Flogging a Dead Horse

If there are two things that are outdated, outlandish and oversold, not to mention at a rip-off price, they are Religion and religious people. And as Xmas appears once again, we’ll get an extra dose of these unfortunates; clearly undaunted by spectacularly failing their sell-a-lemon course; at it once more giving away spiritualised drivel about a Palestinian baby who has been raised from the dead or some-such nonsense. But this horse has not only bolted, it is long-deceased, rotting and buried, only to be dug up again and flogged once more, as a kind of annual pre-medieval exercise in wish-fulfilment; discredited fundamentalism über-unworthy of our enlightened ear-time. The mind virus of ‘faith’, an inherently incoherent concept and unfortunate side-step on the road to progress, has been eradicated in all but the stupidest enclaves.

Can I hear an AMEN from the lecture theatre?

WHAAAT? Did I hear a quiet nay-sayer? Just some arrogant little jerk with glasses. But, what - the – hell; is that A.N. Wilson standing over there with those dumbasses; wasn’t he meant to be one of us? And Anthony Flew cheering them on and calling us names that we thought we’d reserved for them? These freaks have gone and stolen some of our rock bands, our stunt-people, our writers, our actors, our philosophers – but surely, not our, our… not our scientists?