Antichrist will Eat Your Babies' Smiles

Who will win?

I asked myself that question tonight when a soft-spoken old lady I work with asked me who I thought the Antichrist was.

"What makes you think I believe there is an antichrist? Doesn't the bible say there are many antichrists?"

"Gary, your disbelief in the Antichrist will not make the Antichrist go away. What's real is real," she said, half in this world -- half in her own.

"Your belief in an antichrist doesn't make an antichrist real either, does it?"

"No, but the bible is right, and that's how you and I know the Antichrist is real -- regardless of our beliefs... ...you be careful, mister."

The salt-and-peppered, long, straight-haired lady looked at me with genuine concern. "Jesus loves you. Do you care?" she seized the moment.

It was a question I had asked people before, and being on the receiving end this time, all I could realize is what this lady thought of me. I am a person "on the other side" to her. A person with only one hope, perhaps, without hope altogether. I have no doubt about her genuine concern for my soul, and it's really hard for me to bite my tongue in a situation like this. Being her superior about to clock-in, I smiled, and said no more.

I can hear the whispers echoing in the few church buildings of the Upper Peninsula where I have made friends with Christians who generally make no bones about my Antichurch Contentism. Those buildings have tall walls, and I swear I hear the echos on Wednesday nights. "I pray for Gary Phillips. Save him." I'm a name in a list of "the other people." I might be squeezed right next to grandma and grandpa, but I'm in the list. I'm a person worthy of someone's time, and that means something to me.

I don't have a list.

I don't have a collection of people that I pray over. I don't preclude the great battle of good and evil to the great void of philosophy. After all, I believe in things. I think there is a battle, and I am concerned. The same forces that raise churches are within me raising concern for humanity. I see a nuclear holocaust a real possibility, and I'm afraid of people who find it a certainty.

In the end, a belief in Antichrist, is my antichrist, for only without one is there hope.

Feel

I'm learning that what I feel is more influential than logic is.

I have a "bad feeling" about that guy.

My "gut" says, "no."

I had a lot of fun getting an alcohol buzz.

I'm relaxed when I smoke.

I could go for some McDonald's.

We're ruled by our feelings. When people disagree with us on a technicality, we feel we've lost a little dignity. We don't like that feeling, and so we don't like them. Irrelevant things become relevant and fuel for why we don't like them.

It's about feelings.

It's a clean slate up here where I live. I'm learning that I don't have to like chocolate cake, but that I don't need to remind everyone who loves it about my own distaste for it. "Eww, I can't believe you're eating that. I hate chocolate cake," would get a response like, "yeah, we know. Thanks for reminding us."

It must be annoying for people who enjoy their cake to hear from the person who doesn't. What is the point of saying, "That cake you're eating looks gross." Do I think there is some sort of progression where cake loves, when mature, will become cake haters? Or is it that some people like cake, and other people don't. Why make it an issue? X-Files starts in three minutes.

If it's not cake, is it church? How do you feel about the guy who reminds you that he doesn't like church?

You get that feeling, and you begin to resent that feeling and that person.

Hey, "church is stupid."

"Yeah, you mentioned that before."

Some people like chocolate cake, and that's their prerogative. We can still watch X-Files together.

Update

Just a quick update before I head back out the door...

I'm a full-time student, and I'm working full time.

These past three weeks have been, perhaps, the busiest three weeks of my life (second to a time that I worked at Matrix Evolution, and got a two-hour power-nap nightly between shifts for a couple weeks straight in 2002).

I just got promoted to Supervisor at the company I work for, so I'll be adding two to three more hours a day to my work schedule.

This is absolutely insane.

I'm holding things down, though. We have about a month left in the summer session of school (MTU), and I'm getting pretty good grades so far. I hope I can keep that up.

Insane.

Has there been a time in your life that you were so busy that the only thing that got you through it was knowing that you only had x weeks left to maintain your stamina before your schedule changed? Did you do it with family too? I know any thing added to my schedule gets taken away from personal time with the fam. That's not good, but then again hopefully they'll be better off down the road for the sacrifice everyone is making now. Is that the right way to think about this?

The Question

What is more important to you?

What you know.

-or-

What you don't know.

I have officially asked over a hundred people this question, giving each one enough time to respond -- anywhere from 10 seconds (a shake of his or her head and a, "that's too deep") to over an hour complete with personal, intimate experiences. I might add that every person I asked was a complete stranger to me prior to my introduction.

I entered a random group of people at a restaurant or bar over the past couple weeks and hit one person from the group with the question. I'll tell you the popular response in an upcoming post. I will also tell you stories of the side-effects of pursuing such a strange inquiry as a complete stranger. You might be in for a surprise. I know I was (and am). As a heads up, people want to talk. Everyone wants to talk. People have been waiting for someone to approach them and ask them their opinion. It's just as easy as asking a question on a blog, but somehow you understand the emotional convictions much more easily.

Poll: Hell

Closed Poll: God (The Results Are In)

Poll: Which statement is closest to describing your views:

	Answer Text	Votes	%
	One God exists. We can not fathom God in His entirety, but we have His perfect word, The Bible.	6	46%
	God exists as the one, supreme being that all religions point toward.	4	31%
	God exists not as a personal being but as a supernatural cosmic energy.	1	8%
	God exists, but we don't understand the evidence yet.	1	8%
	God might exist, but that answer is undeterminable.	1	8%
	God does not exist.	0	0%
	God might exist, but we don't have testable evidence.	0	0%
	Several gods exist. They play a direct role in human affairs.	0	0%
		13

The results from the poll: God, conducted since May 28, 2008 are in, and the poll is officially closed.  A majority of my blog visitors are of the opinion that we know much about God, namely, that God is revealed through the bible or that all religions point to a moderate variation of that God.  Of the thirteen voters, ten fall into this category (77%, if you're into numerology).

The Do Not Call List

I work for a research firm.  I conduct telephonic interviews with respondents across the country.  I'm the guy who calls your house just as you're sitting down for dinner.  I'm the guy to whom you insist you are a legally protected member of the "do not call list," and you will inevitably slam your phone down in disgust before I have the opportunity to explain that market research is exempt from any such list.

These past couple months I've been focusing on political opinions.  I spent two weeks talking to Texans about Texas.  I spent a week talking to farmers in Oklahoma about the federal government.  This week I'm talking to residents of the Land of Lincoln -- Illinois, the state of my birth.

There is another side to the story.  Not everyone is irate that you've called their home to drill them on politics.  Certainly there are a good many people who get off on cussing me out or belittling my career choice.  Most of these people will just hang up on me without saying a word, but I've discovered that there are closer to three kinds of respondents.  I mentioned the first group -- the busybodies who feel catching up on soaps is more important than voicing an opinion.

The second classification of people are grateful that they were chosen (usually at random) to officially voice their opinions.  These people are often just as pleasant with me after the forty-minute survey as they were before they realized I had more than just two quick questions.  (As an aside, most people will ask midway, "how long is this going to take?" or "I thought this was going to be short.")  It's funny that unless they specifically ask me up front, I don't suggest that it's going to be short and sweet.

The third group of people are is distinct, and I can smell them before I finish dialing their number.  These people, a majority are men, don't have opinions.  They have facts, and they insist that I agree with them each step of the way -- something that would be immediate cause for dismissal from my employment; I'm not allowed to offer opinions or deviate from the script except to keep them engaged in the process.

One person I interviewed about five months ago, in an unrelated poll to the few I already mentioned, was hesitant to take the survey.  I knew immediately that he was "one of those third group people."  Forgive my judgement, but when you use a single script to talk to hundreds of different people, you learn very quickly how things are going to roll with each call.  The surveys I give are geared toward finding out the respondent's general stance toward people and issues.  The first set of questions generally has nothing to do with politics, in particular, and is used to assess their attitude toward and experience in the world.  So when I asked, "Please rate these people on a scale of one to ten, one being you do not like the person at all, and ten is you hold them in the highest regard -- the first is 'insurance salesmen'," you can imagine the response I got.

"What does this have to do with politics?"

I wanted to offer the explanation that it was a neutral assessment of his experiences, but I am not permitted to interject.  It just wouldn't be professional.

The man continued, "I do not judge people, and I will not judge people.  I will have to give the insurance salesman a neutral five."

I told him that I would have to read each name -- that we couldn't skip over the section.  The next couple questions were, "Preachers, Investors, Secretaries, Students..."

Each question got the same response, "Five.  I don't judge people."

"Five.  I don't judge people."

"Five. I don't judge people."

You get the point.  Finally he interrupted, "What does this have to do with politics?!  I am not interested in your tactics to persuade me to rate people.  They are hard-working people, and you're going to sit there on your ass and call me up when I'm sweating blood to earn just enough money to pay my phone bill?  You're going to ask me what I think of Preachers?  Are you serious, buddy?  Are you serious?!  I was told this would be about politics, not people.  You, sir, are a liar!  The worst of them, too, because quite frankly you were uninvited into my home.  You are doing a great disservice to your country, boy.  Let me ask you something.  Have you ever considered the military?  Maybe you could get an education.  Are you even educated beyond the eighth grade?!  Don't you call my home and tell me that I have to judge people in order to give an opinion.  I suggest you find something worthwhile to do with your life, and don't you ever...   EVER.  call my house again."

(click)

"Yes, sir."

Conformity

Do you know what I value, in practice, more than anything else I can think of?

Uniqueness.

It just dawned on me this morning that this is my motivation for most things I do.  I can not conform... for long.

When it was suggested to me that I play some sports like the rest of the boys, I didn't say, "no."  I just learned to play the piano better.

When my friends in sixth grade made a gay boy cry, I befriended that boy.  I couldn't see his "gayness" for his kindness.  I had heard a bunch of rowdy boys picking on him before class one day, and as I pulled my chair up to my desk behind his, he put his head down and started sobbing.  He lifted it up, yelling, "F*ck!  F*ck!  F*ck!" slamming his fists on his desk and snapping a pencil.  I said, "It's okay, Richard.  I'm you're friend."  He turned around, quivering, "I hate myself."  Sure enough, when the teacher arrived to the classroom, everyone was eager to inform Mr. Stoetzer that "Richard swore three times!"  The mob had utter satisfaction at seeing Richard hauled away by his ear to the Principal's office -- not for being gay, which was known by everybody -- but for saying the forbidden "F-word."  As silence fell in anticipation of the footsteps coming back down the hall after a few moments, I mumbled the same F-word Richard had, because he was using the only word unique enough to express his frustrations.  I hadn't known Richard was gay until someone said, "You know, your friend is gay... are you a faggot too?"  I said, "no."  At that point in time I didn't even know I was straight.  My sixth-grade mind wasn't geared toward sexuality.

Be good.  Go to Sunday school on Sunday morning, go to church three times a week, smile, read your bible, pray.  I knew the rules and thought them all good things.  I was not against conforming to God.  But when I went to church, I wore noticeably strange clothes.  Maybe I needed attention, although I had always been quite shy.  I wanted to be unlike people to an acceptable degree -- acceptable to me, that is.  When I'd pray in secret, I'd talk to God for an hour about my life and people.  I didn't have cookie-cutter prayers as a child.  I would never sing the melody -- I'd always go for alto before my voice changed, and tenor after.  I wanted to be unique, because I wanted diversity.  I couldn't conform, because I wanted to explore.

When Corey, Brian, Jay, or Toby writes on their blog, I like to find an angle that is different than theirs, because I crave uniqueness over exploration.  I crave creativity of any kind at the expense of class and tactfulness.

I know I won't be remember as a super-creative guy.  I won't be remember for my uniqueness.  But I know I'll be remembered.  I was the guy who "was different."  An oddball.  "That guy's weird."  Hey, they're talking about me.

I'm easy to figure out -- predictable.  It's the absolute geek in me that keeps me marching along this agonizingly mundane routine I have chosen, but if there is a chance someone will notice, I won't conform.

I think people who are taboo in some area of their lives get cheated.  They get dumped on and harassed by the status quo.  I'd rather be weird for the sake of friendship than cool for the temptation of popularity.  The difference is merely the size of my audience.

What's your motivation?

Poll: God

You may subscribe to the results of this poll as an RSS feed.

The Dilemma

I want to tell you about an ancient symbol.  Appearing on artifacts from 1000 BC, this symbol, meaning "to be good," has been used in cultures all over the world for the past three thousand years as a token of luck and well-being.

My friend, this symbol was hijacked, and I am grieved.  Today, for those who are not aware of its otherwise pleasant history, the symbol has a very dark meaning.  It represents communism at its worst -- German National Socialism.

I would hesitate to house an ancient artifact that had the swastika embossed upon it.  I am certain that people would question my reasons for wanting to display it with pride.  Even if I had the opportunity to explain that China, England, Greece, India, and many other countries have viewed the symbol with respect, the overwhelming new meaning given to it by the actions of Germany in World War II would trump any other modern purpose for it -- aside from being in a museum or archaeology lab where it is protected under the intents of study.

What can I do?

Should I push to educate my field of influence about its original meaning?

Should I concede that the actions of evil people have retroactively destroyed the symbol for generations that preceded?

Should I develop a new symbol for the old meaning of well-being?

I'm just afraid that if I start using the symbol I will be overpowered by white supremacists.   As one person, I can not ensure that educated people will not get sidetracked with the symbol's new (original) implementation by the influences of all its other meanings unless I am fundamental about it's modern use.

Should I concede to those extremists who hold to an evil meaning of the symbol for themselves?  Am I trying to hijack their evolved meanings?  I'm not sure my meaning could tolerate co-existence of other meanings.  Do I really have to respect the evil?  Should I ignore it?  Should I embrace it as diverse?  Should I fight against it?

Any help would be appreciated,

gary

Unanswered Questions

Pascal's wager is tricky, because as I have demonstrated, I can push and pull the results to become whatever I choose. All things considered, Pascal's wager is no wager at all. It's a scam. Lock up your wallet, hide the purses. Don't gamble with pascal, and don't gamble with God's existence. It's unproductive.

In my search for God I am willing to approach it with the scientific model I have been explaining these past two posts. Evidence-based. Later this week I would like to post about evidence, and you might be surprised as to what I have discovered.

- The Fool: I Bet

I have plowed through some tough concepts head-on.  This is both an exciting process and a painful one.  Any reader of this blog could go back through more than half of my posts and say, "What about this?  What about that?  You were so sure.  Do you always change your mind so easily?"

I do change my mind.  Permit me that, reserving judgement.  But these changes aren't all-inclusive for one, and they're not over night.  If my free time is spent doing hardly a think more than thinking about a certain philosophy or theology, perhaps these changes I express represent the same changes everyone makes.  You're just catching the results at an accelerated pace because of my particular selection of books and sheer amount of time devoted to the topics.

One thing about atheism and evolution that makes me very uncomfortable is something I am certain exists through evidence -- something that is excluded from these humanist models.  Can anyone guess what it is?  I've posted about this very topic many times in the past several years.

Consciousness.

Consciousness is a puzzle to science -- which is not to say that its source is undiscoverable.  Please make the distinction between consciousness as evidence for creation and complexity as evidence for it.  Complexity, ordered in such a way that we see in our own bodies, is something explained quite nicely by modern evolutionary science.  The idea that complexity is the result of a greater complexity who designed it is an illusion.  We can set those arguments aside for now.

I think a big question in any atheist's or evolutionist's mind should be, "what is to be discovered with our evidence of consciousness?  What is consciousness?!"

I think Corey has been getting uncomfortably close to bringing this up in his brief rebuttals on this blog.  His argument, for example, is that there seems to be something more than natural, biological processes going on:

Do homo sapiens [out of need for survival] have to stop and consider anything, write Hamlet, or build a completely useless machine to fly to other planets.

Although his argument was about complexity, what kind of conversation would we have if these were thoughts about consciousness?  Here is what else he had to say, but here I substitute the phrase human complexity with consciousness.

All this rises out of our need to drink, eat, hump, and survive in general? Really? There is nothing anomalous about consciousness? Nothing?

And with that, we have a case.  An argument that science has not answered.  I'm not sure to what degree science is attempting to answer this one.  I've heard, "It doesn't matter how consciousness came about through evolution, but we know it did, because we have it now."

We know so little about how consciousness evolves within a single person -- let alone the idea that consciousness didn't even exist at one time and was borne of the natural, raw elements.

I've been asking myself for years:  What must happen to make an unconscious thing conscious?  I'm not talking about unconscious in the sense of having lost consciousness.  I'm asking the question from the perspective that consciousness had never existed.

What is it, and how does biological evolution answer, "Why am I aware of myself?"

I'm sure that if any of my fundamentalist readers were courageous enough to read this post, and I have no doubts it will happen, I wonder if they feel a tinge of disappointment -- let down that I haven't fully ascribed to atheism or evolution even though I use those labels.  Maybe they are misguidedly excited at the glimmer of hope for my soul, demonstrated in these simple words about things for which I stand:

I might be wrong.

All For Us?

Raise your hand if you think evolution teaches that humans came from monkeys.

No takers?

Isn't that what we've been taught?  I know I've been programmed to think that the idea of coming from a hairy primate that throws poo is a direct slap in the face of God.  Fearfully and wonderfully made, right?  I'm no poo-thrower.

The truth is, the idea that we came from monkeys is a lie that comes from the heart of the pulpits.  Evolutionists don't think humans are an evolution of monkeys.  Evolutionists think that both monkeys and homo sapiens came from a common ancestor that was neither a monkey nor a human.

Humans are not more evolved than monkeys -- and for that matter, humans are not more evolved than birds, dogs, caterpillars, and flies.  We view ourselves as more advanced because we measure "advanceness" by our own needs.  We need buildings, so we build them because we can, and we view other animals as less advanced because they don't fell wood.

How advanced is an ant?  Quite advanced by it's own measure.  An ant would find the practicality in a human to be -- shall we say -- lacking.  A human is not efficient when it comes to moving small particles of dirt and sand to build a mound called home.  Quite useless are our stubby fingers to them.  How many countless sensory features are available to an ant who lives in the ground compared to humans?  What does a vibration mean to an ant -- one that a human could not possibly detect for itself?  Yet, we prefer emotions, talking, and skyscrapers because they are useful to us.

Consider the ant.  Consider any living thing and wonder with me how it is a complex thing.  Are we merely different?  Or should we just put on the blinders and keep marching around as though it is all for us...?