Monday

Everybody who prays and is thankful to god has one thing in common. They're alive. The ones god decided to kill aren't around to give their opinions of how terrific god is. My guess is that they'd whistle a slightly different tune about how wise god's decision to kill them off was. Of course everyone thinks god's decisions are good ones; they haven't died yet, so it could always get worse, until they can't be thankful any more. Every person is so central to their own faith that if they think, "Hey, god might be killing everyone else but he doesn't want me dead yet. Good call."

When I hear somebody crowing about god's wisdom, I think underneath the oceans and battlefields, and just beyond the treacherous curves in the highway, and under Auschwitz and Lubyanka, there are dead guys who would raise a silent finger in protest.

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