The Douchebag Bible (70 page)

mind.

“God!” Is it just something to scream when

we’re mad or when we’re cumming? Is he just

someone to thank before every meal? Is she our

mother earth, forests sewn into her skin like hairs

and rivers covering her body like veins?

What is God? Maybe God is an if. If we don’t

know the answer, then the answer is God. If God

makes us feel good, then God is real. If all my

friends believe that there is a God, then there is a

god.

Maybe God is a contingency plan; an ejector

seat when reality becomes too difficult. Some say

that God is manifest in the splendor of the universe.

Why then is he not manifest in the squalor of the

universe?

We say “God damn it!” when we stub our toe,

as if God will hear us and smite the table that we

stubbed it on. We say, “God willing,” when we hope

that God will intercede on the behalf of our cause.

We say “God bless you,” when someone sneezes,

because apparently God cares a lot about the rapid

expulsion of mucus from your nostrils. We say,

“God help us,” when doom approaches. We say, “Oh

my God,” when exasperation overtakes us. We say,

“Why, God?” when malady afflicts us. We say, “God

works in mysterious ways” when what we really

mean is that the universe acts in random and

callous ways. We say, “God bless America,” or “God

save the Queen,” or something similar to express

our loyalty towards whatever government power

lords over our lives. We say, “God is watching,” to

instill fear. We say, “God is good,” as if to convince

ourselves that this is true. We call the righteous men,

“God-fearing.”

Fearing God is righteous? “God-loving” is not

a term that has yet entered the common vernacular,

though God is sometimes referred to as a “Loving

God.”

We say, “In God we trust,” but if that were true,

then what use would we have for all these tanks and

missiles. We say, “God helps those who help

themselves.” But those who help themselves don’t

need God’s help.

What is God? Is God an X. A variable? A place

marker?

God is that which we need God to be. A despot

one moment, a redeemer the next. One who will

love you, but send your enemies to roast in flames.

One who is so great that he created the universe, yet

so petty that he persecutes the homosexuals. One

who explains everything that isn’t explained, until

someone else explains it.

Believers, I ask: is God you? Is God your

biases? Is God your judgments? Is God your ego?

Let’s cut to the chase: Are you God?

When you say, “God damn this chair!” aren’t

you really the one damning the chair? When you

say, “God Bless America!” aren’t you really

expressing your own love for America. When you

say, “God doesn’t approve of the sinners,” aren’t

you really saying that you don’t approve of

someone, and so you’ve slapped the sinner label

onto them?

When football players thank God for victory,

aren’t they really saying, “Thank God for making

me so great.”? Isn’t God a crutch, not just for your

life, but for your ego?

Without God, would your perception of the

world collapse? Or would it broaden beyond your

mind’s ability to comprehend?

What is God?

What is God?

I think, believers, that God is the opinions that

you can’t otherwise justify. God is your intellectual

laziness. God is your ego. God is that which you

need God to be. God is X. God is the sum of all your

willful ignorance. God is a convenience. God is a

social adhesive. God is exclusionary. God is your

bigotry. God is an excuse. God is your clever ploy to

avoid thinking, responsibility and the need to

develop a sense of social justice. God is your lie.

What is God?

God isn’t real.

My God is my world. My life. My friends. My family.

My time. My lifespan. The breath I draw is God. The

photons that hit my eyes are God. The neurons firing

in my head are God.

The world is bigger than I perceive it to be, but

my world is exactly as big as I perceive it to be,

because my perception controls its size. That's how

I found a measure of happiness is a world infested

by

drones,

conformity-enforcers,

pseudo-

spiritualists and other assorted phonies.

Do I have hope? Or have I abandoned the

notion? So I believe, as my friend Galen believes,

that hope is the last act of a desperate man? Do I

echo my hero, George Carlin, when he proclaims

that his motto is “FUCK HOPE”?

My attitude towards hope at this point is that if

hope helps you, then have hope. If it does you no

good, then don't have it. Personally, I don't care

about it. I have personal ambitions that I obviously

hope are fulfilled, but I have no particular hope for

the human race or for our society or any other

society, be it in the future or on another planet or