"On the fourth day God created the potato and it was good. On the fifth day didst he fry it in a deep and seething pool of oil from the tree of olives adding thence salt from the sea unto the whole and it was indeed better still."
A recent reading of Cristopher Hitchen's "God is not Great" has got me thinking about our heavenly father again and seeing everything in the context of proving or disproving his existence.
Yesterday at twilight a mother raccoon and her two kits crossed through my yard as fireflies luminesced all around me. The beauty of this scene, were I more devout, would surely have confirmed my beliefs in a supreme being but being an agnostic I was just happy to be witnessing a confluence of events guided by eons of evolution.
Today it's french fries. We all love them, I've been all over the world, I know this: Everybody loves a good fry! More than a husband's love for his wife, a mother's for her child, or God for his flock, our devotion to the french fry is perhaps the best example of unconditional love there is!
Empty, starchy calories, artery clogging fat, and add-ons such as gravy, cheese, salt, and mayonnaise, french fries are the wife beater of side dishes. They are terrible for us, damaging to us, and yet we keep coming back for more and love them just as much each time we dig in.
If God exists then he made them knowing full well that they'd be irresistible and even deadly. Isn't life hard enough already? Aren't ther enough tests, trials, and tribulations. Couldn't he have decided that fries would be if not good for us then at least benign?
Let's try a thought experiment (gedankenexperiment) a la Einstein. You're driving along having just stopped at a drive thru for lunch. You were very hungry and you know that you'll need every ounce of your McTrio to get you through the afternoon as you devour the burger and fries. You're on the freeway now, finished your meal but not entirely full when you reach into the bottom of the bag to check for the so called bonus fries. To your delight there are several but the biggest and juiciest somehow falls between your feet on it's way towards your mouth. You insinctively reach down to grab it, your attention wavers, and you steer your car right into the path of an oncoming 18 wheeler killing you instantly. You have died because of a single french fry.
Does God have such a sense of irony that he would allow one of his prize creations to perish so pointlessly. If this was a test and you obviously failed miserably does that condemn you to eternal damnation and if so what kind of God is that??? Is there a divine french fry clause that we don't know about?
Perhaps this more than plausible scenario indicates the lack of a God or a heaven and shows death to be an inevitable process that carries no moral weight....this is where I start to get confused and anxious, maybe some more fries would calm me down. In the meantime you may want to view the aforementioned Cristopher Hitchens and Rev. Al Sharpton debating this very topic but from an angle that's significantly lower in calories: http://www.slate.com/id/2166143?nav=tap3
2 comments:
hello,blob a serious question- (great in-depth article about the whole god
- french-fry controversy by the way... nobody covers that territory better than you(!!!) you speak goddish as well as he does, and they say he's the best(!)here's the question-why is adam so much more buff than the deity who made him? wouldn't you think that he (god), having created literally millions of totally hot babes would want to be cock- of- the- walk of that particular hen house? why would he let himself go like that? trim your beard and wash your hair at least(!!) this is a perfect god(???) in spite of his small weinie, adam was obviously gettin'lot's of sweet action(!)religion makes NO sense!
Another fine point from the awesome and almighty mikexxxster. I am a great believer in what I like to call, the cosmic joke. One of these inside jokes (the oringals!) is obviously that God would make Adam look like such a sweet package and then leave him with such a tiny... well, package. Big laughs all around, I guess, from the big man upstairs. I tell you, the buxom virgin maries, venuses and salomes whom I identify with (just physically of course.. well maybe there's a little salome in me.. on some days of the month anyway) would not be too keen on hooking up with little Adam. No wonder they're so keen on martyrdom-- beam me up God!
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