GOD AS AN ATHIEST...

...is sitting looking at the white oblong of his empty blog post...not unlike the black empty space he was compelled to fill when he first became conscious of his boredom. I know this because I created him. Just as he created me. Two solipsistic souls doubting the others existence but each harbouring a niggling feeling of being watched. Nose-picking, arse-scratching and the arbitrary dispensation of generosity to one cause at the expense of another tends to exacerbate this feeling...Not to mention uncreative masturbation; although this last desperate act of ennui may have been the precursor to the creation of the Universe: a knee-jerk reaction to the wasting of Divine seed...Although, that very act itself, considering the total lack of stimuli, would have been the greatest feat of imagination ever performed.

Of course, this is only supposition. I only created him. A figment I came up with millions of years ago to explain why I was suddenly conscious of the fact that I was getting a bit bored banging unreceptive gibbons on the plains of Africa.There was a definite yearning for something a little less hirsute. A bit more curvaceous and less malodorous. Marilyn Monroe sporting a Brazilian emerging from a bed of honeysuckle was probably an image too far, back then. But Playboy, anti-perspirant and vague notions on the benefits of Imac were definitely wedged into my DNA somewhere on the plains of the Serengeti. Existential angst had arrived. What in ? name was I doing living with a gang of gibbons who hadn't learned how to appreciate foreplay or even comb their hair. I was suffering. And God was born. An apelike but fragrant God bearing, over millennia, an anthropomorphically uncanny resemblance to Norma Jean Baker.

It would be a valid criticism of this blog for anyone idle enough to cast a weary eye through it's content to comment on it's paradoxical nature. All I can promise you is that albumen came before the yolk encased in the calcium deposit that made the chickens arse sore. Trying to look for first causes can lead to philosophical toothache and metaphysical arthritis. Just take my word for it! I invented God. And He doesn't believe in me. How could He. He isn't real. You aren't real. You exist because I exist. The Bible, the Koran, the Torah exist along with Freud, Jung and The idiot's guide Buddhism because I got bored banging gibbons. And you know what?
Sometimes. When I'm struggling with the idea that at the centre of nothing there has to be something and at the centre of that....Well, I sometimes miss sitting in the crook of a tree, unselfconsciously scratching my testicles, surrounded by my harem of gibbons.

Till next time