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musings of a subhuman
The Amazing Atheist

The Amazing Atheist

musings of a subhuman

Written By:
The Amazing Atheist
Illustrated By
The Scum of the Earth
The Amazing Atheist

Table of Contents

Foreword by Fakesagan………………………………………………….………….8
A Brief Letter To My Fans……………………………………………….…..…….12

RELIGION ………………………………………………………………………..……17

EDUCATION …………………………………………………………………………..45



The Amazing Atheist

The God(dess) speaks


The Final Musing

The Amazing Atheist

This work is dedicated to FakeSagan/Hardcase, for being exactly like
me and yet my complete opposite (and for amusing me with his
frequent death threats).

It is also dedicated to Britt Marble—
the only person who has ever met me.


Apart from those two brilliant souls, I’d like to thank a number of those who
have shaped me into what I am (for better or for worse):

x Mom, for trying to understand.
x Dad, for supporting my lazy ass.
x Scotty, for being my best friend.
x Stevie, for loving me more than I deserve.
x Cookie, for making me laugh.
x Sheri, for allowing my penis inside her on a few
x Steve, for trying his best.
x JD, for being wise in his insanity.
x Nick, for making my childhood interesting.
x Natalie, for thinking of others before herself.
x Zac, for his inspiring paintings.
x Cody, for his beautiful photography.
x Nate, for his tireless cruelty.
x Mr. Taylor, for being the biggest asshole I ever met.
x Jesse, for being the first person I ever trusted.

Thank you all.

This is where you’d normally find copyright information, but I’m too fucking
lazy to bother with all that jazz—and with the advent of the internet, it would
be too much of a pain in the ass to try to stop you from swiping this shit and
reusing it anyway. I’ll just ask really politely that you not do so and hope that
that’s enough.

The Amazing Atheist

The Amazing Atheist

By Fakesagan/Hardcase
Yes, I know. You paid the ticket price to read The Amazing
Atheist, not fakesagan. In all honesty, I think The Amazing
Atheist should've paid you to read this book because of all the
money he's saving on therapy. In any case, don’t worry. I've
never been a fan of lengthy forewords, so I'll keep this one brief.
Whenever my thoughts turn to The Amazing Atheist, a
quote of Dr. Johnson's (which is more commonly attributed to
the great Hunter S. Thompson) springs instantly to mind:

”He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of
being a man”
-Samuel Johnson

In spite of his eternal refrain of "I don’t give a shit," I can
see in The Amazing Atheist someone who has been acutely
incapable of getting rid of the pain of being a man, and has made
himself ever more beastly because of it.
I was once asked if I could account for The Amazing
Atheist's popularity, and in my stumbling attempt, I merely
cited his candor. Public admissions of ephebophiliac urges,
bizarre sexual submission fetishes and wild, incendiary vitriol
towards all manner of groups and individuals are all behaviors
which make the average person uncomfortable—yet we crave
them. We salivate like hungry beggars for the table scraps of
honesty which The Amazing Atheist flings about so
The Amazing Atheist

unabashedly. We crave this intimacy with another's mind so
badly because we are starving—deprived, in our alienated and
image-conscious modern society, of the precious glimpses into
the true thoughts and feelings of another human being which
remind us that we are not alone. Like all great artists, The
Amazing Atheist stands naked on the stage.
But The Amazing Atheist's candor accounts for only half
of his popularity. He is also an altruist whose heart bleeds pure
compassion. I can already hear you laughing. Shut the fuck up.
I've often thought of The Amazing Atheist as one of the
most profoundly misunderstood individuals it's ever been my
pleasure to come across. His true thoughts and inward
motivations seem so glaringly obvious to me that I derive no end
of amusement from the seeming inability of everyone else on the
planet earth to recognize them. Shall I provide an example
directly from the pages of this very book?
In “Rape Survivor Chatroom Survivor,” The Amazing
Atheist initially strikes us as an unfathomably cold and
insensitive monster. But when we pierce beneath the surface,
what we discover is an infinite well of compassion and concern
for the rape victims he first appeared to be sadistically
ridiculing. The Amazing Atheist demands of said victims, "how
many failed relationships are you going to blame on a single
violation of your personal space?" it is clear (to me anyway) that
he's horrified by the perpetual cycles of emotional distress, guilt
and interpersonal estrangement which can result from a single,
callous act of violation. And, being the lunatic pragmatist that

The Amazing Atheist

he is, he's more than willing to scandalize and shock us numb in
order to help even one victim break that cycle. The Amazing
Atheist is not content to coddle our delicate sensibilities or
preconceived notions of the sort of polite decorum which must be
maintained when handling rape victims. He has watched in
impotent dismay as therapy, support groups, and rape-specific
chatrooms fail miserably to rid the victims in question of their
feelings of powerlessness and worthlessness and he's ready to
try more drastic methods which may be akin to what is known
as "tough love." He's willing to make himself the focal point of
our resentment so long as it empowers us to examine our own
lives and begin healing ourselves. The Amazing Atheist is a
modern shaman.
So, what should you, the reader, expect when you finish
this foreword and begin the first chapter? Well, you should
expect a book which reads like a transcript of one of The
Amazing Atheist's youtube videos. If you enjoy his videos, you'll
certainly enjoy his book. If you don’t enjoy his videos, this may
not be the book for you. However, that shouldn’t stop you from
pretending to read it at work or in a public park in the vain hope
that someone may notice and, having been so impressed by your
literacy, start up a conversation with you. Then you and your
new friend will fall in love, have children and live happily ever
after—all because of this book. That's really how life works. The
meek and timid are rewarded by fortune everyday. Just sit
silent, pay your taxes, and keep hoping. Eventually all of your
dreams will come true.

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The Amazing Atheist

As for my part I will say that, besides the solemn honor
which I feel in having been chosen to introduce The Amazing
Atheist's first foray into the literary world, the best part of
writing this foreword was having received an advance copy of
the manuscript on which to base it. Well . . . at least that's what
I told The Amazing Atheist—that I needed to read the book first
in order to do my foreword justice. In truth, I could've simply
bullshitted my entire way through this little introduction the
same way I do through life, but I wanted the smug satisfaction of
knowing that I could get my hot little hands on what all of The
Amazing Atheist's rabid fans have been drooling for prior to the
official release date.
I'm not one for spoilers so all I’ll tell you is that this book
has it all. The Amazing Atheist has splattered his tortured
psyche onto it's pages with all the maniacal glee that he does in
his videos. The writing is irreverent, profane, hilarious,
insightful and, at times, heartbreaking. And, whether you're an
admirer or a hater, you are sure to benefit from this unique
opportunity to glimpse the fantastically fractured inner
workings of a mind so unique. So let us waste no further time
and dig right in because you, The Amazing Atheist and I shall,
all three of us, be dead and gone before we know it.
amacing athiest u fucken rock!

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The Amazing Atheist

“You know, I thought you were a decent guy until [you insulted
me]; now I know you’re no different than the dickheads you
rant about. Hell, if you’re like this to someone whose nice to
you, I don’t want to know what you’re like to your haters.”
-rdawkinsbulldog, youtube user

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The Amazing Atheist

It’s fairly safe to say that I’m an asshole.
I make no secret of my petty and spiteful nature, nor do I
feel any inclination to improve my personality in the near future.
In this age, whether you’re a famous movie star with millions of
fans, or just some guy who rants on youtube for an audience of a
few thousand, people build illusions of you in their minds,
convince themselves that they know and understand you; worse,
they come around to the belief that, because they are supportive
of the work you produce, you are in some way obligated to them.
I owe you nothing. You don’t watch my videos out of some
sense of charity—you watch them to be amused, enlightened or
perhaps even just to mock me. Even now, I owe you nothing.
“But I bought your book!” you protest in your nasally whine,
tears oozing from the dull cattle-like orbs of your eyes. Yes, you
gave me money and, in return, I gave you a book. Transaction
Feel free to send me anything you like: your “constructive
criticisms”, lengthy letters about your personal problems, your
poetry, your artwork—whatever. Send me these things until you
cum from the sheer joy of it, but do not expect me to care or to
respond. Sometimes I will, and other times I won’t. It depends on
my mood.
Now, if you happen to be an attractive female who wishes
to pose naked for me, I want you to know that my inbox is
always wide open to receive any number of pictures you may
choose to fill it with. This is not at all contingent upon my

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The Amazing Atheist

mood—I’ve never in my life not been in the mood to see a nice set
of tits or a cute ass.
And guys, it’s okay to take pictures of your girlfriend
while she sleeps and send them to me as well. I don’t mind at all.
No matter how busy my schedule becomes, you have my solemn
vow that I will make time to view photos of your sleeping,
unsuspecting girlfriend who has no idea what a scumbag her
boyfriend happens to be.
In fact, it doesn’t even have to be your girlfriend. If you’ve
got a sister or a mom or a neighbor that you want to send me
pictures of, that’s all good too.
For that matter, the pictures don’t even have to be of
girls. A lot of guys these days are pretty effeminate. If I take my
glasses off, I can’t even tell the difference.
I’m really not picky. I mean, if you could just send me
close up pictures of your knees pressed together to kind of look
like an ass, I can work with that. I’m the MacGuyver of jerking
off to things. Give me a flashlight, some yarn, a box of raisins
and a tongue depressor and I’ll figure out a way to fap to it.
For instance, remember that time we went Tijuana and
saw the donkey show? I mean, I knew that chick was going to
blow the Donkey, but I didn’t know she was actually going to let
it stick it’s spongy, half-formed-looking phallus inside her
asshole! Remember how afterwards she blasted shit and donkey
cum halfway across the bar from her gaping sphincter and a big
chunk of her corn-laden scat flew into your open mouth and you
puked all over the guy next to you, causing half the bar to start

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The Amazing Atheist

fighting and the other half to start puking and before we knew it
the whole floor was carpeted with puke and cum and shit and
blood? I still managed to rub one out that night! I tell you. . . .
Wait. You’re not the one that went with me to Tijuana,
are you? Shit.

The Amazing Atheist,
July 29th, 2007

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The Amazing Atheist

Wherein I bitch about your gods.

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The Amazing Atheist

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The Amazing Atheist

I’m often asked, mostly by the pious, what happened to me to
make me despise religion so much. It’s difficult—perhaps
impossible—for them to conceive of the notion that I simply don’t
care for their teachings. How much irrational bullshit can a
human being who doesn’t measure himself as the sum of his own
obedience stomach in the name of a faceless deity whose
existence has never been demonstrated to even the slightest
The theist line of “reasoning” goes a bit like this: 1.) The
creator is on our side because our book of absolute truth says so,
and we know our book is accurate because it says in our book of
absolute truth that our creator said that our book of absolute
truth is accurate. 2.) The creator is the only barometer of
morality in the universe. 3.) Even if you disagree with us, shut
your heathen mouth and follow our moral directives because
those who don’t believe in God have no right to criticize him or
his followers.
The third one is what really gets me. Theists act as if it is
the place of atheists to keep silent and let them believe what
they believe, entirely unimpeded. After all, religion is the source
of morality!
daughter die of cervical cancer because you were afraid that the
vaccine would make her promiscuous is immoral. Teaching kids
that condoms don’t work and that only abstinence will prevent
STDs (bad) and pregnancy (worse) is immoral. Suicide bombings
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The Amazing Atheist

are immoral. Tax exempt status for religious institutions with
massive political and social influence is immoral. Denying a
person medical treatment because your God doesn’t believe in
medicine is immoral. Bombing abortion clinics is immoral.
Putting religious laws in front of a courthouse where everyone is
supposed to be treated fairly is immoral. Telling people what
they can and cannot do with/to their own bodies is immoral.
Denying people of different sexual preferences the ability to
enter into the same social arrangements as everyone else is
immoral. Slavery is immoral. Going to the third world to
indoctrinate those living in abject poverty is immoral. Genocide
of those whose invisible cloud king wears a different set of
boxers than yours is immoral. Crashing aircraft into buildings
because your sexually repressed ass has been told that heaven is
swarming with cherry-intact cunt to fuck is immoral. The idea
that a woman is worth ½ of a man is immoral (it’s closer to
2/3rds). No tits on TV is, if not immoral, at least really fucking
Religion is where we get our morals from? Why then, at
the root of every inhuman act of cowardice and degradation do
we find a Bible or a Qu’ran? Why then, is the justification behind
the sum of all evils, when boiled down to the naked essentials,
“God said so”? Why then did the Nazi soldiers where the words
“Gott Mit Uns” (GOD WITH US) on their belt buckles as they
tossed Jews, gypsies and homosexuals into gas chambers to
writhe and scream and choke and gasp and die? These are
important questions, are they not?

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The Amazing Atheist

The perpetual inability of theists to satisfactorily answer
these and other important questions leads me to the conclusion
that a theist claiming that God is the source of all morality is
akin to a dictator telling you that a nuclear arsenal is the root of
all peace.
The next time a theist tells you that you are trying to
destroy morality, do not for a moment deny it! Instead, tell them
that if their idea of morality is the garbage found in their
religious texts, then you are proud to be among those working to
put an end to their morals. Inform them that you believe not in
God and his dark morality of guilt, suffering and repentance, but
in a human morality with the virtues of happiness, justice and
Then, for good measure, tell them to go fuck themselves.

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The Amazing Atheist

A friend and mentor once asked the people: is there such thing
as a dangerous idea?
My answer: Abso-fucking-lutely.
The idea that we were created by a supreme being who
can reward or punish our behavior as he sees fit and that we are
aware of his nature is a dangerous idea. Some would argue that
if we admit that Christianity and Islam are dangerous ideas,
then we have to admit that Greek mythology is a dangerous
idea, a notion that anyone would dismiss as patently absurd.
However, in the days when the stories of Zeus and his brood
were not taken as stories, but as true accounts of beings of
extraordinary power, those ideas were dangerous. The stories
aren’t dangerous today, simply because no one believes them.
A popular idea among religious apologists is that religion
is inherently good, but that evil men use it to evil means. They
look upon those piles of bodies that religion has left in its wake
and say, “Religion was twisted into this! That’s not what God is
supposed to be about! God is supposed to be about sunshine and
bumblebees and glitter and rainbows! My God would never do
this sort of thing!”
Forget about Lady MacBeth! These assholes think a weak
little chorus of “that’s not what I believe” is all that it takes to
get their hands clean. Sorry, you degenerate jerk-offs, you don’t
get off the hook that easy.
Belief in God has inarguably led to many times the
number of deaths that the atomic weapons dropped on
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The Amazing Atheist

Hiroshima and Nagasaki did, but can you imagine anyone
talking about atomic weapons the same way that they talk about
religion? “Well, in the right hands the bomb is a tool for peace
and love, it’s only when it’s misused that bad things happen.”
The truth is that religions, like those bombs, are only
good at creating carnage.
“But religion brings people together!”
Yeah. So what? The Ku Klux Klan brings people together
too. That doesn’t make it a great, morally upstanding
organization. NAMBLA brings people together, doesn’t it? Let
them have a few kids! What the big deal? New studies show that
most 6-year-olds like a dick in their ass!
As far as I’m concerned, people are better off apart.
Togetherness is vastly overrated. The next time you hear
togetherness extolled as a great virtue, gently remind the person
blathering that nonsense that they are a filthy communist and
that, as of yet, no single person acting on their own has ever
committed genocide, unless you count Gargamel’s efforts to wipe
out the Smurfs.
“But religion gives money to charity!”
Poor people need food, clothing and shelter—not bibles.
One thing is for sure to anyone who has ever seen the inside of
Mother (Fucking) Teresa’s “Home For The Dying” in Calcutta—
the money wasn’t being used to help the sick. Maybe it went to
buying more statues for the pope’s house over in Rome.
Pat Robertson collects sports cars.
Jerry Falwell died a rich man.

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The Amazing Atheist

Church charity is not charity, unless you consider the
man at the pulpit with the huge hardon for the boys in the choir
to be “needy.” The only this he really needs is a prison
sentence—not for raping the boys, mind you. That’s the least of
his crimes. He should be arrested for exploiting the terminally
“But . . .”
But nothing. Fuck off.

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The Amazing Atheist

According to the Bible, God created the Earth in six days. The
seventh day doesn’t count—all he did was rest. Do you get paid
for the days your spend at the bordello? No? Then why does God
get credit for lazing about on his almighty cosmic ass? Fuck that.
It took six days.
According to calculations by Charles Lineweaver and
Daniel Grether at the University of New South Wales there are
about 100 billion stars with planets in our Galaxy. That means
that, with 100 billion galaxies in the known universe, there are
at least 10 trillion planets out there.
Do you see where I’m going with this?
How did a God who took six days to create our pathetic
little planet do the same trick 10 trillion times since then? It
would have taken God 60 trillion days to create every planet in
the universe. That’s 164,383,561,643 years of worth work, give
or take a few months.
From the genealogies found in the Bible, Christian
‘scholars’ have deduced that the Earth is between six and ten-
thousand years old.
“Well,” says the ever crafty fundie, “maybe God created
those other planets first, to prepare the universe for us!”
Nice try, christsucker.

“In the beginning God created the Heaven and the
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The Amazing Atheist

Genesis 1:1

“That doesn’t prove anything!” further protests our missing link
between man and tree stump, “It says he created the heaven
first. The heaven could include those planets.”
Heaven is a place of unending bliss, remember? If those
planets were part of God’s heaven, then going to Heaven would
be as easy as building the USS Enterprise.
“Translation error!”
But . . .
Ah, translation errors—the last refuge of a thoroughly
defeated Christian. When you hear the words “translation
error,” pat yourself on the back. You’ve just won. Every
argument with a fundamentalist Christian goes through six
basic steps.

1. Atheist challenges scripture.

2. Theist defends scripture.

3. Atheist refutes defense.

4. Theist makes statement about the glory of Christ
and his dying for our sins.

5. Atheist continues to press original issue.

6. Theist claims a translation error.

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The Amazing Atheist

I don’t recommend pressing the issue beyond step six for a
reason that is exactly one word long: Salem. Don’t think they’d
hesitate to kill you. These are the same people who still support
Bush and the war in Iraq. They have no moral qualms about
purging the world of sinners.
In fact, they have no morals at all.
Nothing bears this out better than the psychological, and,
in many cases, physical torture that they inflict upon their own
children. Let me ask you a question (You can’t answer or argue!
God, I love this medium!): Why the fuck is it legal to tell toddlers
that they could go to Hell?
Don’t get me wrong. There exist few bigger freedom fans
than me. The first amendment to the constitution guarantees all
people in the United States freedom of religion, without
government interference. To my way of thinking, passing a law
against teaching your children about your religion is
unconstitutional. Even setting the constitution aside, there is a
limit to how much I am willing to meddle with the upbringing of
any child. Most child-rearing decisions belong to parents, plain
and simple.
However, children are not property. They are human
beings who should be extended a certain degree of individual
rights. Modern society does not allow parents to beat their
children, despite the bible’s endorsement of corporal
punishment. While I don’t necessarily agree that all spanking
should be illegal, I think that the vast majority of people would
agree that there is a line that should not be crossed. Parents do

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not have to right to mangle their children’s bottoms (or any other
part of them), regardless of what their holy texts might say
about it. The action of beating one’s children is illegal. Doing it
in the name of God is no less illegal.
Now imagine the psychological abuse of being taught
from an age, before your reasoning faculties are developed, that
if you do not obey the doctrines of a religion that you have no
hope of understanding, you will burn in a pit of unfathomable
torment where demons will gnaw at every centimeter of your
flesh and the unimaginable heat of fire too hot to comprehend
will drag multi-pronged dagger-tongues across your soul until
the end of time. I see that as being worse than a beating in the
long run. You might as well just hand the kid a rifle and point
him to the nearest bell tower.
So, why do we allow it? I can’t think of a good reason.
We’d never allow a parent to tell their child, “If you don’t obey
me, I will pull out all of your teeth with an old pair of pliers and
fuck your mouth!” so why do we allow, “If you don’t obey God
(me), you’ll go to a land of eternal torment to writhe in agony for
infinities upon infinities!”
If you remove the sacred cow status of religion for a
moment and look at the situation objectively, I’m sure you won’t
be able to answer the following question very easily.

Who does more damage to a child: a one-time rapist or a
parent who teaches them that if they’re not good they’ll
burn in hell forever?

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The Amazing Atheist

Whatever your answer, I’m willing to bet that you actually had
to stop to think about it.

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The Amazing Atheist


MuhammadFaysalNawa, Youtube User
(abysmal spelling and punctuation has been corrected)

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“FUCK YOU, racist fucking kafir! I wish I could chop
your fucking head off you fat fuck! Islam OWNS YOU,

islamistic123, Youtube User
(abysmal spelling and punctuation has been corrected)

“Hey, man, why you are insulting Islam? This is a very big
thing! You had better back off these shitty things or you
are a dead man, I swear to God.”

karimsaber123 , Youtube User
(abysmal spelling and punctuation has been corrected)

The religion that talks the most about forgiveness is the most
unforgiving, so it should come as no shock to anyone that the one
that talks the most about peace is the most violent.
I’ve spent a good chunk of my life mocking Christianity
and only the last few months expanding my interests to Islam as
well. I’ve received more death threats from those Muslims in the
last few months than I have from Christians in the last 10 years.
Honestly, violence doesn’t bother me much. If someone
wants to punch me in the teeth for pissing all over their notions
of how the world works, I consider that a work hazard. I know
full well that if I poke a few hornets nests, I’m going to get stung
every now and then. I’ll even have a beer with the asshole that
did it later (and draw penises on him when he passes out),
because I’m a good sport.
But I don’t think I should have to worry about the
proximity of my head to my body just because I like to create
insulting depictions of the “prophet” Muhammad.

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The Amazing Atheist

My head and my neck are good friends. I even like to
think of them as inseparable. I hope some proponents of the
religion of peace don’t prove that assumption false.

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I once remarked that converting a Christian to atheism is like
changing the label on a jar of pickled dog turds. I stand by that
Many Atheists give oblivious credence to the notion that
an imbecilic theist will, once converted to atheism, transform
into the most brilliant of brights, the most spectacular of
secularists, the apotheosis of atheistic intellectual integrity—
and other such corny alliterations. The sad truth is that a shit-
for-brains who thinks that Papa Smurf in the sky is watching
his every move with unwavering concern will, if converted (or
deconverted, if you prefer) to atheism, become a shit-for-brains
who thinks that books are a nifty decoration. You’ll not improve
such a person—if anything, you’ll make him worse.
Consider, for a moment, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold,
the shooters at Columbine High School. They were as atheistic
as I am, but they embraced the dogmatism of the thoroughly
debunked idea of Social Darwinism (which should rightly be
called Social Spencerism). They managed to convince themselves
that their shootings were, in some way, natural selection. If
they’d been Christians, they might have killed for Jesus.
Instead, they were Atheists, and they killed for Nietzsche and
Darwin. That’s not progress by any definition of the word that I
would embrace.
I WARN YOU FURTHER: In an atheist world, atheism
will no longer be a badge of intellectual prowess. Those of you
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who revel in your elitism now may well find yourself clutching at
straws to justify your worth in the secular utopia of your fondest
And who will we do intellectual battle with? Each other? I
know we say that we want a challenge, but is it really what we
desire? In your little black hearts can’t you admit, if only to
yourselves, that it’s a lot more fun using your vast intellect to
anally rape the cognitively deficient than it is rationally
discussing ideas with your equals?
I suppose we can always argue with the Social
Darwinists—but as far as pseudo-sciences created solely to
justify the actions of the powerful against the powerless go,
intelligent design will never be topped. It will always hold that
special place in our hearts, won’t it? Won’t you look back on the
pwnage of those imbeciles and smile? I know I will.
I imagine myself in the old atheist’s home, sitting in my
rocking chair, being blown by holographic teenagers while robot
nurses pump apple-sauce down my throat through little gray
tubes. Atop my nightstand I’ll have a little scrapbook of all the
believers I ever crushed in one-sided, totally unfair debates. I’ll
look at their pictures and I’ll laugh myself to sleep each night,
but inside I’ll be crying.
Without religion, there is no religion to destroy. Our
victory is our defeat.

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deer satan,
we lernt in sundae scool that u r evul. why come r u evul?


Dear Billy,
What the fuck is a sundae school? Do they teach you to make
sundaes there? Are you going to attend Baskin-Robbins Tech
when you grow up?
Seriously, I’m glad your being instructed in how “evul” I
am—but maybe your parents should spend a little less time
pumping your head full of that stupid nonsense and a little more
time teaching you how to spell. I’m almost surprised that you
managed your own name.
To answer your question, I’m evil because all the good
guys like your Sunday school teacher are dicks who indoctrinate
children to ensure that their collection plates stay full well into
the next generation.

Your Pal In Hell,


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Dear Satan,
I don’t get it. If you’re in charge of Hell and you want
people to sin, then why is Hell a place of torment?


Dear Susanne,
If you can answer that question than you’re a lot smarter than I
am. I don’t know why I would torture those who take my side in
the war against God. The more I sit here and ponder it, the less
sense it makes. Why would I incentivise people to turn to God
and away from me? It seems like I’d be doing much better
business if I made Hell a little bit more appealing. It’s a little bit
embarrassing that a child had to point it out to me, but thanks
for doing so. I promise that by the time you get here (you know a
girl as analytical as you is going to wind up a Godless atheist
heathen) things will be much nicer.

Your Friend at the End,


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The Amazing Atheist

dear Stan,
YOU are so Stupit to b against god. He will kick you
BUTT when the day of Judgmint cames. My mom sed so.


Dear Jed,
Ritalin. You need it.
First of all, my name is Satan, not Stan. Well, actually,
my full name is Beelzebub Lucifer Satanson, but everyone calls
me Satan for short.
Second of all, God is all-powerful. I can’t possibly be
against God unless that’s what he wills me to do. Why would
God be so cruel as to force me to suffer just to have the universe
a certain way, you might ask if you were smarter—the answer
eludes me. Ever consider the notion that maybe I’m not really
the one on the evil end of this whole good/evil spectrum?
Third of all, are you taking spelling lessons from Billy?
Judgmint? Sounds like something they put on your pillow in
Your Source Of Laughter In The Ever After,


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The Amazing Atheist

Dear Satan,
Your horns are cool. Why do you have a pitchfork? Is
there hay in hell? I thought you were cool in that stupid
Tom Cruise movie where you steal that unicorn’s horn.
Your horns are cooler than a unicorn’s horn anyway.

Your Fan,

P.S. I like to light things on fire. Is that cool?

Dear Jonathan,
Thank you. I get far too few compliments on my appearance.

The Big Red Guy With A Flame In His Eye,

P.S. Fuck yeah.


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The Amazing Atheist

Dear Satan,
I just don’t see how any of it can be true. You, God,
angels, talking snakes, people turning into pillars of
salt—I’ve tried and I’ve tried, but I just can’t believe it.
God doesn’t answer my letters, so I’m trying you as a
second resort.


Dear Chris,
If I didn’t exist, then you’d have to accept that the bad things in
the world are not the fault of an all-malevolent being and that
all the good things can’t be credited to an all-benevolent one. Are
you really willing to accept that? If you are, then these words
that you think I’m speaking to you know should suddenly just
vanish into thin. . . .

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The Amazing Atheist

Christian moms and dads, how can you be so cruel?
I’ve read the letters of your children, you know. They
write to me. They trust me, because they can see that I’m not
going to hate them for some petty difference.
Boys and girls—13, 14, 15, 16 years old. Old enough to
see through your shit, too young to not need your guidance and
approval. They can’t get it from you. They look at you and see
nothing but judgment and tenuous love. Conditional love.
How can I receive letters from teenage girls who don’t
want to be disowned for being atheists without wanting you
dead? How many letters can I read from kids who are gay in
religious households where fags are sinners who go to the
deepest and hottest part of Hell without wishing that each and
every last one of you would just do the world a favor and die?
How many kids have to wind up with slit wrists so that you can
have your grotesque death symbol cross plastered to the back of
your Earth-raping SUV? How many lives have to be prematurely
squandered before the people realize that what’s really going on
here is nothing short of a holocaust?
You’re killing your own offspring. You’re not putting the
guns to their heads yourself, but you’re as guilty of their deaths
as if you had.
So I have to do what you won’t and can’t. I have to do the
job no one else will do and give these kids some glimmer of hope.
I have to make them realize that you’re not worth spilling tears
(or blood) over. I have to teach them to hate you.
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The Amazing Atheist

So, when the day comes—and it will come—when you
find yourself saying that I turned your children against you,
know that I will not deny it. I will admit it with the greatest
pride that I have ever known.
Your kids will stand taller than you ever stood and they
will burn your book and spit on the ashes. They will fuck who
they want, take whatever drugs they want, dress how they want,
listen to whatever music they want, and more importantly they
will love who they want—and it won’t be you.

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The Amazing Atheist

This argument isn’t going to deconvert anyone, but it’s fun to use
just to watch fundie faces get red:

YOU: Does God have to follow the ten commandments?
FUNDIE: No. Those are rules laid out for man.
So God is allowed to sin?
It’s not sinning when God does it. He’s above those laws.
So God could be a homosexual then.
Well, you said that God is above the laws of man, so even though
he forbids homosexuality, he can still indulge in it if he so
POSSIBLE RESPONSE #1: Well, I guess so . . .
COUNTER: [None needed. You’ve won.]
POSSIBLE RESPONSE #2: God has no sexuality.
COUNTER: But God made us in his image. Are you saying he
has reproductive organs but no use for them?
POSSIBLE RESPONSE #3: God has no gender, and
therefore no sexuality.
COUNTER: The bible never makes any reference to God’s
androgyny. It clearly categorizes him as male.
COUNTER: [“resort” to violence]

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The Amazing Atheist

x Why does God desire the affection of vastly inferior
beings like us? It’s like if you or me demanding to be
praised and glorified by ants.

x If God knows who’s going to Heaven and who’s going to
Hell, then what’s the point of all this?

x If Heaven is so great, why did Satan and a third of the
angels rebel against God?

x If God puts us here on Earth to test us, why does he
make the test unfair? A test only makes sense if everyone
is given the same test, but every human being is given
totally different trials and tribulations. Some people who
are Christians who will be saved by God would be
Muslims damned to hell if they’d simply been born in a
different geographic region.

x What does your personal comfort have to do with
objective truth?

x How big is God’s dick? (You have to ask this one
seriously, demanding an answer as if it were of vital

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The Amazing Atheist

Wherein I teach your dumb ass a thing or two
about how shit works.

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The Amazing Atheist

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The Amazing Atheist

I am vulgar. I think bad thoughts and more often then not I shit
them forth from my mouth with all the enthusiasm of an
overpaid whore on ecstasy. What's worse, I usually say them
when in mixed company, or when speaking to one with fragile
ears, and a frail mind in between them.
Jaws drop and gasps resound. "Did he really just say
what I think he did?" You're damn right he did. And do you
know what? He enjoyed it too. It's how I maintain my sanity,
and now, with my help, you too can improve the quality of your
life by being a dirty foul-mouthed bastard.
"How can being grossly offensive improve my life,
Amazing Atheist?"
God you people ask some dumb fucking questions.
Observe my ingenious equation below.

People + Life = /

Life – People = -

And how do you get rid of people? You can stick dynamite in
their asses and paint the walls with their insides . . . which is
effective, but illegal and costly.
You can poison their coffee, but it tends to be slow—and
problematic if they drink tea or water or cat piss.

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The Amazing Atheist

The best solution to your people problem is to make your
company utterly un-enjoyable by totally offending anyone foolish
enough to seek your conversation.
"How do I accomplish this feat, Amazing Atheist? I am not
clever and witty like you."
I know. Don't fret. I'm here to help. There are four basic
methods of fucking with peoples stupid heads.

1. The Grumbling Prick Method
2. The "My Life is Shit" Method.
3. The Polite Asshole Method
4. The Amazing Atheist Method

This method is usually effective on those who want to ask for
favors or opinions, and best of all for you dumbfucks, it's so easy
that it doesn't even require any brain activity. Basically, you just

Victim: "Hey, AA, can I borrow some salmon?"

Me: "Grrrrrrr . . . Flippidyskittlefucker! YOU KNOW NOT MY

Victim: "What?"

Me: "Fraggenrippert shitterpickfork eat nachos in hellzzor!!!"

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The Amazing Atheist

Victim: "Uh. I'll come back later."

This is the favorite among whiney people, who, for the most part,
don't even understand that it repels people. Basically, when you
are approached by an undesirable, you start whining about
everything wrong in your life. If you have a relatively happy life,
just make some shit up. The more inane the shit you bitch about,
the better. If you bitch about valid things, then your misery is
likely to be compelling—which you don't want. For instance:

Victim: "Hi, TJ!"

Me (in depressed voice): "Hi."

Victim: "Something the matter? You sound down."

Now, this is where you hit them with it. Your response should be
inane and whiney. You don't want to compel them.

WRONG RESPONSE: "Oh. Nothing much. A serial killer
murdered everyone I loved and brutally raped me." That's sure
to lead to a lot of consolation that you don't want.

RIGHT RESPONSE: "Something the matter? No.
EVERYTHING is the matter. I've got a paper cut. My Coke is

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flat. My Toes hurt. My hands are kind of cold. And to top it all
off, people that I hate keep trying to talk to me."

This method requires more brains than the others, and is the
least effective in getting rid of people since many are too thick to
even know that they are being insulted. However, this is the best
method for those desiring a feeling of superiority to those that
they are insulting. You most commonly see this technique used
by people who want to insult people who are ridiculous, but have
a lot of authority.
Basically, you insult them subtly, and make it sound like
a compliment. A good sense of irony is needed for this one.

Victim: "Do you think that they will ever create a computer
with Artificial Intelligence?"

Me: I don't think a machine could function on your intellectual
level, sir.

Victim: Really?

Me: Oh yeah. A computer with a brain like yours wouldn’t know
what to do with itself.

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The Amazing Atheist

This is my favorite method, and not just because it's named after
me. I won't even bother explaining, because you'd never
understand, but I'll give you an example:

Victim: "Hi, TJ, do you want to go swimming?"

Me: "In your bloody remains maybe."

Victim: "Um . . . huh?"

Me: "Fuck you, you shriveled scrotum sack!"

Victim: "Hey! Fuck you, uh . . . asshole!"


Victim: "Eeeeeeek!" (faints.)

"Wow, Amazing Atheist, you sure are the greatest genius to ever
Yes. And you aren't even worthy of my great wisdom.
Anyhow, I'm off to drink the urine of 17 virgin cattle so that I
may unlock the secrets of the multiverse and all of its special
juicy cosmic-type powers.

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The Amazing Atheist

This is what writers do. They sit down and write. You don't need
a big vocabulary. Hell, you don't even have to have much of
anything to say. Most things, after all, will say themselves if you
let them.
Another thing to remember is that you have to write
what you feel; you'll never get anywhere if you write what you
think. That's probably why I'm struggling so much with this
medium. I'm not a very emotional person. Shit. If I even
unlocked the feelings that I know must be somewhere deep
inside me (probably near the crotch) I would be better than
Shakespeare. Well, not really. But I could be pretty goddamned

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good—better than any of these fucking monkeys that are writing
That's kind of funny. Isn't that how it always starts? You
look at the work of those who are getting paid for something and
realize, that's awful! I could do better than that! And that's when
the little light bulb manifests out of thin air right above your
head. You realize that you've just found your calling. Writing!
What could be better? You can remain as lazy as you ever were
and never have to go out doors. You can be as ugly as a festering
splatter of runny cat shit and still become an internationally
recognized celebrity with infinite wealth.
Well, actually, most writers make next to nothing and
have to hang on to their day jobs to pay the rent, but fuck those
guys! You aren't going to be one of those! You're going to be a
number one bestseller. Stephen King will beg to suck your dick
so that he may achieve an inkling of your tremendous talent by
stealing your semen and using it to make a clone of you so that
he can steal its inevitably brilliant ideas. You could write a book
about your right nut and sell more than J.K. Rowling. That is
the extent of your talent.
After having this epiphany, you rush home and break out
the old typewriter (PC's are for pussies). After you get the dust
out of every crevasse and yank the dead rat out of the roller,
you’re ready to begin work on your masterpiece. No ideas emerge
immediately. You give up and go to sleep saying that you'll try it
again tomorrow.

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The Amazing Atheist

The next day you sit, gazing madly at the blank sheet of
paper. After a few hours you type an ‘M.’ You stare it with the
attentiveness of a coked-out president peeking in at one of his
hot daughters showering through a cracked door (nothing
against "good ol' G Dubbya." I ain’t no terrorist-lover).
What the fuck is wrong with that fucking M? He’s just
sitting there, looking at you in his smug, smart-ass way. FUCK
HIM! You lift the typewriter up and toss it across the room right
into your TV set, smashing the screen to smithereens. That's
okay, you tell yourself, it is unbefitting a writer such as myself to
watch television anyway.
You decide that the typewriter approach is outdated. You
decide that you need to go buy a brand new PC. Unfortunately
you have no way to pay for it unless you take all the money out
the savings account that you've had since you were a little kid
and would sell your body to the local sex offender. That's okay
though, you're going to be a filthy stinking-ass rich writer soon.
You’ll show that fucking M! You’ll never put him in any of your
stories! There wont be any M’s in your stories! No sir!
On your way out the door your phone rings. You pick it
up. It's your boss wondering where you were all day. You tell
him to go fuck himself up the ass with a big, floppy, rubber dick.
You hang up the phone and giggle at your cleverness. You feel
better all ready.
A few hours later, you're back with your brand new,
deluxe, limited addition XK-33 with an Ultimum 666 processor
and a 22” flat-screen monitor. The side of the box reads, THE

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OFFICIAL COMPUTER OF SATAN. You smile and nod with
self-approval at you excellent purchase. You bring it into your
work room (formerly called the bathroom) and plug that bad boy
in. It explodes into flames and burns down your apartment
complex, killing two and injury twenty. You are badly burned,
but the paramedics tell you that your insurance has expired.
No biggie! The burns don't hurt that much, and you're
sure you can sleep at a friend’s house until you get back on your
feet. And tomorrow you can go back to that computer shop and
give them Hell! You hop in your car. It won't start. Who cares?
It’s a nice night for walking anyway.
After a few hours (during which you could not locate one
working payphone) you arrive at your friend’s apartment. He is
not home. You begin to feel a bit angry and decide to mutilate
the first person you see. You spot and old granny walking her
tiny poodle around the block. The bitch must die! You run after
her screaming obscenities at the top of your lungs. Her face
contorts in panic and she grabs a Glock .9mm out of her purse.
You scream, jump back and try to run, but granny isn't having
"Thought you could off me, huh? Ya sonuvabitch!" she
yells passionately, while unloading two bullets into you. You fall
to the ground and turn on your side. She uses this opportunity to
kick your nuts a few times. Then, as you clutch them in pain, her
dog mistakes your face for a fire-hydrant. After she leaves, you
lie there and pray for death. It doesn't come, but the police do.

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The Amazing Atheist

They arrest you, but it's not such a bad thing. At least
you'll get some medical attention, and you'll have plenty of time
to write in prison.

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The Amazing Atheist

Even though you will, over the course of my numerous lessons,
become much smarter than you are now, you'll still be fairly
stupid. Which is okay, since advancement in human society is
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based not on how intelligent you are, but how intelligent you can
seem to those handing out social promotions.
"I don't understand, Amazing Atheist! Blargh! Why come
is I be so dumb?"
It's okay. I'll simplify it for you:
You are stupid. The Amazing Atheist is smart. But if you
follow his instructions to a T you can at least seem smart to
others. Thus, your position in the social hierarchy will rise faster
than your dick at the sight of any sort of farm animal.

A timeless method for seeming smarter than you could ever hope
to be is to use incredibly complicated language to communicate
any task. For example:

Concise Language: "My friends and I will go to the store and
get some food."

'Genius' Language: "Presently, myself and some acquaintances
shall embark upon a journey to the local market in the pursuit of
reasonably priced sustenance to sate our appetites in the
immediate and for a period of days forthcoming.”

Sure, people won't understand what you're saying, but you'll
seem smart to them because you used lots of really big words.
This is because they, like you, are stupid and have no concept as
to what actually constitutes intelligence.

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The Amazing Atheist

Abraham Lincoln once said, "It is better to keep your mouth shut
and be thought a fool than to open it up and get your tongue
eaten by evil flies."
Or something along those lines.
Anyhow, the point is this: shut the fuck up. For some
reason, people who don't talk much are considered to be
intelligent. Perhaps because it is assumed that they are deep in
thought about physics or genetic enhancement of the male
sexual organ, or whatever it is that smart people think about.*

Smart people wear glasses. This is a well known fact among
anyone who watches TV. If a guy (or gal) wears glasses, let it be
known that they are probably capable of building atom bombs
using only duct tape and silly putty. If you already wear glasses,
great. If you don't, go get some. It is a good idea to get the ugliest
possible pair in the store since everyone knows that smart
people have no . . .

you shop at K-mart, where you will buy only the most repulsive
clothes that you can find. You need stuff that positively screams,

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trouble finding clothes that scream that, record it on a pocket
recorder and play it in a continuous loop everywhere you go.

Smart people do not laugh the same way, or at the same things,
that other people do. You must perfect a laugh that sounds
something like a bat getting butt-fucked by and elephant. This
will take time and practice, and I recommend that you allow
yourself to get butt-fucked by an elephant (just once) so that you
can get in the proper frame of mind. You don't have to, I
suppose. If you do, be sure to take pictures and send them to all
the members of your family as well as your classmates/co-
workers. Smart people are always doing eccentric things like
that, and you will notice a big change in the way people view
But, I digress.
Another important factor is what you laugh at. Things
that you find funny now, like Big Momma’s House 2, just aren't
gonna cut it in the intellectual community. Watch Monty Python
and just laugh every time it seems like there was a joke.
Eventually you will begin to think that you actually understand
the humor and will be able to pick up on smart people jokes in
the real world.
"But what happens when I have to tell a joke of my own,
Amazing Atheist? Won't it reveal to them my overwhelming

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The Amazing Atheist

Nah. Smart people are fairly slow to pick up on things
like that. Their minds are always analyzing things. If you tell a
joke that hints your stupidity, just laugh and say, "I don't know
what came over me. I apologize for my immaturity." Then start
bitching about Bill Gates, or an upcoming sci-fi or fantasy film.
This will divert their minds from your digression from
established intellectual standards of humor.

*For those of you wondering, the thing that smart people
actually do think about most is how unfair it is that they are
trapped on a planet full of imbeciles.

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The Amazing Atheist

(and why you shouldn’t even bother)
Becoming a popular YouTuber is a like winning a smallest dick
contest—you’re still a loser. Despite the completely apparent
truth of this statement, I still get a lot of emails from idiots too
stupid to know a waste of time when they see one asking me for
pointers on how they can become as popular on YouTube as I

I’ve never been able to follow this one personally, but people are
mindless fucking drones that like it when you reduce your
opinion to a series of soundbites. If you have the intellectual
integrity of a Paris Hilton song and are willing to simplify
complex issues into cute, clipped little aphorisms you’ll do well.

People love to watch a tantrum. Contort your face, flail your
arms and impotently hurl invectives at your chosen target—the
repressed folks at home will nod whether they really agree or
not. It’s not what you’re angry about—it’s just that you’re angry.

Everyone likes it when someone bashes the ever-loving shit out
of religion. This is because it’s the throwaway controversy of our
time. People watch it and pretend it’s edgy when in fact pretty
much everyone is doing it. Still, they never tire of their little
pageant of fake-ballsiness. If you tear God down (when people
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shoot fishes in barrels, they compare it to tearing down God), the
masses will build you up.

If you’re a girl, show them off. Guys don’t even give a fuck what
you say. You can have an IQ lower than your bust size and you’ll
still be called a genius by a number of horny would be dick-
donors. On the downside, sexually frustrated teenagers will call
you a slut for daring to have a cunt used for any other purpose
but to sheath their weapons of minor destruction—but that will
raise your position on the “most discussed” list, so I recommend
letting them.

People pretend not to like it, but people are liars. Everyone loves
a good pwnage match. But if you’re gonna do it, do it right. Hell,
you might as well pwn me. Here’s how:

You’ll make no progress simply calling me fat. If I were sensitive
about my weight, don’t you think I’d make a better attempt to
conceal it?
If you really want to get to me, point out words that I
mispronounced or logical fallacies within my arguments. If I
misspelled a word in my title or description, jump on it like
CapnOAwesome jumps on an opportunity to whore himself out

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for even the faintest possibility of a new subscriber. There’s
nothing I hate worse than feeling stupid.

I have plenty of contradictions from video to video. I leave them
up because I assume that no one will ever be anal retentive
enough to notice them. Prove me wrong. Find two clips of me
saying totally contradictory things and play them side by side to
make me look like a jackass who doesn’t know what he’s talking

People seem to adore pointing out my shortcomings rather than
arguing with my position. So, for my beloved collection of
invective-spewing haters, I submit this bullet-point list of some
of my failings.

x My oral hygiene is below average (above average in

x I neglect my toenails. They’re quite ugly.

x I pick my nose to an obscene amount and examine my
finds afterwards.

x I waft my own farts upwards so that I can catch their

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x I play with my balls for at least one hour each day.

x And smell my hands afterwards.

x I have masturbated to “The Simpsons.”

x My penis is small enough that any girl can stick the
whole thing in her mouth.

x I fantasize about being cooked alive by sexy female

x I masturbate to strap-on pornography.

x When I was 11, I shit in the cat litter box just to see
what it would feel like.

x My nose is covered in black heads that I’ve made no
attempt to treat.

x Because of my fair skin and massive fatness, I have
revolting stretch marks up and down both sides of my

x I have back hair.

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The Amazing Atheist

x I wear the same pair of jeans for weeks because I’m too
lazy to transfer my things from one pocket to the next.

x I think 14-year-old girls are hot. (Yeah, so does everyone
else, but I actually admit it)

x I keep arguing a point even after I’ve been proven wrong
because I’m too embarrassed to admit defeat.

UH . . .
Edit out your verbal auxiliaries. No one wants to, uhhhh, you
know, like, hear, ummmmmm, that, liiiiike, stuff, you know? I
personally don’t bother because I don’t give a fifth of a flying
fuck what people want or need from a video, but look at how well
Dendrophilian has done for himself simply removing all that shit
from his videos.

I’ve noticed that the people who put out weekly polished content
(PatCondell, Dendrophilian) amass subscriptions a fuck of a lot
faster that idiots like me who insist on putting out something
damn near every single day.

I’ll be honest with you—I think PatCondell is the most boring
PC representative of atheism possible. He’s every bit the
polished image that the vanilla YouTube Atheists want. He’s old,

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twinkly-eyed and full of that manufactured wit that only a
heavily rehearsed script can provide.
If you’ve got the dedication, you’re better off (in terms of
subscribers) drafting a script, memorizing it and reading it for
the camera with a big phony fucking smile on your sell-out lips.

It’s no secret that Supexcellency got his 1000+ subscribers by
burying his nose as far up my ass as he possibly could until I
became so flattered that I made him a shoutout video. His
subsequent rejection of all things me drove me to vow to the
moon and stars that I would never again allow an asskisser to
get close to me, nor would I ever again make a shoutout video for
even my closest YouTube pals like saturninefilms.

So, there you have it. That’s how it’s done.
All you have to do to become a YouTube star is lose all
sense of self and become as dishonest and fake as the
mainstream TV that YouTube is supposed to be an alternative

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Wherein I yammer on about the state of the world.

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According to the right, the world is about to end. We have sinned
against God and soon his judgment will be upon us and everyone
(except those brought up to Heaven in the rapture) will suffer
horribly. Liberal extremists will conquer the planet, gay orgies
will spread like wildfire, and abortions will become as
commonplace as brushing your teeth (this may be a bad example
for those of you living in Great Britain). The only answer is to
mandate prayer in schools, burn the Bill of Rights and, for the
love of all that is holy, stop teaching children that evolution
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According to the left, the world is about to end. We have
sinned against mother nature and soon the ice caps will melt
and everyone will suffer horribly. Greedy multi-national
corporations will conquer the planet until every last human
being on earth works for slave wages. The only answer is to stop
eating meat, drive hybrid cars and stop saying anything even
remotely offensive about anyone other than George W. Bush.
I have a question.
Doesn’t anyone else think that things are fine and that
we’re all being arrogant and reactionary? When the Earth starts
getting warmer, we say, “Must be something we did!” and ignore
any evidence to the contrary. It sounds right to the left on a
visceral level. We’re so important that it must be our fault! Look,
I’m the last person to argue with scientists, but climate science
is one of the trickiest branches there is. Meteorologists can’t
figure out the weekly forecast half the time, but Climatologists
are 100% certain that human CO2 levels are responsible for
global warming? From a purely common sense standpoint, it just
doesn’t sound very reasonable.
Climate scientists are quick to point out that the earth is,
“as hot as it’s been in 12,000 years,” but this planet is 4.5 billion
years old. If it was this hot as recently as 12,000 years ago, then
why is it so unusual that it’s this hot now? The fact is that, just a
million years ago, the Earth’s climate was completely different
than it is now. The sea level was 80 feet higher. The air was far
more humid and stifling. Imagine planet Louisiana. It got from

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there to here without our help. Why do we automatically assume
that it must be our fault that it’s going back again?
Sure, adjusting to a changing climate will suck, but that’s
what evolution is for—adapting. And if the planet becomes
uninhabitable, that would certainly suck but we’ve already got
caffeinated donuts and Die Hard 4 . . . I think it’s safe to say that
we’ve had a good run.
The conservative’s arguments for what’s wrong in the
world makes even less sense. At least liberals have the
scientific community behind their doomsday scenario. The
neocons have only got “biblical” evidence (read: jack shit).
And the conservative idea of hell on earth is rampant
alternative sex and drugs with no legal consequences
whatsoever. If this hell were ever realized, people like me would
find themselves in heaven.
Meanwhile, their idea of heaven—you know, clouds and
harps and all that jazz, er, gospel—is about the least appealing
thing in the world to anyone with half a brain and a set of balls
(don’t be offended ladies, the analogy could as easily be ‘and a
functional cunt’) It would be like the worst hell imaginable!
Eternal bliss may sound good to the people who have never even
had a single second of bliss in their lives, but those of us who
have orgasmed without procreation even crossing our minds and
not felt so much as a single iota of guilt afterwards, know that
there is little worse in life (or afterlife, I’d presume) than too
much of a good thing.

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For the sake of making a larger point, let’s all pretend
that the conservative notion of human liberty as the apotheosis
of immorality is, indeed, as bad as they think it is. Let’s just ask
ourselves these two questions:

Could the liberals be right about the world being fucked
by global warming?

Could the conservatives be right about the world being
fucked by God?

The respective answers are maybe and no.
But the more important question here is, “what about the
people who think things are the best they’ve ever been and are
getting better?” We exist, I assure you. Don’t we get a say in all
this? Where’s our media exposure? Where are our celebrity
icons? Our propaganda films?
All we’ve really got is that stupid fucking Bobby McFerrin
song, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” But how can we not worry when
everyone else assures us that there’s so many things that we
need to worry about? How can we be happy in a world full of
miserable people?
Being an optimist sucks.

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In all my years of spouting my crazy opinions, I have no
recollection—not one—of ever changing anyone's mind about
I've written essays and poems and songs and stories and
paragraph-long insanities on a million different subjects, but
none of it has ever made anyone who didn’t already agree with
me say, “Wow, you’re right!” I've constructed arguments that I
believed to be air-tight, but my enemies keep breathing
comfortably. I've produced, on a few occasions, nearly
incontrovertible evidence to back up this claim or that claim, but
the dissenters only scowled at me and stayed their course.
As I've stayed mine.
I state my opinion, you state yours—and neither of us
changes our mind? Neither of us improves or evolves in any
immediately conceivable way?
No one wants to change their mind about anything. They
actively resist it. They hate the very notion of it. If you examine
the words "change your mind" closely, with a psychologist’s eye,
it's easy to see the source of these fears.
Hell, if there was ever a word that scared the living pig
shit out of every man walking this little ball of shit in our toilet
bowl of a galaxy, its change:
"Things change," says the scraggly villain when the
hero falls.
"You've changed," says your girl or boyfriend just
before they dump you.
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"He's changing!" screams the protagonist of a
werewolf story when someone begins the transformation.
It's a very negative word. At least, usually. It does have
positive connotations as well:
"It's time for a change," says a new leader to a
crowd sick of the way their old leader mislead them.
"Nothing ever changes," someone says sadly. (This
is a negative statement, but change has positive
The rule here is easy enough to discern—change has a
positive connotations in dissatisfactory circumstances and a
negative connotations when people are content (or content
enough) with the way things are.
So when someone tries to change your mind, you reject
their attempts. Why? Because you're a human being who
secretly believes that you are perfect, in spite of your character
flaws, of which you are mostly aware. You are content enough in
your mind to feel as though it is untouchable and sacred—
something to be preserved at all costs.
Why do you think the first step any cult leader or
government agent takes to brainwash someone involves eroding
their sense of identity and smashing their self-esteem to pieces?
Any human being functioning normally is not very
susceptible to the overt suggestions of his fellow man, despite
our instinct to take cues from the pack and go along with
whatever the general consensus is. In fact, ironically enough, our
built in conformity streak is a big part of what makes us so

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reluctant to go along with people. This is because we are “wired”
to distrust the outsider and accept only the ideas of those within
our social group. In this age of extremely limited social
interaction, this mechanism, once crucial to the evolutionary
process, has begun to destroy us.
People are cynics who distrust everything. In the 1950’s
when the government and corporations churned out endless
propaganda, the masses, for the most part, believed every word
of it. Today, people distrust everything they hear, everything
they read, everything they see, everyone they meet. Nearly a
fourth of people believe that the Government was responsible for
the attacks of September 11th.
I suspect that people have always been terribly jittery
creatures, a race of idiots recoiling from their own shadows, but
there was always an “us” and a “them.” Us was a collective of
individuals that could be trusted—they go to the same church as
you, the have the same values as you, they are you. Them was
any one that belonged to any other group and believed a slew on
unwholesome, terrible things.
Now there is no us. There is only them.
We are a generation born to belong nowhere, a generation
charged with making out own clique, but we don’t want to. And
what is to blame for our reluctance? The conformist mechanism,
that component of our psyche that tells us that we’re not to trust
outsiders—but now everyone is an outsider.

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We do not function as a group. We do not have a common
ideology. We do not have a common system of values. We run the
Is this a good thing? Can anyone hope to compete with
other social organisms when they haven’t one of their own?
Doesn’t anyone want to get together and march to war with me?
Hell yes, you say?
But you want to lead?
Fuck that.
Never mind.

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A beer-bellied bastard on La-Z-Boy, swilling pisswater lager,
transfixed on a 24 months with no interest 52” plasma screen
TV’s from Best Buy, watching fast, advertisement-plastered cars
go in a circle—can you see it? Can you see those vacant eyes, fat
and glistening with impotent monkey rage? Can you see those
mustard stains on the wife beater too small to cover the
gelatinous blob of hair and flesh called his stomach? Can you
smell him—can you feel sweat, motor oil and poorly wiped ass
forcing its way up your nostrils?
This man—let’s call him Frank—works as a short order
chef at Waffle House, making $8.25 an hour after 10 years. He
hates niggers. He hates spics. He hates faggots. He loves Jesus.
He loves Nascar. He loves ogling teenage ass.
He’s an all-American. He votes for whoever waves the
flag the most enthusiastically, whoever tells him that he gets to
keep his guns, whoever says the world freedom the most and
whoever believes in freedom the least.
I hate Frank.
I don’t hate him because he’s a poor redneck. There are
Franks all over this nation with perfect elocution and full pocket
I don’t hate him because he’s a Christian. There are
Franks reading the Koran. There are Franks that practice Yoga
and pray before Buddhist altars.
I don’t hate him because he’s a conservative. There are
hippy franks who smoke pot and listen to Grateful Dead all day.
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I hate Frank because Frank is a stupid motherfucker that
will believe whatever the proper authority tells him. For Frank,
it’s Uncle Sam and one of the many guises of Jesus. I hate Frank
because he doesn’t stop to think that maybe people have a vested
interest in lying to him. I hate Frank because Frank doesn’t care
what happens in the world as long as it doesn’t happen to him.
Most of all, I hate Frank because Frank votes.
Politics is a movie with a high budget and a low IQ. The
acting is wooden, the plot is rehashed and the characters are
two-dimensional. Democracy is a packed theater full of cheering,
clapping idiots, enthralled by the some one-trick pony that
they’ve watched for as long as they can remember.
The people are a great and clamoring mass of idiots who
have no business making decisions about our society. Benjamin
Franklin said it better than I ever could: "Democracy is two
wolves and a lamb voting on what to have for dinner.
Liberty is a well-armed lamb contesting the vote."
What business does the heterosexual majority have
legislating the rights of the homosexual minority? What
business does the white majority have deciding how much
funding black schools will receive? What business does a
majority of Democrats or of Republicans have telling the other
near-half of the country how things will be done?
Democracy in it’s purest form is just fascism by
consensus, wherein 51% of the population can rule over 49%
simply because they’ve got bigger numbers. Would you let your
next door neighbor decide who you’re to marry or what you’re to

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wear or how you’re to spend your money or your time? Fuck no.
But that’s exactly what you’re doing when you participate in this
So why would you cast a vote for anyone? Why would you
choose to build the bars for your own cage? The constitution that
our wise founders set down to paper all the years ago to protect
our republic from mob rule and ensure the rights of individuals
has been eroded by years of apathy and malice. It’s not going to
protect you from the acephalous juggernaut of pure democracy.
When you go to the ballot box and cast your meaningless vote for
a meaningless man or woman who has no intentions of changing
a thing in this world for the better, you are complicit in your own
Why do you need someone else to represent your
interests? Why not represent your own interests in the day to
day world?
If you don’t like drugs, don’t do them. If you don’t like gay
marriage, don’t marry someone of the same sex. If you don’t like
abortions, don’t have one. Why do you need to pass a law that
says no one is allowed to do these things? What the fuck
business is it of yours where I stick a penis or a needle of a coat
If I want to walk down the street naked with my cock in
my hand, that should be my right! You have the right to turn
away or to call me an idiot or, if you’re a business owner, refuse
to sell goods to me. What’s so wrong with that? What’s the big

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fatal flaw in this plan that socialist and other democrats claim is
so glaring and obvious?
Freedom means the right to be part of a 1%. The right to
be in the majority is a given in any system. Even Stalin worked
for the good of the majority, he just killed a few million
irrelevant individuals to manage it (for the information of the
historically inept, he still failed).
I say nobody in ’08, because that’s exactly who I feel is
qualified to lead me:

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Libertarians don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about, and
their boner for the word and concept of responsibility attests to
this like nothing else.
I want you to focus very intently on the next two words I
am going to type: FUCK RESPONSIBILITY. Fuck it right in
its corny, shit-spewing asshole. Responsibility isn’t freedom.
They don’t even live on the same block. They work at the same
company, but they hate each other. They’re both vying for that
big promotion. They’re rivals.
Responsibility should be something we begrudgingly
accept as an unpleasant necessity, something to keep us from
offing motherfuckers for looking at us funny or to keep our dicks
in our pants at ballet recitals. Responsibility is nothing to come
in your panties about.
Yet all my libertarian friends just can’t get over how
fucking wonderful responsibility is!
OH! And they usually call it “personal” responsibility, which
is redundant because there’s no other kind. I know that they do
it to draw a distinction between responsibility to and for
themselves and responsibility to and for others—but come on, we
all know what responsibility means.
And they always pose these stupid questions to me like,
“Would you put a gun to my head and steal from me to give
medicine to a sick person?” They consider this an argument
against Universal Healthcare. It always makes their heads spin
when I answer, “If it was someone I knew, I’d blow your fucking
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head clean off just to extend that persons life another day.
Anyone who adamantly opposes a portion of their income going
to the treatment of sick people deserves to die anyway.”
I don’t actually believe that (my official stance on Universal
Healthcare is, in fact, that I don’t give a shit), but it’s fun to see
them get all pissed and indignant, hurling insults and screaming
obscenities. It makes them look like the primitivist apes they
The question asked by all political philosophies is this: where
does power belong? Some say that it belongs in the hands of
government (statists, fascists, communists), some say it belongs
in the hands of the people (social democrats). Some say it
belongs in the hands of the market (libertarians, anarcho-
capitalists). Some believe it belongs to individual persons—not to
be confused with the people (anarchists).
I don’t particularly like any of these ideas. So fuck it. I don’t
believe in anything other than tearing your stupid beliefs down
until someone smarter than me comes up with a solution.

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Okay, this is a last minute addition to this book and I’m
writing it in anger. You guys probably think that I often do
things hastily or act in anger, but really I don’t. I do
everything in my power not to. However, when the book
“Power To The People” by conservative talk radio slut Laura
Ingraham is number one in the country and is
deleting negative reviews in deference to cunt-servative
ideology, I find it hard to bite my tongue about it.
I have not read the book. I have never heard of Laura
Ingraham until today. But when I read the inside flap, I
could barely hold back the bile.
“If you're like most Americans, you've had enough.
You're fed up with sell-out politicians who won't
defend our borders; a Hollywood that peddles
profanity, pornography, and Al Gore and Rosie
O'Donnell as "entertainment"; schools that teach our
kids more about condoms than about the Constitution;
and snooty judges who think it's their job to legislate
for us. But there's a way to stop the madness and
return power to the people - where it belongs. Laura
Ingraham, the most-listened-to woman in political talk
radio, shows us how to take back what is ours. In
POWER TO THE PEOPLE she provides a riotous, take-
no-prisoners journey through our besieged culture
and gives us a battle plan to re-make it anew, the way
the Founders intended - strong, patriotic, pro-family,
and unapologetically God-fearing. Part expose, part
practical manifesto, and wholly entertaining, POWER
TO THE PEOPLE is written in the style of Laura's
fast-paced, no excuses, action-oriented radio show,
weaving in personal tales of her own struggle to right
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the culture and the politics of our country: including
how she derailed the appointment of Harriet Miers to
the Supreme Court, mounted a grassroots campaign
against corporate America's sponsorship of one of pop
music's biggest and most profane rap stars, and
torpedoed the amnesty bill that would have granted
instant legal status to millions of illegal aliens. And for
the first time, Laura also reveals how she found her
faith during a moment of deep loss, along with
poignant details of her year long battle with breast
cancer. Over the years Laura has jousted with
everyone from Michael Moore to Bill Maher to the
Dixie Chicks. She once worked in-side the "dinosaur"
media (CBS News and MSNBC) and knows the
deceptive techniques practiced by those who "report"
the news. In POWER TO THE PEOPLE, she holds back
nothing, and takes the fight beyond Right versus Left
to show you how to reclaim the culture and win. If
you're tired of bewailing America's course, if you want
to know what you can do to protect your family and
restore our country, POWER TO THE PEOPLE is the
book for you.

Too bad breast cancer didn’t win.
There is an unspoken truth this country that needs to be
spoken, and I’m the one to speak it: Conservatives, those
flag-waving fucktards who get all teary-eyed when the Star-
Spangled Banner starts bleating out of some sub-par
songster’s mouth, HATE—not just with a capital H but with
a capital A-T-E as well—America.
They talk about “Traditional Family Values” as if that
means something. The only thing it means is, “Fuck everyone
who’s different. They disgust me. They can all die.” What’s a
traditional family? Mom, dad, son, daughter—Dad works at
the plant, mom is a homemaker, junior likes baseball and jet
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airplanes, Little Sally likes to play with dolls and has no
further ambitions than keeping the kitchen clean for her
Fuck those values. I hate those values. I think those
values suck.
Do you know what I propose we do with those values?
Not a damn thing.
You know why? Because I believe in freedom. I believe
that “traditional” families can be traditional until they choke
on their own revolting conceit. It’s their right. What isn’t
their right is telling me what kind of family I can have.
Family is supposed to be a bunch of people under a roof
that love one another—whether it’s two men, two women, a
women and two men, a man and two women. How can it be
any of your business what your neighbor does if it doesn’t
effect you? Is your traditional family somehow damaged by
what Frank and Gregg two doors down are doing with their
You don’t love America. You love a 1950’s sitcom version
of America that never existed. It never did, it never could and
it never will.
Because as long as there are people like you who want to
clean up the world, there are people like me who will dirty it
faster than you can clean it.
I love violent rap music, guns, drugs, fags, niggers, spics,
kikes, Hollywood liberals, pornography, profanity, secular
humanism, lesbian mothers and Harry Potter.

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In short, I love America.
It’s my country as much as it is yours, and if you don’t
love that fact, then you’re not a patriot—you’re just another

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Wherein I disturb the ever-loving shit out of you.

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Rape isn’t fatal.
So imagine my indignation when I saw a chatroom called
“Rape Survivors.” Is this supposed to impress me? Someone
fucked you when you didn’t want to be fucked and you’re amazed
that you survived? Unless he used a chainsaw instead of his
dick, what’s the big deal?
I don’t mean to be horrendously offensive and insensitive
here, but everyone survives rape. Some women are killed
afterwards, but that’s murder, not rape. To say that you’re a
rape survivor is as meaningless as saying you’re a jury duty
survivor or a divorce survivor. Lots of things in life suck—that
doesn’t mean we survived them.
The word survivor applies to people who are alive after
being stabbed 73 times with an ice pick or mauled by rabid
wolverines, not to a woman who gets dick when she doesn’t want
it. Just because you got raped, you have to rape the English
language? You vindictive bitch!
Also, don’t you ever get tired of being the victim? How
many failed relationships are you going to blame on a single
violation of your personal space? I’m not making light of it. I
know that it is damaging, a reminder of your powerlessness
against the world—but it should be a wake up call. We are all
powerless against the forces of fate (or chance). We’re all on
different paths, but they all lead to the same place.
Life leaves no survivors.

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NOTE ON THE ABOVE: I just showed this writing to a friend
of mine, along with the question, “Is this too offensive to
release?” I was looking for a yes. I got one. So, I’ve included it
here. I’m here to cross lines. This is not The Amazing Atheist
from those cute little youtube videos you love so much—this is
the real me. And the real me doesn’t give a fuck about your
small-minded boundaries.
If you’ve been raped, does the above passage add insult to
injury? Does it make it hurt worse? How could it? If rape is the
paramount psychological trauma in life, then how could my
words aggravate it whatsoever? Too often in this culture, we fear
words. But even if my words are the height of ignorance, they
should elevate you. If you find them funny, then you will laugh
and dismiss them as a joke. If you find them honest, you will
respect my bravery. If you find them infuriating, I will have
given you power. If you find them sad, then I have enriched you.
Words never make less of a person, unless they are bland.
If you feel something, then I’ve done my job as a writer.

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People always feel the need to defend my penis from me, even
when I’m not attacking it. All I have to do is mention that it is
small and people will say, “I’m sure it’s just fine.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t fine. I just said it was small.”
“It’s not small, I’m sure.”
“No,” I insist, puzzled that they would argue with me
about a piece of my anatomy, “It is.”
“It probably just looks small because you’re such a big
“Well, that probably makes it look smaller, but even
disregarding that, it’s small.”
“Why are you so down on yourself?” they ask.
“I’m not,” I always explain at that point. “I don’t have
anything against my penis, but the fact is that it is a small
penis. Any shame I might have about that I lost after getting
laid a few times and realizing that it wasn’t the end of the
On the other hand . . .
A girl told me a story once. She told me that she was once
lying naked in bed, legs spread apart, waiting for some guy she
had just met to come in and fuck her. He entered the room,
looked down at her, and started undressing. But at that last
crucial moment, the revelation of what he was packing, he
unveiled a miniscule member, probably roughly the size of mine,
and she closed her legs instantly and left him standing there to
wallow in his woe.

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I told her, “You’re lucky it wasn’t me. I’d have busted
your fucking nose and raped you.”
So maybe I am still a little sensitive about it.
But hey, it’s easier to convince chicks to do anal—so
there’s a small consolation. Right?
Eh, fuck you.

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A brain dead idiot that I used to talk to (it was GypsyWytch)
once told me that there was nothing sexual about breasts, that
they were just to feed children. I think she told herself this in
order to convince herself that people like her for her brain and
not for her bust. I know that I'm probably breaking the rules of
literature when I actually commit this word to ink, but LULZ!

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The females of every mammalian species other than man
have breasts that become engorged only when they are nursing
their young. Only human breasts stay plump and juicy year
round—why is that?
The answer is as simple as it is beautiful. Because human
beings walk upright, women needed a frontal as well as a rear
sexual display—big tits was evolution's answer to the need. This
is why a pair of voluptuous breasts looks remarkably similar to a
fine ass. Tits are a mimic of ass—but are they a shoddy imitation
or an improvement on the original design? Let's explore.
Have to press them Asshole is pleasantly ASS
together to fuck tight and even if
them, and even your cock is small,
then there’s no real she can really feel it.
You get to cum on You get to cum on TITS
their face when their back when
you’re done. you’re done.
Easy prep with Requires lube and TITS
little clean up. possibly some
educational videos if
you’re well-endowed.
And you might get
shit on the tip of
your dick.

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Hard to stare at You can take a ASS
without girl picture and she
noticing. won’t be any the
Easy to get girls to Girls get weirded TITS
let you play with or out if you play with
even fuck them. it too much and are
often extremely
reluctant to let you
fuck it.
Suckable. Spankable. TIE
Sags with age. Looks good into a ASS
woman’s 40s or so.

It’s a tie!
No, I’m just fucking with you!
Ass wins.
“Why?”, you may ask.
Just because.
My book, my rules.
Deal with it.

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Wherein I pretend to be smarter than I actually am.

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I am not easily bored. I'm very content with tranquility, because
my mind is a circus freak show of deformed demons and holy
holes. I can sit for hours in what is perceived as aloofness, when
in reality, or rather, out of reality, I am moving at a million
miles a second, reveling in my genius and lamenting my idiocy. I
sit there with a blank expression on my face—the world scarcely
pays attention. They have no idea that I am in another place; a
place where the beauty of ugliness is understood completely and
so am I. In this wonderful, horrible world, I am an all-powerful
god, whose every perversion is immediately fulfilled. I reign over

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the populace like the eidolon named Night from Edgar Allen
Poe's, Dream-land. I suppose that is exactly what the world of
my thoughts is: a dream-land.
The real world finds me in an infinitely less enjoyable
position. I am a spineless coward, insecure in myself and unable
to muster the will to take any step towards improving the
quality of my existence. Despite the fact that I am blessed with
luxuries that most don't have, I am apathetic. Even in the face of
adversity, I remain unfazed and uncaring. I neglect my hygiene
to the point of disgusting those around me. I am infatuated with
a pathetic fantasy world that is obviously a product of my
shallow, meaningless life. Dream-land is basically a necessary
antithesis of reality—artificial flavoring if you will.
I take some (but not much) comfort in the knowledge that
I am at least intelligent enough to analyze and understand my
delusions. That is supposed to be the mark of a true philosopher:
the ability to analyze ones own delusions. It is for this reason
that I have chosen to write this. I feel that we live in times that
are in need of a new philosopher; someone who realizes both his
inadequacy and his greatness; his kindness and his cruelty; his
love and his lust. That someone is me—or it isn't. Only my time
and your ridicule will tell.
It is amazing how many people can formulate a rationale
to justify their actions or further their cause. Obviously, logic is
not flawless. It is, in all honesty, very flawed. Different minds
make different connections and have different prejudices;
therefore we are inclined to side with the rationale that best

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rewards us. We will actively and consciously defy what we know
to be true in order to obtain our ideal. But what, if anything, do
we know to be true? Well, according to Descartes, the only
knowledge we truly possess is that of the existence of our own
thoughts. Sadly, it is the true nature of this thought stream that
is so often raped and mutilated by institutions such as religion,
politics and the education system.
But if logic is flawed, how is one supposed to advance an
It is a question that is probably bubbling in your mind
right now. The answer is simple enough—one can't.
So then, why bother to attack logic in the first place?
Because far too many people have forgotten that logic can
be imperfect. It should seem obvious, when there are so many
contradicting ideas out there, but it has become so blatant and
common that it is rarely ever perceived anymore. I want all who
read this to realize that logic is not natural law, and we have no
standardized system of it. The truth is that logic is a blunt force
instrument, used as a weapon or a shield for institutions that
have no true merit.
Religion- Pious logic is the most dangerous and flawed of
all the forms of logic. It is logic that only makes sense if one is
willing to blindly accept the unprovable as fact. In the case of
Christianity, all that is required is a belief in God. Christian
logic states that God created the universe and knows and sees
all things. Therefore, his opinions are automatic facts. His
opinions, as well as his guidelines for living, are all collected in a

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book entitled The Holy Bible. So, it can be logically assumed that
The Bible is always right and any other logic is just the flawed
logic of man. This only works, however, if you believe in God.
But when you try to rationalize the existence of God, you end up
with the following paradox: Christians believe in God because
The Bible told them to, and they believe in The Bible because
God told them to. Atheists like myself are all too familiar with
this circular reasoning.
Politics- Political logic is too often based upon something
that is initially just propaganda. A clever politician knows how
to confuse even the most intelligent of people, simply by hiding
the lack of substance behind a wall of euphemous logic. All the
rationality in the world means nothing if it is built upon a
foundation of nothingness.
Advertising- If you drink beer, beautiful women will want
to have sex with you. If you have any problem spotting the flaw
in that logic, then you need to go take some cyanide, because
you're a waste of existence.
Law- Justice System logic is reliant on the infallibility of
the justice system. That is all the justification they feel they
need. Any logic beyond that point is simply for decorative
purposes. Example: prostitution is illegal, but as comedian
George Carlin has often pointed out, it makes little sense for
there to be a law against selling a thing which is legal to give
Notice a trend? Sound reasoning is often corrupted by
extremely illogical suppositions at the foundational level. I

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suggest that you be extremely careful when considering a new
idea. Always check the building material used for the foundation
on which any rationale is based. But be wary, for distortions
don't always occur at the foundation.
KEEP IN MIND- Even though I try to base all my logic
on fact (or at least well thought out opinion), I am human, and
just as liable to make an error in rationality as anyone. Do not
consider anything I say through out the course of this book as
being anything more than one man's thoughts and ideas. I hope
that my ideas will feed your own, just as all of your ideas have
fed mine. We must share knowledge and opinion with one
another for as long as we are able. We may get our Nietzschian
Ubermensche yet. It could be you.

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The God(dess) speaks
Say this unto the world of man.
This is the word of the god(dess) called dull throbbing as
transcribed by the servant of reality and unreality—which are
one in the same—Terroja.
I have given him his name to celebrate his significance
and expose naked his irrelevance.
He is a living martyr . . . thus, he is a contradiction. Thus,
an apt (anti)prophet for this age.
I do not exist. I am a figment of his imagination.
I exist. I am an imagination of his universe, which has an
effect upon this larger universe—the mind of the one true God.
But let us not concern ourselves with Him. He is too
important to be relevant. He is concerned with His own gods,
and they with theirs.
Acknowledge the limitations of infinity.
Embrace the vastness of personal destiny.
An endless field of reflection, as a man standing between
two giant mirrors will see an army of clones of himself—so are
the gods of mortals. Every god is a mortal. Every mortal is a god.
The hierarchy is endless. Thus, position is irrelevant. You
are the slave to, and master of, infinity.
Do not fear or fret if you fail to grasp this concept.
Understanding is given sparingly.
Do not shun what your mind does not grasp. Perhaps
heart or soul will be quicker to understand.

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Mind=The universe. Your personal dull throbbing. I am
Heart=If your mind is the universe, then your heart is
the eye that views it and interprets its meaning.
Soul=Your soul is a string. Strings hold all things.
How can it be known that this is truth? It cannot. But the
truth is what it wants to be to who wants it to be.
You demand concrete. Yet, you are given paper mache.
But in building a statue, which would you prefer?
If you seek ease, you will demand the paper mache.
If you seek longevity, you will demand the concrete.
Concrete statues crumble. You demand metal.
Metal will rust.
Nothing is eternal, save for existence itself, growing and
"Sophistry!" you say. I try to sell you the flawed.
Yes and no. I give you what you want. And that is the
only truth that you will ever accept.
How can you discriminate when you only accept what
sounds good to you?
The rational man says, "I do not believe this."
The rational man ignores a heart and soul that beg aloud
in his mind for him to accept the burden of true multireality—
which is both reality and unreality. Or, if you prefer, perception
and imagination.
Thus, he that embraces only concretions is no more
rational than he who embraces only abstractions.

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Wisdom lies not in choosing one or the other, but in
recognizing the place of both.

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LOVE AND HATE—It’s easy to hate. It’s fun to hate. It’s
comforting, like the buzz from a few pints of ale. It courses
through your veins, throbbing, reassuring you or your
superiority. When you hate a man, it’s easy to watch him die.
When you hate a cause, it’s funny to see that cause fail. When
you hate yourself—truly despise your every breath—there’s
nothing that can stand in your way.
It’s hard to love. It’s miserable to be in love or to love a
thing. It’s stifling, like smoke in the air. It courses through your
veins, making you feel small and useless. When you love a
person, it’s easy for them to stab you in the back. When you love
a cause, it’s easy for that cause to consume you. When you love
yourself—truly adore your every breath—you have everything to

BEAUTY—I am the dirt streaked against your windshield,
stretched thin, cracked, ugly—but the light shines through me.
I've never seen anything breath-taking. I've never had a
moment in my life where my breath was stopped by the sheer
perfection of a sight. I've known the intensity of fear, of hate, of
self-loathing—but never beauty.
Everything that's supposed to be lovely is offset by the
ugliness of my heart. How could I, who lies and hurts at every
juncture, look at the beauty of a sunset and feel anything but

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wretched? The light of beauty only serves to illuminate my
I would like to watch a city burn to the ground from a
nearby hillside, huge flames reaching from the buildings to the
sky, blotting out the stars with their smoke. That would take my
breath away. That would make me feel alive.
What does that say about me?

PERFECTION—Being perfect is just another imperfection.

GREAT MEN—More great men have died than have ever lived.

ABSOLUTE FREEDOM—In a world of absolute freedom, you
own yourself. What you own, you can sell. Therefore, you can sell
yourself; you can become another person’s property. But then,
what if you change your mind? Can you tell them that they no
longer own you and leave? If you can, then what did they buy? If
you can’t, then even absolute freedom isn’t absolute.

TRUTH—If the truth is hurtful to someone you care about and
a lie is pleasant (and if it is your desire to please them and not to
hurt them) then you should be true to your desires and lie to
them. It is the most honest course of action.

DECEPTION—The contrary nature of humanity renders the
masses more easily deceived by an outright lie than a half-truth.

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MISANTHROPY—Misanthropes are the truest humanists.
Anyone with love for the human race will find themselves so
daily filled with bitterness and disappointment that hatred will
become their only means of expressing their love.

RESORT TO VIOLENCE—Why do people always talk about
having to “resort to violence.” People like violence. They don’t
resort to it. If anything, people resort to discussion/compromise.

GREATNESS—Humanity is the antithesis of greatness. Only
when we cease to be human will we begin to be great.

GREATNESS 2—Who is it that says that not all men can be
great? Surely all men can be great in some respect. Otherwise,
why should they exist at all?

FEASIBLE GOODNESS—Don’t confuse what’s feasible with
what’s just. Don’t confuse what’s possible with what’s good.

THE STRANGER—In this age of constant distraction, we find
ourselves very uncomfortable in the moments where we are
alone and undistracted. To be alone in this times is the be
trapped in a room with a stranger.

SMALL-MINDED GREED—Greed is not a vice. Short-
sightedness is. So often, the want for a few trinkets in the

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immediate costs us the cooperation that could have yielded all of
us riches beyond measure.

ACHIEVING POWER—A gang of unremarkable thugs will
prevail over the most remarkable of men without fail.
Individuals cannot achieve power by opposing the masses, only
by controlling them.

THE CRUX OF POWER—The more leashes your hold, the
wider and weaker your grip will become.

THE FALLACY FALLACY—When you remove all fallacies
from an argument, you wind up with nothing more than
disagreement for the sake of disagreement—which is the truth
behind all of our disputes, but it’s a boring truth so it can go fuck

ALL TRAGEDY IS CONTRAST—Something is alive, then it is
dead. Flesh is intact, then it is not. A building stands, then it
does not. These are tragedies.
A man dies slowly of a terminal illness. Skin cells die off
over time. A building becomes dilapidated and is eventually
condemned. These are (though possibly sad) not tragedies.
Why not?

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x That which is not paradoxical is not true.
x That which is boring is not true.
x That which is comprehensible is not true.
x That which is not frightening is not true.
x That which is true is probably still not true.

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Wherein I make this book longer so I can charge
more for it.

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Little boys with tits! Could life possibly be more amusing? The
corpulent spawn of bovine Americans waddling around on the
slick floors McDonalds’ across the nation, sweating pure grease
and heaving with exhaustion—it’s so fucking adorable that it
makes me want to stomp on a litter of kittens while singing the
national anthem. It makes me so proud that I want to tattoo the
American flag to my putrid little penis and expose myself to old
women at the supermarket.
A friend of mine once told me that when fat people are
burned to death in a fire, the odor that their charbroiled blubber
leaves behind is exactly identical to the smell of a McDonalds.
Makes you want double quarter-pounder (what a ludicrous
name) with cheese, doesn’t it?
Ugliness—that’s the contribution of Mickey D’s to this
fine nation. Making the landscape more ugly with its endless
golden arches, making people more ugly with their fattening
“food”—making children jones for burgers like crackheads jones
for their next hit. Damned evil cunts.
Still, they’ve got good eats.

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How pissed would you be if I’d just filled this book with little X’s?
That shit would have been so funny.
Xxx xxxx xxx xxxxxx xxx xx xxxx xx xx x x xxxxxx xx x x
xxxx xxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxx xxxx xxx xx xx xx x x xxx xxxx xx
x xxxx xxxx.
Tell me there’s not a part of you that wouldn’t be
impressed by that? “Holy shit, that dumb ass tricked me into
buying nothing! What a cunt!”
Oh, how I’d laugh. How I’d laugh with your beautiful
money fattening my wallet. MWAHAHAHA!!!
You’re lucky I’m such a nice guy.

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I notice that black guys don’t complain too much about being
categorized as well-endowed, nor do I hear too many complaints
from Asians about being labeled as good at math. If a black man
can hold the belief that he is a better dancer than most white
men then why is he so offended by the notion of many whites
that their race is generally intellectually superior? It seems to
me that racism is either valid or its not. Those who fight against
it need to stop allowing exceptions, or they undermine their own

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When I was 15, I would have done anything for even the
smallest taste of fame, but now that I’ve had the smallest taste
of fame I’d castrate myself with a toothpick before wanting even
one more subscriber to my Youtube channel.
Imagine the stupidest, most annoying person you’ve ever
met. Now imagine that person being annoyed to death by the
people who write me letters everyday. I get about 10 to 20
private messages on youtube per day and they fit into four basic

1. Horrifying.
2. Revolting.
3. Sickening.
4. “There’s no way this is a real

The sentence “amacing athiest u fucken rock” is the most
horrible thing I have ever seen. How could anyone who enjoys
my videos be so fucking stupid? I’d rather have one million of the
most vitriolic invective-spewing detractors than even one stupid
fan. You’re writing to me, yet you can’t spell my name? How is
that even fucking possible? You had to type my name to send me
the message, so you must know how to spell it or it never would
have reached me!
You fucking people are mud—made of dirt and piss.
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Just look at a few common comments I receive on any
given video:

What does that mean, exactly? Is a stranger actually being so
presumptuous as to criticize my use of my time? What sort of
twisted sense of values would lead anyone to believe that they
are in a better position to arrange my affairs than I am?
I have a sneaking suspicious that the sort of people who
compress the coal of my cohesion into this priceless little
diamond of invective (a gem of counter-wisdom) are actually
saying that instead of spending my time making videos about
issues of interest or concern to me, I should be drinking alcohol
and having sexual intercourse with inebriated girls in an
environment of negligible consequences.
If my presumption is correct, I wonder why it is that they
themselves use so much time that could be devoted to the
aforementioned promiscuities to instead watching videos that
they very apparently find distasteful or boring.

Indeed I am, keen observer! How magnificent your perception
must be to notice such a well-concealed characteristic! I am truly
in awe of your perceptive abilities. Your skills are wasted here
on the internet! You should apply them, instead, to the field of
espionage. Provided that the enemies are dragging around heavy
briefcases with huge red lettering reading “TOP SECRET”

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stamped across the side, you’ll undoubtedly perform all missions
with an aptitude hitherto unheard of among government field

You’re a failed psychic.

I average about one video per day. My videos are typically
around six or seven minutes in length. A seven minute video
takes seven minutes to shoot, seven minutes to upload to my
computer, five minutes to render, 5 minutes to upload.
Comments can be checked at my convenience. All in all, I spend
about 24 minutes a day (on average--it’s often more of less)
dedicated to my own videos. But let’s say I spent an hour. That’s
still 23 hours a day left to work, read, fap, watch other people’s
videos, listen to music, go to movies, go out to eat or anything
else that I feel like doing.
In summary, you’re a douchetard.

FUN FACT: Microsoft Works Word Processor tries to change
“douchetard” to “documentary.”

What bearing does your disbelief in God have on your feelings
towards me? This comment implies that I am seeking the
approval of all my fellow non-believers or that I am of the

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position that I am entitled to the automatic support of atheists
everywhere. This could not be further from the truth. The fact
that a person shares my lack of belief in the big G does spark a
modicum of endearment in me, but nothing that would sustain
any lasting feelings of loyalty or friendship.
In other words, fuck you too, buddy.

Pardon the fuck out of me for not sticking to some lame ass party
line at all times. I have my own ideas and opinions—if that’s
something you’re against, then you can kiss every square
centimeter of my golf ball-dimpled ass.
You never elected me. I never hired you as a consultant.
You never paid me to make my videos. I can’t see what in our
relationship would lead you to the assumption that you have
input on my content? Allow me to clear up this little
misconception by stating definitively that I DO NOT GIVE A
Personally, I think you make yourself look stupid when
you say otherwise.

Fuck you.

The fact that I deal with this shit on a daily basis would
nominate me for sainthood in a world worth living in. I should be

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on the one dollar bill for the stupidity I have suffered at the
hands of YouTubers with more spare time than good sense.

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At Movie Theaters
x Snack prices and anyone dumb enough to pay them.
$3.50 for Twizzlers? Suck my fucking cock, AMC
Theaters. I’ll buy that shit at the drugstore for 99 cents
and sneak it in. Are you gonna pat me down? I don’t
think so.

x People who demand their money back when the movie
fucks up for 10 whole seconds. If I were the theater
manager, I’d waggle my dick at them when they
demanded to see me. “Oh, you didn’t want a good glimpse
of my man meat? I apologize. From your cock-hungry tone
of voice, I thought that’s what you wanted.”

x Clean floors. What the fuck is this shit? I like when I go
to a movie theater and my foot sticks to the layer of
congealed sugar (and semen?) on the floors. I like the
sound it makes and I like the way it feels.

x Commercials? Not only do I have to sit through 20
minutes of trailers for shit that I wouldn’t see unless
some malevolent force with a Clockwork Orange eye-pry
setup decided otherwise—now I’ve also got to endure
insipid advertisements that assure me that Coca-Cola is
the solution to all my problems in life.

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x Black people. The characters can’t hear you. SHUT THE

x Old people. You don’t need to explain the plot to whoever
is sitting next to you. SHUT THE FUCK UP.

x Teenage girls. Why did you come to a movie just to talk to
on your cell phones? SHUT THE FUCK UP.

x Movie geeks. No one cares what program the studio used
to CG Tom Cruise into a non-midget. SHUT THE FUCK

x The kid behind me. If you don’t stop kicking my chair, I’m
going to tear off your legs and use them to plug up your
fat mother’s used twat so that she can’t sick any more
little fucktards like you on decent folk like myself.

x Stupid people who insist on using the automatic ticket
machine. If you’re too stupid to figure it out, wait in line
with the rest of the dimwits.

Dealing With People
x When someone is close enough behind you that you would
feel impolite not holding the door for them, but far
enough behind you that you have to stand there for

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longer than is comfortable, holding a door for some
stranger who doesn’t even say thank you or give you a
nod of respect of anything. Who the fuck does he think he

x The way people act more repulsed by obese women then
they actually are just to seem cool in the eyes of their

x People who point my height out to me. “Wow! You’re tall!”
Wow! You’re stupid!

x Screaming kids. Leave your spawn at home if they can’t
handle the stress of being at Wal-Mart. It’s bad enough
that I have to be around obnoxious hordes of adults, I
don’t need the ear-splitting bellyaching of brats too.

x Small talk. Who gives a fuck how I am today, you ugly
fucking cunt. Put my buttplug and SLUT paddle in the
bag and hand me my receipt so I can go about my day—
and don’t tell me to have a nice one. I haven’t had a nice
day since 1995 and I don’t plan on repeating the
experience any time soon.

x People who take my humor seriously and my seriousness
as humor. That’s pretty much all of you.

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x Listening to someone’s problems and awkwardly feigning
sympathy when all I want to do is scream, “I don’t
fucking care!” at the top of my lungs.

x People who quit smoking and then tell everyone else how
bad smoking is for you the next day as if they’ve never
touched a cigarette in their lives.

x Babies. Whenever I hear a story about some guy who
raped a baby, I laugh my ass off.

x Women who say things like, “Who cares what Paris
Hilton is doing! This isn’t news!” and then watch two
hours of Paris Hilton coverage.

x People who spout uncourageous and uncontroversial
opinions as if they were cutting edge. “I don’t mean to be
offensive, but I don’t like Terrorists.” Wow. What a brave
fucking stance on the issue. I’ll be impressed the day that
someone says to me, “I don’t give a shit what anyone
thinks, I like Osama Bin Laden. He just seems like the
kind of guy I’d have a beer with.”

In The Media
x Princess Di. A spoiled bitch went splat because she
couldn’t handle the strain of being photographed on her
way back to her mansion. She’s not worth the salt of the

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tears wasted on her. I could have sprinkled that shit on
my eggs, you wasteful bastards.

x Fox News has a conservative slant. Fine. That’s obvious.
Quit pointing it out as if you’re Noam fucking Chomsky
just for being smart enough to notice.

x Nancy Grace is worse than every child molester she
demonizes. Her face is like a sack of moldy prunes that
someone puked on. Her voice is like the contents of a
spittoon being lapped up by a dozen starving
Chihuahuas. If someone put lipstick on a rattlesnake and
gave me a choice between kissing Nancy Grace or the
rattlesnake, I’d tell the EMT to have some antivenom
standing by.

x Bill O’Reilly’s ratings are only as high as they are
because people watch him as a comedy show, so quit
shitting yourselves liberals.

x Al Franken isn’t funny. And I don’t mean Bob Saget not
funny or Andrew Dice Clay not funny. Al Franken is
staring at a beige wall not funny. Why is this guy called a
comedian? That’s like calling a dog that laps up it’s own
sick a chef.

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x Fuck the Anniversary of some shit that happened once.
Do you mean to tell me that nothing else happens on
September 11th but the anniversary of some planes
crashing into a few buildings and offing a k’s worth of
homo sapiens? That’s old news. We all remember it.
Those of us who don’t are either stupid or Alzheimer’s
patients. Light a candle. Sing a song. Then get back to
the real items of the day. You know, important stuff like
Paris Hilton’s latest public display of gross insipience.

In The Bedroom
x Dommes with delusions of grandeur. You spank my ass
for one reason and one reason only, bitch—because that’s
what I want from you. Nature has seen to it that I could
smack you in the face and tell you to piss off if I so chose.
Too often I’ll go on the internet and visit the websites of
dommes who think that they’re going to set up a
matriarchal utopia where men are their servants. You
provide a service. That’s all. Supply and demand, bitch.
Look it up.

x Toothy blowjobs. What the hell? My dick is tiny. It’s not
like it’s an explosion of flesh in your mouth—you should
be able to keep the teeth off of it.

x Not having had enough sex in my life to actually make
this list a decent length.

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For some reason, Christians have gotten it in their heads that
God doesn’t want us vacuuming fetuses right out of the womb
before they have a chance to drive everyone batshit with their
unending chorus of high-pitched mewling.
Luckily for us, the moral majority doesn’t care what
happens to people after they’re out of the womb, so here are
some fun uses for those unaborted babies guaranteed not to rile
any religious zealots with their gears stuck in the 12th century.

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In case you haven’t noticed (and who hasn’t, honestly?) babies
are roughly the same size as Thanksgiving turkeys. Those
unwanted November tots, properly trussed, can make a delicious
meal for you and your family.
That’s good eatin’!

This gives a whole new meaning to playing catch with your son!
Though heavier and less wieldy than the old pig skin, an
otherwise typical game of drunken backyard football with the
guys can be livened up considerably by substituting Junior for
the ball.
Play until the ball gets limp, stops crying and is cold to
the touch.

The premise of the game is exceedingly simple—you just throw
the shot (usually a small metal ball weighing around 8 lbs.) as
far as you can. Normally, this game is played on a wide, grassy
field. However, when using a brat for your shot, I recommend a
debris-strewed alleyway—the rats and pigeons will take care of

If it can eat a bunny, it can eat a baby.

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You could drop a penny off the empire state building, sure. But
why waste money? With gas prices how they are and the stock
market’s recent instability, can you really afford to be tossing
pennies off skyscrapers or into wishing wells like you used to?
The solution is obvious—babies instead of pennies—everyone
loves that delightful SPLAT! they make.

Take little Sally on a trip to the taxidermist! Trust me, she’ll be
better off as a cup holder than a stripper (you’re a shitty
parent—all your kids will wind up in sex industry jobs if you let
them grow up). Besides, if you ever decide to keep a kid for some
reason, seeing that their older sibling wound up a cherub on the
mantle will get them to bite their insolent little tongues.

If you are offended by this list, then allow me to remind you that
babies are nothing but bug-eyed little doughy sacks of
perpetually leaking piss and shit that adults have tricked
themselves into finding adorable.
“But, Amazing Atheist, they’re human beings!”
So were the Nazis. Are you pro-Nazi?

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Hunter S. Thompson blew his brains out on my birthday, which
is also Kurt Cobain's birthday. It's odd, because sometimes I feel
like I'm somewhere in between the two—part brooding loner,
part raging truth-seeker. My writing lacks the fire of
Thompson's, and it lacks the poetry and irony of Cobain's, but
it's naked and self-revealing in the same way theirs were. I feel
like I'm the heir to that throne sometimes—the suicide genius,
the man who loves the whole world by hating himself.

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Can one declare them self such a thing, or is that for the
people to decide? I’d hate to think that it's in the hands of such a
small-minded bunch of miserable cretins. But, the idea that it's
in my hands is even worse in many ways.
This is such livejournal shit. I bet you feel stupid for
paying 20 dollars for this. Fucking idiots!
Eh, cheer up! It's all good, right? What the fuck does it
matter in the long run? We're all just biding our time until the
day we become corpses. Everything we do from the cradle forth
is just a distraction from the grave, a way of denying how fragile
our lives are, how death is getting nearer and nearer.
It's a cruelty of nature that a being should have to
understand the concept of death. We have so long fought against
it with fanciful notions of an afterlife that is far better than our
small lives here on earth. "This is all you get," are the most
hopeless words that could ever be spoken in the ears of most
Death is not “far away.” It isn’t “just a transition.” It’s
close, and it’s forever.

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The final musing

I am the scum of the earth, and if you've gotten this far then so
are you. We laugh about dead babies, hate our fellow man, view
the majority of people as insects who are ruining the world for
superior beings like us. We're like comic book super villains,
sans all those nifty superpowers.
It’s lonely here, isn’t it? Dark. Cold. Almost
uninhabitable. Our only joys are sadistic. They take as much out
of us as they give us. When we love, it’s not with purity, not with
a new lightness in our steps. We love heavy. We love like tar and
broken glass glinting in the light of a bloody moon.
People often tell me that I’m full of hate. They tell me
that I don’t love anything. Do people say that to you? Do you
similarly think about them dying horribly for their stupidity? I
love a great many things.
I love the sound leaves make when they are blown across
the pavement in autumn.

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I love the smell of gasoline, all thick and intoxicating with
undercurrents of masculine cruelty.
I love to watch a girl put on gloves. She has to do it just
right—with that little tug at the end to make sure they’re tight
against her fingers.
I love to see two people who truly love one another,
holding one another, oblivious to the world and its litany of
woes. It makes me sad, because I know that I don’t have the
capacity for love like that—but my sadness is another thing that
I love.
I love dirty jokes. They make me feel like such an
antichrist, so callous—the illusion of invulnerability.
I love an ass that’s too big for the girl it belongs to; one
that juts out like a balloon. I want to stick my face in it and
worship with every ounce of unspent religious fervor in my
cobweb-laden soul.
And I love hate.
Believe it or not, this book started off as a suicide note. I
wanted to die (the reasons aren’t important), but first I wanted
to capture everything I was into a book. I wanted to encapsulate
myself in paper and ink. But the more I wrote, the more I
realized the strangest of all truths, the strangest of all loves.
I realized that, for all my faults, I love myself.
I love being a dirty, foul-mouthed, hypocritical, lying,
cheating, manipulating sleaze ball who walks around with an air
of tactless conceit. I like that fact that I’m lazy and that I’m
probably quite stupid when you get right down to it.

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The Amazing Atheist

I love being a scumbag.
I hope that this book has made your love being a scumbag
The Amazing Atheist,
September 13th, 2007

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The Amazing Atheist

To TJ,
For sharing his head with me, Terroja, for 10 years now.

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The Amazing Atheist


Front & Back Cover By: Cody Weber & The Amazing Atheist

Pages 17, 45, 69, 89, 99, 115 by Ben McCarty –

Page 12 by the unreachable Lisa Sutton

Page 23 by Studio7Manga –

Pages 29, 51 by Ann Brown

Page 56 by ???? (if you drew the fucking thing, let me know and
I’ll credit you in the next edition)

Page 70,135 by

Page 94 Budhag Rizzo -

Pages 100, 130 by Sveinung Sveinungsen AKA Dendrophilian

Page 133 by Daniel Trujillo

141 by Sl Bauer

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The Amazing Atheist

I hope you enjoyed the book.

Send reviews or point out typos at:


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