I was born in the early 80s, just before the savings & loan crisis. My mom, a devout though inactive member of the Corporation of the President of the Church of the Kolobians had a high-paying government job. My dad, a burned-out hippie with Methodist roots didn’t work because he didn’t have to.

There are a few things that stand out to me about my early childhood. The sun was brighter, the sky was bluer, the grass was greener, and the church was true.

Which church, you ask? I’m glad you asked. There are only two churches, after all. The church of the Kolobians, and the church of the devil. That’s what I was taught. That’s what I believed. And if I happened to be standing at the pulpit in primary and told to bear my testimony, that’s what I “knew.”

I learned that the devil was crafty. He could make it seem to a young, impressionable, naïve kid like myself that there are all kinds of different beliefs systems in the world, all with negatives and positives. He could make it seem like there were many paths of truth, many views of the world. But that’s not what I “knew” to be true. The book of Mormon said all those other churches, belief systems, and world views were just different classrooms in the great & spacious building, the church of the devil.

Boy did I feel good knowing that I was so valiant in the pre-mortal life that I was born a fairly rich, white man, in the church of the Kolobians. This was something my mom continued to drill into me from day one. You’re so lucky to be fairly rich, white, male, and born into the one true church of god.

Some quick highlights from childhood: we didn’t go to church much; my dad converted for my mom due to pressure from my grandma; my brothers and I got baptized when it was time, then went inactive again; we moved from place to place as my mom got promoted.

Eventually my mom had had her fill of being the “breadwinner”, which for a female spirit from the star system Kolob was tantamount to heresy, so she quit her job, took her retirement money, bought a house in a small Arizona town and told my dad “your turn.” This was the beginning of the end for my parents.

Enter my teenage years: I didn’t get along with any of the kolobian kids. They were uber-annoying. When I turned 12 I thought my mom would burst seeing me get the moronic penishood, I mean Aaronic Priesthood. I was Deacon’s president in no time. She could just not get enough. Of course I had questions about gospel doctrine. A lot of things didn’t add up.

The one kid I did get along with from church (and who later saved my life) and I would always ditch church and go across the street for pizza and coke. We asked each other the kinds of questions that eventually occur to reasonable kids who have a semi-decent education. But we learned quickly that those kinds of questions shouldn’t be asked out loud. It was a sign of weakness. That was satan “getting in.”

Alright, now we get to the good stuff. The masturbation question:

Bishop: Are you keeping yourself morally chaste?

Kolobian: Yep.

Bishop: Do you touch yourself?

Kolobian: What do you mean?

Bishop: I mean, do you arouse yourself?

Kolobian: You mean, do I jack off?

Bishop: Yes, that’s what I meant.

Kolobian: Yeah, it’s awesome.

Bishop: (red in the face) No, it’s not. (yadda yadda yadda you’re not worthy to hold the priesthood yadda yadda yadda you need to tie your hands to the bed yada yada yada can’t pass the sacrament yada yada yada I’ll be calling you every day this week to see how you’re doing etc)

So of course I’m shocked and embarrassed, but mostly angry because masturbation is great. It feels awesome, it doesn’t hurt anybody, it’s exciting (especially for a 12-year old). My mom asked me how my interview went and I told her everything.

What she said changed my life forever: “oh honey, the same thing happened to your brothers. You just don’t need to tell the bishop everything. That’s personal between you and heavenly father.”

Whoa. Wait a second. Back up. Doesn’t the bishop ask me these questions as god’s agent? Isn’t lying to the bishop the same as lying to god? Mom’s response: “no dear. It’s not the same. The bishop is a man and he’s doing the best he can, but the church is wrong about touching yourself. Heavenly Father doesn’t mind. It’s not that big a deal.”

I think it’s important to say at this point that I didn’t take the conversation any further than that. The reason for this is simple: I was happy I could keep masturbating without any guilt. I was also happy that my mom had by back. I was even happier that she told me that smug little man in the big office was wrong about something. He was such a dick. (no pun intended)

But this experience at such a crucial time in my development, on such an important topic, really changed the way I viewed the world. I still believed the church was true, of course. But it had lost something. People who have been born in the church know what I’m trying to communicate when I say the church had a magical quality to it growing up. It was something different. It was up on a pedestal. It couldn’t be compared with other churches. It couldn’t be compared with anything.

That was not the case anymore.

Skipping through my high school years: I was a good student but I ditched school all the time. We rarely went to church. I refused to get my eagle scout. I had a steady girlfriend. She was not a kolobian. My mom liked her anyway. I graduated and then went to college. I had no plans to go on a mission.

Now I’m in college: my older brother who was always into Anime and wanted more than anything to go to Japan on his mission… you guessed it: went to Japan on his mission. I thought he was dumb but whatever. More power to him.

My other brother who was always into politics and wanted more than anything to go to Washington D.C. on his mission… you guessed it: went o Washington D.C. on his mission. Now, this brother putting in his papers did a real number on me. A) he didn’t go to church any more than I did. B) he never really talked about wanting to serve a mission. C) he was all-of-a-sudden in your face crazy fanatical Joseph Smith is the coolest guy since the Fonze and if you’re not on his team we have nothing to talk about. Seriously, it was over-the-top.

I felt left behind.

I did. I felt left behind. That’s real talk. Not only did I feel left behind, but I began to felt like I was a failure. Nobody had been around to congratulate me on “not going” on a mission. And that’s when it happened.

All the church-sponsored brainwashing and indoctrination slowly crept up on me at once. It was perfect. I mean, if the Nazi party had slowed down and used Kolobian brainwashing techniques to cultivate a few more generations of loyal followers before their attempt at world domination we’d all be speaking german right now.

I was 21. I was single. I was financially independent. I had been living on my own for 3 years. And I was guilty. Oh, the guilt! I could hear them talking: “oh yes, kolobian is the only one that didn’t serve a mission. We thing it’s because x or y, possibly even z! Sshhh, here comes his mother.”

So I prayed. Let me clarify. I praaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyeeeeeedddddd. I laid down at the feet of Elohim and begged him to forgive me for my levity, laziness, and lethargy. I prayed for peace. And guess what? I felt peace. I knew Elohim was there. I knew he was listening. But more importantly, I knew he forgave me.

I walked around my lonely apartment as if seeing things for the first time. And then it hit me: go back and ask him if Joseph Smith was a prophet! Go! So I went.

My testimony: I went back to the sacred laundry room, laid back down, and asked Elohim if Joseph Smith was really a prophet. (I skipped the BOM and church because I knew it all rested on sloppy Joe)

Nothing happened.

I prayed harder.

Nothing happened.

I prayed harder and longer.

Nothing happened again.

So I did what any sensible kolobian born into the church who had just had a cleansing prayer experience would do: I stopped tempting god and remembered that I already “knew” it was true. That was good enough for me. It was time to serve a mission.

I moved back home so I could cram for the mission. I started going to my home ward where everybody was just oh-so happy that lil’ kolobian had found his way back to the 90 & 9 and they slaughtered some fatted calves for supper. This was a dangerous time for me and my ego. I really underestimated how far these people would go to make sure I served a mission.

The patriarchal blessing: it was time to do what every 14-year old girl in the church does, namely, find out what tribe I’m from and which gifts of the spirit I was “blessed with.” It was a snowy day and it was a half-hour drive from my town to the patriarch’s house. He had just been called and I was to be his second blessing ever. This was testimony-affirming for me. He’d had a chance to get over his nervousness with some other guinea pig, and he wasn’t so used to giving these things that he’d mix in somebody else’s stuff with mine.

The long and short of it is this: it talked about everything leading up to my mission. It said I would be called to a “special part of the world.” That’s it. It didn’t talk about spiritual gifts. And it never, ever, not even once, mentioned being married, being married in the temple, or having children. It was as if the mission would be the last thing I would ever do. Basically, I thought I was going to die on my mission. Or rather, I was blessed to be a martyr. Or so I saw it.

My mom and I talked about it at length. “Yes, honey.” She said. “Everybody’s patriarchal blessing talks about marriage.” Well then why doesn’t mine? “I don’t know, honey.” She replied. “we just have to have faith that the lord knows what he’s doing.”

That was my mom. If she were Abraham that angel wouldn’t have had time to stop her from sacrificing Isaac. “What? I didn’t have to kill him? But you said… Oh. Well, why didn’t you come sooner?”

Let me also say at this point that I was obsessed with Israel. I had been taking Hebrew in college. I had studied all things near-east. I was much more into the bible than any kolobian scriptures. It’s important that you should know this before I tell you this next part. The next part is the nail in the sure place.

The bishop’s interview: I was called into the bishop’s office (who had been my old scoutmaster) and told to sit down. He wanted to share something with me. Something sacred. Something I couldn’t tell anybody. He wanted to share a revelation he’d received concerning me. OoOoOoO. Concerning me?! What an ego-boost.

He asked me what I knew about Jerusalem. Me?! What do you want to know? I started telling him about the things I’d been studying, the Hebrew, basically all the stuff I’d been telling everybody else in the ward since I’d come home that he was pretending not to know about. Hmmm.

Then he tells me, with a straight face, in the bishop’s office: “Kolobian, it has been revealed to me that you will be one of the two witnesses who will be martyred in the streets of the holy city as foretold by John the Beloved.”

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…………………………………………. Really?

For a 21-year old this was pretty heavy. But I was kolobian. I’d had visions before. I was told my whole life that I would do great things. And oh, yeah… my patriarchal blessing already told me I’d die on my mission, right? I just didn’t know that my mission would be something I could read about in the bible!

The mission call: So.. it was time. I’d done the interviews, taken the physicals, gone to the dentist, filled out and submitted the paperwork. It was only a matter of time until one of the apostles (hopefully Eyring) would show up at my house and ask me to accompany him back to Salta-lay-ka-sitty.

Eyring didn’t come. An envelope did. My mother was beaming. Wow, it felt pretty thick. I couldn’t open it at home. It had to be a grand gesture. We jumped in the car and drove an hour and a half to the Mesa temple so we could open it outside the house of the lord.

Now remember, my older brother wanted to go to Japan and he went to Japan. My other brother wanted to go to D.C. and he went to D.C. I wanted to go to Israel and by god, I was going to Israel.

“Elder Kolobian, you have been called to the California – San Diego mission. You will be speaking Spanish.”

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……………………………. There must be some mistake. I checked the name again, and the address. It was right. Hmmm.. bishop, you got some ‘splaining to do….

My bishop didn’t miss a beat. “It sounds like a preparatory mission to me. You’ll probably be there for a few months, maybe a year, just to get ready for your true calling.”

Oh, a preparatory mission. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Way to stroke my ego bishop!

The Temple: one thing was for sure. The Temple would change my life. Although I had subjected myself to a fair amount of “anti-mormon” literature I had always avoided the temple because of an experience I’d had when I was 13. I had a dream/vision that I was standing on the edge of something talking to someone while looking down on planet earth. It was a really cool dream. I still remember every detail, just not about what was said. After I related this story to my mom her reply was: “just wait until you get to the temple. That dream will make so much more sense.” So I was like, ok cool. Can’t wait.

Turns out I could wait after all.

So my first visit to the temple wasn’t scary as I’m sure many people’s experience is. Mine was empty, void of any feeling, just “meh.” It’s not sensationalistic but I’ll recount it anyway:

As soon as we went in and I gave my recommend to the sentinel and he nodded me through I was like, “here it is. It’s happening.” Those first few steps into the temple were the most spiritual steps I’d ever taken. I met up with my escort (the bishop/scoutmaster/ego stroker) and he walked me over to a desk with a computer on it! Ok, whatever. It’s the 21st century and everything. They handed me a name tag or something to put on my suit to show that I was a first-timer. Then we headed over to the locker room to get down to business. That’s when I saw it: the cash register.

Not only was there a cash register, we were heading straight for it. I kept thinking I’m a student. I don’t have any income right now. I shouldn’t have to pay any tithing. Come to find out, laundry isn’t cheap. I always thought it was, but it turns out it’s not. If you don’t want to pay Beehive Clothing (the monopoly) for your temple clothes you had to “rent some.” Ok, I’d like some temple clothes please. No, my pants are black. No, my tie is blue. 8 and half. What’s this? A temple packet? Don’t open it yet? Ok, I won’t. How much? (looking at bishop who grabbed for his wallet) Nobody told me I had to bring money to the temple. What is this, a corporation?

Anyway, the old men in the locker room were cranky and acted like they couldn’t be bothered to orient me where to go. And why are there locks on the lockers? Whatever, keep moving. The temple is perfect, the people aren’t.

Put what on? That’s just a sheet. Take off my underwear? Totally naked? Alright.

The Initiatory: this old fuddy-duddy was shaking from head-to-toe. He looked like Gordon B. Hinckley on that video in Jerusalem, the one where he looks like a bobble head ‘cause his head is shaking so bad. Yes, he touched me. No, he didn’t grab me. But yes, my penis was grazed. Grazed, not grabbed. There’s a difference. Yes, I understand it’s not part of the initiatory. Yes, I understand he was shaky. No, I’m not sure he enjoyed it. But I was touched.

Look, he said “loins.” I just figured he was supposed to touch it. But really I have no idea where your loins are anyway.

I was so hyped to find out I was getting a new name. I promised I wouldn’t reveal it, except at a certain place in the temple that would be shown to me. It was Dan. Really? Dan? Oh well. I knew enough to know it had Masonic roots, but I stuck a pin in it. We’ll come back to it later.

The Endowment: Wow, my mom looks like she’s going trick or treating in that gown. Ghosts are popular this year, I guess. Hmm, why is there a movie screen in the temple? And why is that guy just standing there looking so smug and proud of himself? They’re turning down the lights. I wish I’d grabbed some popcorn.

Do I wish to withdraw? Shouldn’t you ask that AFTER you say what’s about to happen? I look around, nobody gets up. Then they say if anybody has forgotten the “new name” they should go outside and be reminded. I was like, “whoa. Whoever has that calling must be super spiritual. They can just dial into kolob and get somebody’s new name like that?” Yes, I know now that everybody has that name. Dan isn’t special, after all. Even if it does have Masonic roots.

Ok, every five seconds I hear the phase “we will go down.” I’m 21 for crying out loud. If you’re going to change something in the temple you can leave the penalties and the 5 points of fellowship and stop saying “we will go down.” Do you really want every guy under 30 to be thinking about blowjobs in the temple? Just say “we will visit the earth again” or something benign. We will go down elohim. We will go down Jehovah. Michael, let us go down. Enough already. I think I’ve made my point.

And why does Lucifer have an apron on? And why don’t Elohim and Jehova? Stick a pin in it. We’ll come back to it later.

The first token of the Aaronic Priesthood: yeah, I’ve seen masons shake hands like that. No big deal. Raise my arm to the square? Wow, that dude in front of me keeps checking his arm to make sure it’s 90 degrees. I wonder if that matters.

The second token of the Aaronic Priesthood: not very creative. And I know this if my first time, don’t you have these two tokens mixed up? Stick a pin in it. The sign is funny.

The first token of the melchizedek priesthood, or sign of the nail: why did that guy have to press his fingers into my hand so hard? Jesus, now I know how jesus felt.

The second token of the melchizedek priesthood, or sure sign of the nail: ok, there must be something significantly symbolic about jesus being a fatty and needing extra nails in his arms to keep himself up on the cross, but it’s lost on me. Stick a pin in it.

Prayer circle: I have to go? Really? Ok. That’s what they do with the names? How efficient. Yeah, we don’t look like a cult at all.

The veil: health in the navel. Marrow in the bone. Doesn’t marrow have blood in it? Stick a pin in it. Yes, I want power forever. Yes, for my posterity, too. I don’t think I’m going to have any, though. I can go through now? Great. Your breath stinks. Have a tic tac, lord.

The celestial room: I look at my bishop and ask him if that’s it. He says yes, but that I won’t begin to understand for a very long time. I told him it seemed pretty simple to me. I expected more. He said the real temple experience is receiving revelation. Try not to take everything at face value. I said ok, do I really need to know these handshakes, names, and signs to get into heaven? He said yes. How can I not take that at face value?

The mission: I’ll be brief. It didn’t take long before I realized that I’d been had. I didn’t leave the MTC thinking I was on a temporary mission and that I’d soon be going to Jerusalem to fulfill prophecy. I’m only gullible to a point. Once I got to the MTC and met all those 19 year olds from Utah I figured things out pretty quick. Whether you’re a martyr, a light to your brothers and sisters, or guaranteed a brand new pickup truck upon your honorable return, you tell these kids what they want to hear in order to get them to the MTC. The peer pressure will take over from there.

Let me interject something here so that you understand me a little better. Even though the patriarch and the bishop were completely full of shit and I know that now, you have to remember that I believed that I was going to be martyred. It’s dumb, but I believed it. More importantly, however, is that my mom believed it. She believed it and she sent me anyway. It’s crazy to think about now, but my mom just ever so nonchalantly sent me off to my inevitable death. That is what kolobianism can do to a person. Abraham’s got nothing on my mom. She is, I believe, past the point of no return.

Anyway, I learned quickly that the church was in apostacy and that the leaders were not only uninspired, they were actually malicious businessmen looking to make a profit. BUT, I also believed with all my heart that Joseph Smith was a prophet and most importantly, that I had the priesthood. I didn’t give two flying fucks if Gordon (Gollum) Hinckley had the keys or not. The important thing was that I had power from god.

I knew Hinckley had authority. There was little question about that. But I seriously doubted he had power, a distinction I was always quick to make when discussing the state of the church with other kolobians.

Long story short, I enjoyed my mission immensely. Unlike every other male missionary on my mission I didn’t walk around feeling guilty about getting to “know” myself every now and then, and I had no illusions about the so-called inspired leadership of the Mission President (who was actually a douchebag). Even though I’d been in college, I’d also had a steady job, so not having to go to work everyday was amazing. I also wasn’t shy, and I love to argue. So I would approach anyone at anytime and genuinely enjoyed it.

As far as numbers go, I was successful.

There are really only a few relevant experiences that I think are worth sharing: One, my first encounter with a logical, reasonable, amiable atheist. This experience rocked me to the core. I was so good at using the logical fallacy arguments you learn in the MTC that when I was confronted with a master of logic I was reduced to a testimony that I knew for a fact I couldn’t rely on. This was when I first realized that I didn’t really “know” anything that I claimed to “know.” I stuck a pin it.

Another experience is a shouting argument I had with my “inspired” mission president. I won. He knows it. He will never forget it. But he still banished me to a far corner of the mission that I ended up enjoying even more than the beach!

The only other experience I’d like to share is that I healed myself once. That’s it. I won’t go into details, but I knew the kolobian description of the priesthood was bullshit from that point on because as it turns out you can serve yourself after all.

Coming home: Even though I enjoyed my mission I couldn’t wait to get released. Get this mantle off of me. I’m sweating under here. I left on my mission from Arizona. I returned to Utah. During my time in the field my mother had decided to move to Zion. Orem, specifically. The same night I got home I called my mom’s stake president and asked if I could come by the stake building and be released. He said he’d prefer to wait until the next day. I insisted.

He tried to tell me what a good missionary I had been and how proud my mother must be. I told him he didn’t know me and had no idea if I’d been a good missionary or not. He said he felt “impressed” that it was true. I asked again to be released. We went out to dinner afterwards and I didn’t feel like talking at all. I didn’t want to talk about the mission. I didn’t want to talk about anything.

I imagine I felt like a soldier who spent years at war, only to come home and find out the empire he was protecting is actually evil, and that he wasn’t really protecting it, he was spreading its evil influence throughout the world. On the mission I’d felt like it was me & jesus trying to change peoples’ lives. Once I was home I felt dirty. Used. I felt like a sell-out.

I went back to Arizona and tried the single’s ward. That lasted a whole few weeks. Wow. If you’re a kolobian, and you never had any kolobian friends growing up, and then you get thrust into a single’s ward…. Prepare to feel like a 25 year old hanging out with pre-schoolers.

This is when I began the serious, honest, mindful introspection that inevitably leads to atheism. I was not prepared to lie to myself any longer.

Yes, I knew all the problems. I had placed all the evidences against my beliefs on my Zelph Shelf for so long that I could visualize it about the break. I wondered why I even had that shelf at all. I’d spent so much time on FAIR and FARMS. I’d actually spent more time apologizing for the apologists than the doctrine, they were so dishonest with their arguments. I was almost convinced that the FAIR apologists were actually anti-mormons masquerading as apologists. That’s how angry I was at their methods.

All of this, the brainwashing that guilted me into going back to church, the lies I was told to get me on the mission, the obvious monetary agenda of the church and the mission field, the shallowness of the single’s wards, the dishonest methods kolobian apologists were using to respond to legitimate problems with church history & doctrines, finally brought me to a place where I could ask myself “is this all worth it?”

Is it worth it? What is it exactly that is making me go through all this nonsense? What was I doing this for? The short answer: to be a god. The real answer: I’m not sure.

I wanted to be a god. Why did I want to be a god? Because I have a penis. I have a penis, and I’d like to be able to use it after I die, so to speak. That’s really what I was sold growing up. Don’t you want a celestial body? You’ll be able to have sex with your wives forever! Sex without end. Infinite orgasms. I’m not trying to be crude, this is really the promise. And as much as I enjoyed having a penis, I didn’t think it was worth it to be honest with you.

I finally had a chance to focus on the prize of kolobianism. And I realized something: this is a pyramid scheme. I’m involved in a pyramid scheme. A never-ending god-making pyramid scheme. A multi-level god-marketing campaign. Elohim is a scam artist! Or was Elohim scammed himself? That’s the doctrine. He’s just doing what was done before him, right?

Supposedly what I am is an “intelligence.” I’m a discrete unit of consciousness. At some undisclosed point in my existence I was approached by an Exalted Man named Elohim, or one of his agents. I was told that I could be like him, meaning I could have knowledge and a body capable of procreation. And guess what? It feels great!

Me, not knowing any better, signed up with Elohim. That was my first mistake.

He then (according to kolobian doctrine) had sex with one of his wives, and in her celestial tummy she created a spirit body which I was linked into. I was now a discrete unit of consciousness inside a spirit body, and my new home was a glass planet orbiting a giant star called Kolob. Isn’t it wonderful?

Who knows how long he teased me and the other recruits by posturing around in his superior body, exercising his superior intellect and being followed around by his celestial harem. Eventually, everybody was called into a team meeting. There was electricity in the air. The gossip was flying like crazy. It’s time.

Elohim, his wives, his bodyguards, and his servants stood at the front of the meeting and he told us what we needed to do in order to be like him. First, he informed us that Jehova and Michael had created a planet called Earth and planted a garden in it last week. No wonder we hadn’t seen them on Sunday. They must have been exhausted.

Now, Michael is going to take one of his wives down to earth and start making mortal bodies for you to live in. Don’t panic, but you’re going to lose your spirit body for a little while. No, it doesn’t hurt. Well, maybe just a little.

When you’re born you won’t remember ANYTHING. Your memory will be wiped clean. I won’t give you any evidence of my existence, whatsoever. But I still expect you to do whatever I say. You’ve all been studying very hard and you’ve come a long way. Our new training class is beginning soon so we need to make room. It’s time for you all to be tested. I can’t just make you gods and have you terrorizing the multi-verse. This isn’t a Masonic lodge in Nauvoo. We don’t just promote people to promote them. I must make sure you’re going to represent me and my company admirably.

(Elohim looks at his watch, then up at Kolob and shuffles his feet nervously)

Suddenly someone starts pushing through the crowd. It’s Lucifer: Elohim’s prize salesman. He says he’s been reviewing the retention rate of the last 7,000 classes and it’s consistently stayed at under 1% of the class. That means if we follow through with the test as written 99% of us won’t make it. He said that seems a little counter-productive and serious waste of resources.

Jehova, obviously sore from his recent planet-building activities slowly stands up and tells Lucifer not to question the boss, that it sends the wrong message. He said this is how our family’s company has been doing business all along and there’s no reason to change it now.

A lot of people thought it was dumb that only 1% of us would get to be gods and went and stood by Lucifer.

The rest of us did what any smart businessperson would do: we followed the money. That was our second mistake.

Now we’re here. If we do everything we’re supposed to do, if we walk up to every covenant we’ve made in the temple, give all our time, money, and even our very lives to the church, and don’t masturbate even once, the very best we can hope to gain in Elohim’s company is middle-management.

After all, Elohim is the boss. Even if we become gods, and create our own universes with our own planets and promote our own children to gods, all we will be doing is moving Elohim up the pyramid of glory & dominion.

You can’t use magic as a god. That’s not in the program. You can only have sex so many times in a day before it gets monotonous. There’s nothing new to teach your children.

All we will do for the rest of eternity is build schools that teach its students how to be teachers. The teachers, then, build their own schools and teach their students how to be teachers. Then those teachers build their own schools and their own students how to be teachers. It’s teachers teaching how to teach, but never allowing their students to teach anything other than how to teach! Now THAT’S a diploma mill.

What is the point of being a teacher if you can’t teach anything new? What’s the point in having god-like powers if you never really use them? What’s the matter with god anyway? Why does he waste his time with all this?

Oh yeah, I forgot! There’s no evidence that a god exists! (EPIPHANY!)

Now that I think about it, this is exactly the kind of nonsensical bullshit that a man would make up to get people to follow him. Keep your penis, keep your wives, and gain power, glory, and dominion. Just give me 10% of your income until you die.

No thanks.