I find theism distateful.
Hell doesn't scare me. Heaven doesn't entice me. You'll not lure me away from my natural temptation and it's over my dead body that I'll trade my Sunday mornings and free will for a silly little bribe of cake and cookies after I inevitably rot away. I don't pretend to know all there is to know about the universe. I also don't speak semi-intellectual, confused fourteen year-old jargon out of my ass while professing to be a young, philisophical expert on not only the detailed hypocrisy of the masses but the "scientifically enlightened" doctrines entailed by modern metaphysics and lofty (not to mention even more vague than Christian) mysticism. Not anymore. But I'm not submissive in my iron surity and I don't buy it. I don't need to. I'm fine on my own, without sharing my violently apocolyptic and ridiculously guilty self-hatred with anyone else, and the fact that there will never be the crushing doubt and fear that accompanies the loss of blind faith and the acquisition of pure reason is where I triumph.
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