Episode 49 – Partial Transcript
by Heath Enwright and Noah & Lucinda Lugeons
Note: Transcript contains elements that were removed from the episode due to time constraints
Warning: This podcast contains explicit language in three… two… fuck.
Today’s episode of the Scathing Atheist is brought to you by Pro-Scripture Strength Biblenol. Perfect for those biblically inspired headaches. It’s stronger than Prayer-Bayer and longer lasting than Bibliuprofen.
Biblenol; because somehow the Historical Books are even worse than the Pentateuch.
And now, the Scathing Atheist.
It’s January 23rd,
And the extra week before the Superbowl is worse for the NFL than Junior Seau.
I’m Noah Lugeons,
I’m Heath Enwright and from pro-federate enclave New York, New York,
And forcibly de-federate, Podunk, Georgia, this is the Scathing Atheist
On this week’s episode,
We revel in the joy of getting piss drinking and nun fucking in the same news cycle.
We’ll learn how to rape like a Muslim,
And Lucinda will join us to put on our Monocles to read One Chronicles
Beating me to the poem, I see. But first, the diatribe…
My inbox is full of idiots.
As you may know, the other day I went on the most excellent Cognitive Dissonance podcast and gave Tom and Cecil a Tarot card reading. And since then I’m getting a vodka-piss stream of woo-merchants and dipshits emailing me to tell me just how wrong I’ve got it.
To their credit, these aren’t people who are actively out there scamming people and telling them “you’re grandma is gonna get cancer if you don’t donate a hot tub to the next person they lay eyes on… hey, hey, I’m over here” or anything. They almost certainly aren’t charging for their services, and they’re not consciously deceiving anyone. These are just people who have gotten really good at deceiving themselves.
The way they justify their pseudo-scientific hobby is by pointing out that Tarot isn’t about fortune-telling, it’s about divination; it’s about helping people through their problems with universal symbolism. It’s a way to reinforce positive messages and give people hope. It’s just a structured way for someone to try to see their problems from a new angle. What’s the harm in that?
Well, as I pointed out last Monday when I did the reading for Tom and Cecil which you can hear on episode number one hundred and thirty-four of their fine program, there’s plenty of harm. If your goal is to help people through their problems and aid them in seeing things from a new angle, don’t you think you should have some kind of qualification to do that beyond a spare fourteen bucks when you were at Spencer’s Gifts?
It’s belittling to psychologists and psychiatrists to think that any jackass who memorized the Zodiacal influences of some pretty pictures can step in and do their job with no chance of fucking it up. It’s the human psyche, for fuck’s sake; the most complicated thing that we know about. And you’re just gonna dive in there with nothing but the Idiot’s Guide to Vague Verbosity and ask me what’s the harm?
Now that should be all the answer I have to give, but it isn’t all the answer that I can give. Whatever spiritual caveats you might offer, as soon as you start shuffling your deck, you’re putting yourself in a position of authority that you didn’t have to do anything to earn. And it’s gonna be damned easy to take advantage of the person across the table. Even if you don’t succumb to that temptation, you’re just priming the pump for the less principled person that comes after you. And for what? So that you can spend half an hour giving them what DJ Groethe calls your “Aw shucks advice”?
You may think you’re giving them a positive message, but how the fuck do you know? You tell somebody to focus on what makes them happy, but you don’t know how much they love torturing rats with hacksaws. You tell them to never give up on love but you don’t know about the restraining order. You tell them to follow their dream but you don’t know if they dream about disemboweling postal workers.
People who are looking for help shouldn’t be pissing away time checking with sorcerers first. That goes for Tarot card readers, psychics, necromancers, astrologers, palm readers and crystal gazers and pastors, priests, bishops, reverends, rabbis, mullahs and monks. They should instead go to somebody who is qualified to help them through science-based means and they shouldn’t have to navigate a complicated menu to find them.
And yes, I group all of the above in the same category. I’ll freely admit that religious leaders are almost universally better trained to help people with personal crises, but at the same time they’re deferred a lot more authority because of it. For every person who would discount their doctor’s advice on the word of their cartomancer, there are a million who would do so on the advice of their priest. They’re given even more authority and even more opportunity to abuse it. And just like I’d say of the Tarot reader, the honest ones are just priming the adolescent buttocks for the dishonest ones.
Consider the strict licensing and regulation on psychiatrists and psychologists. If it came to light that a psychologist was sleeping with one of their patients, it would probably be a career ending scandal. But as Dr. Darrel Ray points out in both The God Virus and Sex and God, anybody who stays in a church long enough will hear about some pastor sleeping with some congregant. Sometimes the pastor is quietly moved to another church. Sometimes they’re not. But no horny pastor has ever lost his license to past over it.
And I don’t think I need to tell you that nobody ever lost their license to read tarot cards over any abuse of any kind ever.
There is no “harmless bullshit”. And I don’t really care how many paragraphs you can cram into an email, you’re never going to convince me that your faith is quantitatively better that the other faiths just because yours has playing cards.
Joining me for headlines tonight is hyperborean Heath Enwright. Heath, are you ready to migrate?
It is fucking freezing here. But I’m like an African swallow. The bird, not the ebony porn title. Non-migratory.
Don’t worry, I’m sure if the Weather Channel had an eleven day forecast there would be a high above freezing on it.
In our lead story tonight, from the “Sister Cum Mother” file, a nun working in Italy failed to plan her parenthood very well and recently gave birth, opting instead for termination of her job, for breaking the vow of chastity. According to her account, God secretly fucked her while she was masturbating on an airplane, but despite the well-known Joseph v. Mary precedent, her immaculate conception alibi was ignored.
Because it couldn’t just be that some nun fucked a dude multiple times. Because how the hell could that be international news, right? Nun fucks wouldn’t make ink on four continents, would it? So clearly there was some divine vine involved.
The ‘Last Scion’ released the following statement: (quote) “It was God’s dick … and I was married to God at the time. Just wait … My half-brother Jesus is gonna be right back, and he’ll tell you.” (end quote)
And apparently putting her money where her mouth is on the issues of contraception and abortion didn’t earn her any favor in the eyes of the Holy See.
As a tribute to the Scathing Atheist, and our mocking nicknames for Pope Francesco Rinaldi, the new mom named her son Francesco. Despite this revelation bringing down the average severity of their scandals considerably, the church feels like this has been a public embarrassment. And once again, Catholic leaders have a tail between their legs because of a child.
Well, I’m not just gonna come out and say that the Pope’s her baby-daddy, but he has shown a recent interest in tits.
Nun gives birth after seemingly immaculate conception: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/vaticancityandholysee/10581481/Nun-gives-birth-to-baby-named-after-Pope.html
And moving on to the “Ringing Endorsement From the Voices in my Head” file we bring you an update to a story we covered back in episode 38. You’ll recall Pennsylvania State Representative Rick Saccone from Heath making jokes about how his last name kind of sounds like a reference to testicular amputation.
And we all learned a valuable lesson: Buy your anal beads from the store.
And remember he said buy… not rent. In addition to Saccone’s lopsided nuts, we also discussed his braindead brainchild HB 1728, a proposal that calls for the words “In God we Trust” to be prominently displayed in every Pennsylvania classroom. While trying to justify this crevasse-wiping use of the constitution on a local television show last Sunday, Saccone claimed that the bill had the backing of the atheist community. He cited the off-the-record support of the unnamed head of “Pennsylvania Atheists”, a group that neither speaks for all atheists, nor exists.
Saccone’s running a board meeting: “We’re losing numbers. Gotta do something. Now keeping in mind I already printed a bunch of these … You guys think it’s all the hating women and fags, or you think it’s not enough propaganda posters?”
Of course, we’re all used to religious people taking advice from people who don’t exist so that came as no surprise. What really caught my eye on this story was his claim that “god” isn’t a divisive term since atheists can make it (quote) “whatever god they worship in the form of maybe […] materialism”. So yeah, we atheists can just pray to materialism so what are we so pissed about?
PA state rep makes up some atheists, pretends they support his proposal: http://www.examiner.com/article/atheists-demand-state-representative-apologize
And in “The Other Santorum” news, the Maldives has added ‘tape’ to the list of sticky red stuff that goes with rape. Abdulla Yameen, president of the Islamic theocracy, has vetoed a proposed law that would make it illegal to rape your wife while she fills out divorce paperwork. He called the rape ban (quote) “un-Islamic”.
Well good for it. What higher ethical standard can a law aspire to than “un-Islamic”?
This means two things … 1: Islam has justified rape! … and 2: The Islamic idea of justified rape specifically includes those awkward months before the woman gets tried for divorce. So just to be clear … You’re a woman, and you find out the hard way that you married a righteous rapist, and now you want a divorce. Getting your consent back, is harder than getting a gun. There’s a trial and a lengthy waiting period. Fortunately for women, the divorce settlement process itself, does not take very long, because women don’t own property.
In some cases, though, I think the husband can get visitation rights to the vagina on weekends.
According to the Religion News Service: (quote) “The bill says a husband cannot force his wife to have sex if the couple have filed for divorce, dissolution or mutual separation, and if the intent is to transmit a sexual disease.” (end quote) … So the bill didn’t even target rapists with AIDS, unless they were actively intending to infect their victim. Am I crazy, or did someone just use religion to defend the rights of AIDS-spreading rapists?!? Do we really need to keep making this podcast?!?
Maldivian President declared law against marital rape “un-islamic” http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/01/17/marital-rape-bill-maldives_n_4611006.html?utm_hp_ref=religion
And from the “Golden Calf Showers” file, a Hindu cult in northern India is touting the medicinal benefits of drinking pre-dawn virgin cow urine. So they’re not complete idiots … At least they don’t go out there in the middle of the fucking day, and drink piss from slutty octo-mom cows, like a crazy person. Slutty cow piss burns when you drink it from the herpes. Either way, they’re giving a new meaning to the term India Pale Ale (or IPA).
Of course, it’s worth noting that this story comes to us from the paragon of journalistic integrity that is the Daily Mail, so we’ll take it with a grain of creatinine, but we’re reporting on it anyway because they had pictures. And honestly, if the real story here is “unscrupulous Daily Mail photographer coaxes Hindu man into catching cow urine with a drinking glass” it would still be newsworthy enough to make piss puns about.
According to the cult – and the studies they didn’t perform – the hot champagne helps fight cancer, diabetes, tuberculosis, stomach problems, and baldness. So even if drinking cow piss upsets your stomach, these guys have the cure for that … which is literally made up of the piss they made you drink.
See, that’s what I was wondering. Like, if you drink the cow piss and then drink your cow piss piss and then drink your cow piss piss piss, and so on, is that like Hindu homeopathy?
Jairam Singhal, a decade-long urinalcoholic, said the following about the undeniable success of the placebovine excrement remedy: (quote) “I had diabetes, but ever since I have started drinking cow urine, my diabetes levels have been under control” (end quote).
Basically: “I got a bunch of Diabetes about 10 years ago, and I immediately started drinking urine every morning. Thanks to the magic pee, I’ve completely avoided getting more Diabetes since. My levels haven’t gone up by a single Diabetus.”
I so want to see Wilfred Brimley doing a cow piss commercial now. And I’d point out that he is still alive to do it, but we record on Wednesday and release on Thursday so I don’t want to take any chances.
Large numbers of people dumb enough to buy urine, are lining up at local cow shelters. To keep up with surging demand, a successful “Milk, Milk, Lemonade Stand” has popped up in the city of Agra. Obviously, thanks to these honest-to-god piss-sippers, we’ll need 30 seconds on the clock … ‘Slogans for the Medicinal Urine Restaurant’ … GO!!!
“Not on the rug, man…”
“Eat shit and die. Drink piss and live.”
“Would you like to take a piss, or will that be for here?”
“The mens room and the dessert menu have Urinal Cakes!!!”
“Got cancer? Well urine luck!”
“Milk, Milk, Lemonade: Number One in your mouth, Number One in your heart.”
“Milk, Milk, Lemonade: Never avoid a void.”
“Home of Mixology’s first ever cure-all beverage: the Nitro-Gin and Tonic.”
“Why settle for McDonalds’ special sauce when you can have McTurated special sauce?”
“Milk, Milk, Lemonade: Drinking straight from the Bed Panacea.”
“Urinary Tract Perfection”
“Our famous Urine Sampler combo appetizer features assorted cheese whiz, golden drench fries, and potato leak soup.”
“The best leak since Snowden”
“We cross streams like Peter Venkman.”
“Bladder ingredients; Bladder Pizza”
Mop a Johns … What about: “The New Drinkable Cure For Cancer: Pittle. Yellow. Different. Better.”
Hindu cult thinks drinking cow piss cures cancer: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2538520/Urine-drinking-Hindu-cult-believes-warm-cup-sunrise-straight-virgin-cow-heals-cancer-followers-queuing-try-it.html
And finally tonight, in “Stimulate your clit for Jesus” news; wayward youth, dildo dealer and c-list porn star Farrah Abraham has announced a forthcoming book on Christian parenting; set to publish after the completion of her trilogy of erotic fiction. Or, as she actually said, (quote) “My next trilogy – so three books – is an erotic sex novel.” (end quote) Because, you know, she’s, like… a wordsmith and stuff.
And based on my extensive C-List research, she’s one of those dealers who’s also a user. She must go through dildos like a wood chipper.
You might remember Farrah from the MTV exploitation of soul-crushing adolescent mistakes and tragedies, “Teen Mom” but I’m kind of hoping you don’t. If you remember her at all I’d hope it was from the sex tape that she accidentally sold to a porn distributor for over a million dollars. Or perhaps you remember her from that awkward toe in the trigger guard of the shotgun moment you had when you realized that a teen mother cum porn actress cum sex toy seller wrote a book and it was a fucking NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER.
They say write what you know. And she knows getting knocked up at 15, the father dies in a redneck accident, “Lord of the Cock Rings” Trilogy, and finally Christian parenting. That’s a story people can relate to. Lots of dudes are thinking: “You just described my wife.”
And as sad as this story is for every piece of literature ever penned, I should note that it is a powerful reminder that someone can rise up out of poverty, teen pregnancy and untimely widowhood as long as they’re white and have great tits.
Good to know I’ve got potential.
Teen mom and B-list porn star to author Christian parenting book: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/friendlyatheist/2014/01/17/teen-mom-who-leaked-her-sex-tape-announces-shes-writing-a-christian-parenting-book/
And on that reference to Heath’s moobs, we’ll close out the headlines tonight. Heath, thanks as always for joining me.
I’m holding a rocks glass of scotch in my cleavage.
And when we come back, Lucinda will join us to learn that books of the Bible apparently have reruns.
1 Chronicles in Rhyme
Have I told you the story about the crappy king Saul?
The ass-hunting bastard who squandered it all?
The Philistine fighter who lost many men?
Oh, I have? Well fuck you, I’m gonna tell it again.
Have I told you the story about the other king David?
Who defeated the Moabites and left them enslaved?
Whom god loved in battle and whom won every war?
I have? Oh well, fuck you, I’m gonna tell it some more.
How about Solomon? Did I tell you his tale?
The palace he built at incredible scale?
Oh, I told you he’s wise, super-fertile and rich?
Well I’ll tell you again, cause I’m First Chronicles, bitch.
That’s right, I’ve got nothing unspoken to say;
God said “read this book” and you have to obey.
So consider the previous four books as primers,
And consider this one to be god with Alzheimers.
You don’t care who begat Hezron, or who Hezron begat?
Or maybe you do, but you’ve got it down pat.
After all, we’ve discussed it, and I’ll even admit
This isn’t even the first time we’ve repeated that shit.
We’re just assuming our readers have piss-poor retention,
And clearly the editors aren’t paying attention,
So we’ll just repeat repetition and duplicate verse,
We’ll restate and rehash and reprise and rehearse.
And rework, and remind and reform and redo,
And resay, and revert and recast and renew,
Reconstruct, recrudesce, reproduce and rewrite
Refashion, reiterate, relive and recite.
Cause fuck it, it’s biblical and that all that counts.
So here’s nine chapters of names that no one can pronounce.
And maybe a chapter with a god praising song;
That’s a rip-off of Psalms and is two pages long.
I find describing how dull this book is rather challenging,
But in hopes that I can, here’s my nearest analogy;
Your at grandma’s and there’s this adorable clip that she found,
On YouTube of dogs chasing lasers around.
It’s twelve minutes long and it sucks and what’s more,
She’s shown you this same fucking montage before.
So you sit through it all and she says “Here’s another thing!”
Well First Chronicles is like the parts where the next one is buffering.
So sure, this books useless, and just makes the thing thicker,
And inspires those reading it to put bleach in their liquor,
But they need to remind you that like it or not,
The bible suck’s monkey nuts, in case you forgot.
If, like me, you make it through the first twelve books of the bible and say, “well that was crap”, don’t feel alone. It turns out the people writing this shit felt the same way, as One Chronicles is basically an alternate account that retells the entire fucking story to this point with a few minor tweaks and additions.
Yeah, apparently biblical reboots come faster than Spiderman reboots. Somebody read this thing and said, “It needs more exactly the same stuff again”.
So joining us to reiterate and rephrase is my lovely wife Lucinda. Lucinda, thanks for coming back for more.
Well, I tried the old “not tonight, honey, I have a headache” thing, but you weren’t having any of that shit so here I am with fucking bells on.
Apparently the people charged with summing up the first dozen books read them and said to themselves, “You know what parts suck? The ones that aren’t soul-crushing genealogies,” because they elected to start the book out with nine straight chapters of begats. So not much to summarize there, basically Adam was born and everyone who existed from then to the postexilic period is named there somewhere. What’s say we start in chapter ten?
Yeah, in case anybody forgot what a horrible fuck up Saul was, we rehash how the Israelites got their asses kicked under his command. Again.
And with Saul’s last words, he asked his gay slave to kill him, (quote) “lest these uncircumcised come and abuse me.” So the gimp refuses, and Saul falls on his own sword, to avoid capture and the inevitable lifetime of … apparently some sort of legendary Phillistine foreskin slap torture.
But then at the end it reminds you that it was because Saul consulted a medium instead of the Lord; so calling miss Cleo justifies the massacre and displacement of god’s chosen people. Got it.
Chapter eleven is a brief list of ancient Jewish badasses, and a few vainglorious accounts of the ass they kicked.
Yeah, at a certain point it just starts reading like a really long, rambling acceptance speech at the Oscars. You know, somebody who just won best costume design in a foreign language documentary is holding up the show thanking everyone they’ve ever met: “And I’d like to thank all the Benjamites and the Judahites that came to the stronghold of David; and I want to thank Ahiezer, Joash, Jeziel and Pelet for bringing David bread when he was unable to move about freely, and where all my Manassites at? Adnah, Jozabad, Jedial, Mikey, my main man Elihu…”
Yeah, so to summarize what Noah just said there, this book is boring compared to the Oscars. That should tell you all you need to know.
Then there’s the groovy remix of “Uzzah gets killed for touching the ark”
It’s like the book itself is admitting that it’s too boring to read. It’s saying “Yeah, this dude Uzzah exploded when he touched the ark but we can’t imagine you weren’t skimming when we talked about it before”
This book is sounding more and more like the Chris Farley show: Remember…Remember when “Seven And they carried the ark of God on a new cart, from the house of Abinadab, and Uzzah and Ahio were driving the cart. Eight And David and all Israel were celebrating before God with all their might, with song and lyres and harps and tambourines and cymbals and trumpets.” … That was awesome … Stupid- I’m such an idiot!!!
And so that you know we’re not overstating the boring here, consider this; we’re not just reading unpronounceable lists of bronze age Jewish royalty; we’re re-reading unpronounceable lists of bronze age Jewish royalty.
And in case you somehow managed to miss the entire central theme of the last four books we just fucking read, One Chronicles reminds us that David is awesome and kicks much ass.
I can’t help but think of the profound disappointment that people must have felt when Luther translated this thing. You know, it’s supposed to be this magical book of intrigue and answers that all the priests refer to, so you finally get a vulgar masses, Reader’s Digest translation, you leaf to a random page and land in One Chronicles. And it’s a list of the members of some ancient choir that sang at the “Ark Relocation” party.
Chapter seventeen reminds us that god liked David the bestest of everybody. Ever.
Yeah God is pleased with David for carrying his exploding death-box around, and also for fucking anything with three holes, so he gives him a really nice house for his harem of 3000 women and their shitty red-headed step-children. Bottom line: God’s happy and David’s getting more ass than Muhammad Ali aiming for pussy.
I get the feeling like this whole book was inspired by somebody reading the last four books and saying, “I can’t imagine a more boring way to present the history of Israel” and another guy saying, “I can”
It’s like listening to a kid tell a joke they don’t get over and over again.
Yeah reading One Chronicles is like listening to your shitty five-year-old nephew tell a joke on the phone. First you get 30 seconds of what sounds like … a litter of puppies fighting to lick bacon grease off the receiver … while the stupid kid gets the phone in his hand. And then they put italics and question marks in there for no reason … “Yeah and then Abishai? the son of Zeruiah? Killed 18,000 Edomites in the (breathe) Valley of Salt-okay-bye.”
In nineteen we revisit the whole Ammonite servant-shaving war… because… I don’t even know. Ancient Israel must have just been that boring.
Right? A few emissaries get wedgied by Hanun and they’re gossiping about it for four god damn centuries? Seriously?
Here’s a quote: “So Hanun took David’s servants and shaved them and cut off their garments in the middle, at their hips, and sent them away.” I think we made an ass-less chaps joke when they told this exact same story the first time. Which was hilarious … Ass-less chaps on dessert-dwelling Jewish midgets is just about 24-carat comic gold … But we didn’t mention the genius wardrobe suggestion for a Koran-friendly compromise on Muslim porn. The women can trade in their eye slit, for a tit slit, or a slit slot.
And you can tell there’s an inferiority complex driving this whole thing. It all reads like some subjugated motherfuckers sitting around going, “remember when Jews kicked ass?”
There’s a reason “Knocked Up” wasn’t two hours of Jonah Hill and Seth Rogen getting drunk and talking about the movie “Munich”.
And then we’re reminded of the evils of census taking. Which is weird, because Moses did it twice in Numbers and nobody had to be plagued to death over it. But yeah, the trip down memory cul-de-sac continues.
Yep. We relive all the excitement of counting the cedar trees used to build the temple as we transition from David to Solomon in chapter twenty-two.
Yes, and lest we forget, Levites don’t have to do work.
Probably the single most oft repeated edict in this book so far; Levites are special and don’t have to do shit that’s sweaty.
And chapter twenty-four is probably the current leader for the most boring individual chapter in the bible. It’s a detailed genealogy of Moses and Aaron, which we already read once in the Pentateuch, once at the beginning of this same book and again in the directly antecedent chapter!
And it holds that title until chapter twenty five, where we get a detailed twenty-four part genealogy of the lyre, harp and cymbal players. Fuckeringfuckatash.
I don’t get it. Jews are a musical people. But a possessed frontman having spasms and speaking in tongues … accompanied by lyre, harp, and cymbals … would be the worst band ever!!! First of all, lyre and harp are almost the same thing, so how is that two thirds of the instrumentation?!? And then add people smashing metal discs together. That’s not a reasonable composition.
And then they follow up the biblical “This one time at band camp” story with an even more detailed genealogy of all the bouncers that worked the temple door.
…And then one for all the civil servants.
I feel like an ass even covering this book. It’s just Samuel again. It’s the whole two fucking books retold. We honestly could have done this book as a “greatest hits” mash up of our last four Babble segments. In twenty eight we’re reminded of just how fucking gilded this temple Solomon was building was.
The temple of our housewife of Beverly Hills
And then David dies again, Solomon is anointed again, they kill a bunch of bulls again and holy shit this reading the bible shit was a horrible idea.
I’m so excited there’s another Chronicles coming up after this one … Like Hayden Christensen excited. Annakin was the bomb in Phantom Menace, so…
Word, bitch, Phantom Menace like a motherfucker!!!
I feel like a rape victim at half-time. It’s confusing … poignant moment.
I don’t know, I feel like we should apologize to our listeners for how boring the Bible is. An encyclopedia would be more fucking entertaining. I can’t imagine how we’re gonna keep from putting them to sleep when we do Second Chronicles.
Well, look on the bright side; at least you don’t have to write a fucking poem about it.
Alright, so after all that this is hard for me to say, but the Holy Babble will be back in episode 52 with Second Chronicles, but don’t worry, I’m sure that one will be awesome.
Before we close the hood tonight I wanted to thank everyone for their ideas for mash-ups and flashbacks for our fiftieth episode next week. We’re still taking suggestions so if you have a favorite skit, moment, interview or vulgarity from our first forty-nine shows, let us know. You’ll find all the contact info on the contact page of our website.
And if you just can’t get enough me, you can find me all over the podcasting world this week. Tom and Cecil were kind enough to invite me back on Cognitive Dissonance to give them a Tarot reading; Cash and Love from Atheists on Air invited me on their show last Monday to talk about sex and circumcision and John and JD at Rational Talk invited me on to chat about this program and all the behind-the-scenes stuff it takes to pull it off every week. You’ll find links to all these shows on the shownotes for this episode at Scathing Atheist (dot) com.
Cognitive Dissonance; Episode 134: http://dissonancepod.com/?p=702
Rational Talk; Homepage: http://www.therationaltalk.com/
Atheists On Air; Episode 29: http://mythunderstoodalliance.com/029-sexpisode-iv-scathing-atheist-steve-wells-sab/
Of course I need to thank Heath for all his wit and wisdom. I need to thank Lucinda for suffering through probably the most boring book of the bible so far with us. I also really, really need to thank McKenzie and McKenzie’s mom for providing the hand’s-down cutest Farnsworth Quote to date. Lucinda and I listened to it four times in a row when we got it. Thanks, it was awesome.
But most of all, of course, I need to thank this week’s most stellar exemplifications of sentient stardust, Shelby, Vinnie, John, Geoff (Jeff), Magnus, Thomas, Ramesh and Ben. Shelby, who’s so kick ass they named a Mustang after her back when Mustangs looked cool; Vinnie, whose mighty member is worshipped by island peoples throughout the Pacific; John, whose legendary sexual prowess echoes on the lips of carnal professionals the world over; Geoff (Jeff), whose IQ has exponents; Magnus, the supreme chancellor of the intergalactic defense federation; Thomas, whose humility forced Time Magazine to settle for the Pope last year; Ramesh, whose so classy he gets his whoop-ass from a bottle; and Ben, whose ejaculations are measured on the enhanced Fujita scale.
This octuple of brave, soulless individuals have tested their mettle against the unforgiving crucible that is our donation page and returned stronger, smarter and more appealing to members of the opposite sex. If you think that you, too, have the psychological acuity required to become a sponsor of our show, you’ll find the donate button on the right side of the homepage at Scathing Atheist (dot) com. And remember, Lucinda and I need to buy a new timing belt and all the other requisite auto-parts that constitute a full vehicle, preferably all pre-assembled and fully functional, so every dollar helps.
And of course, if you want to help but you’re afraid we’ll just use the money to buy booze, you can also help us a ton by leaving us a glowing review on iTunes and telling your friends about the show, especially the ones who might listen to it. You can also find us on all the finest social media sites and Facebook and don’t forget to listen to us on Stitcher if you’re into that kind of thing.
If you have questions, comments or death threats, you’ll find all the contact info on the contact page at Scathing Atheist (dot) com. All the music used in this episode was written and performed by yours truly and yes, I did have my permission.