turned into anti-spiritual fascist.

He commands us to abandon our foolish ways, and overturns the market stalls of the credulous. He wishes us to turn the other cheek to the matter of the meaning of life, for there is none. There is no God, no spirit, no afterlife. Just us, our genes, and a planet. Believe in me, he says, and you shall believe in science, and if you do that, you shall be happy for all your days in the full and certain knowledge that your life is utterly meaningless outside of what you make of it.

He might be right, but you know what? Try it. I dare you.

Try not believing in anything, deliberately. For evermore.

You know what happens? You go bonkers, that's what. And how do I know? Because I'm a depressive with an ancient history. I've spent some 30 years denying the existence of any God, and I can tell you from the heart that it is a truly painful and nasty experience.

You know why Dawkins isn't hurting? Because he's got religion.

Believe in me, sayeth the Dawkins....