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Teachings of Reality’s Only True Non-Existent God

Author: Reality's Only True Non-Existent God
Published: San Francisco, 13,000,000,000 BC

You want to know what really happened in the beginning?

Nothing became something, and a universe began forming for no goddamn reason.

And if you don’t believe that, you’re one of the most deluded people on the planet. (Even more than those fuckers who think 9/11 actually took place on September 11th.)

I mean, think about it:

Why would God create a universe like ours?—one with a McStarbucks on every corner, a Republican just about everywhere you look, and a deadly natural disaster every few days or so.

And why doesn’t God ever drop by and say, “Hello,” or, “Stop killing each other for no good reason?”

Is it because he’s a Republican ninja who loves wars, McStarbucks, and an occasional hurricane?

Or is it because he doesn’t exist?

And if God simply created the universe for his own amusement, do you think he would’ve made it so fucking predictable?

I mean, the earth has been spinning and revolving for God doesn’t know how long, and people have been more or less going to work, getting married, and fighting wars since the day Adam and Eve weren’t born.

Don’t you think God would’ve thrown in some twists and turns, like an M. Night Shyamalan movie, or an episode of General Hospital?

Do you actually think M. Night Shyamalan is cleverer than God?

Or is he simply cleverer than a soulless, randomly generated first cause?

Believing in God only pisses off Nature—and being that Nature is real and God isn’t, we shouldn’t hesitate to disbelieve with all our heart. (Take that, you triangle number stacking motherfucker!)

And even if God is real, he probably doesn’t give a fuck about you.

I mean, let me put it this way: celebrities like Jack Nicholson might give a zillionth of a fuck about you—and God is a jillion times as famous Jack Nicholson. That means God only gives a zilljillionth of a fuck about you (, or maybe two zilljillionths of a fuck if you are Jack Nicholson).

So the next time you’re about to offer sacrifices to a god who probably doesn’t even exist in the first place, just picture Jack Nicholson swimming in a pool of hookers and hundreds—or better yet, picture God sitting around on a cloud sofa, about send in another earthquake or blizzard.


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