As my girlfriend and I are both atheists, we are incapable of wonder, affection, or altruistic behavior. You might think that this would make for a loveless existence, but we more than fill that void by holding satanist orgies of bloodlust at which we openly mock God by sacrificing unbaptized infants on an altar surrounded by writhing, entwined bodies which undulate with reckless abandon. The revels are usually followed by a post-sin panel discussion with free potables and brownies provided.

Mmm, brownies. But where was I?

Sometimes our thirst for sin and corruption remains unquenched by our Saturnalian indulgences, and when that happens we usually resort to that other favorite atheist activity: boring discussions about religion, politics, music, literature, and all the rest of that crap. Which is why, the other day, she brought up deathbed conversions and why she thinks the “atheists finding God before death” stories are pretty silly and unpersuasive.

My godless harlot writes:

You know, I was thinking about something: whether the occurence of non-Christians finding religion in old age is truly something to brag about:

1. If the subject’s life were divided into a ratio of time spent believing and time spent not believing, the “time spent believing” figure would be embarassingly small when compared to the “time spent not believing.” If the person were exactly seventy-seven years old and converted on his final day of life, the ratio of belief to unbelief would be 28104:1. An earlier conversion coinciding with the diagnosis of terminal illness, keeping in the category of old-age, would present closer ratios: 59:5, 71:3, etcetera-etcetera-etcetera, each time with “not believing” holding the far greater number.
2. Old age generally diminishes a person’s mental capabilities, especially in the final years. What does it say about Christianity that it takes lowered intelligence to enamor people of its precepts?
3. Assuming the subject converted due to desperation engendered by a fear of death and concerns about an afterlife, the Christian interpretation might be that the subject found asylum and reassurance within the answers provided by religion. But desperation can cause people to act bizarrely–why tout a conversion that was spurred by such self-centered emotions?
3a. And in that vein, is religion truly a saving grace, divinely adopted? Or is it simply a comforting solution that, if the circumstances were different, could have been replaced by a calming substance (like, say, marijuana) or practice instead of a doctrine of a higher power?
After she offered these thoughts, we drank again from the intoxicating River of Blood that we have set up in our living room, right next to the stained-glass images of Mssrs. Dawkins, Hitchens, Russell, and Stalin to which we offer nightly sacrifice (of—what else?—innocent babies).


While I’m mentioning my girlfriend (biblical value: eight goats, seven rubies, five bushels of grain), I should point out that she is the creator of some excellent jewelry, including the hot-selling LIFE DNA bracelet, which you can buy at her online store if you’re feeling bio-geeky enough. Ladies, nothing says “sexy and confident” like displaying your love of biology right on your arm, and may I say to the gentlemen that nothing says “I love you and all the self-replicating code in your wonderful cell nuclei” like the gift of a DNA bracelet.