Atheists are Mohammedans

THESE TWO GROUPS have lots in common. Atheists and Mohammedans.

They both want to stamp out opposing religions, and they can get downright nasty about it too. What? you say. Atheism is not a religion? Sure, it is.*

Atheism states there is no God, which means they know what happens after death in spite of having not a shred of evidence. Their belief is based on faith alone, which makes it a religion. Tell an atheist he’s a man of faith. It’ll really gall him, which is fun.

Mohammedans want to kill those who do not embrace their religion. Atheists don’t go that far, not yet, but they are ever campaigning to have opposing religions suppressed. They want all manifestations of other religions erased from the public sphere.

Note to atheists: If you oppose organized religion, there is only one logical way to do it, and that’s to embrace agnosticism. It’s not a religion because it does not claim to know what happens after death. Agnosticism accepts cluelessness.

Agnosticism is the only rational opposition to religion. If you’re an atheist, you might as well build cathedrals, appoint clergy and invent a Holy Book.

Some saints would be nice too.

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* Not all atheists are like this. Quite a few are fine people, minding their own business. Let us liken them to gays. Many of them are good people, but many want to put bakeries out of business out of pure spite and meanness.

Mountain autumn

far

SAY WHAT you will about spring. Fall is the best time. Of course, this depends on where you are.

If you live somewhere with sweltering summers, then spring is just an introduction to suffering. Autumn would be the door to pain closing behind you. Time to rejoice.

Most of my life was spent in zones with sweltering summers, so I’m an autumnal man. Falling leaves and shades of brown put a lively spring to my faltering steps.

If you can vision such a thing.

Eating a bagel this morning, I looked out the huge window to the right and noticed falling, yellow leaves from the peach tree. Ah, I thought, the feel and look of fall.

It’s cool out too.

Winter here is not too bad if you don’t mind coats and scarves inside the house in the morning, and I don’t mind.

new-image

Here I am drinking hot coffee on a winter morning years ago. My child bride knitted that wool scarf for me.

Another sweet aspect to fall here is that it stops raining. November is our best month. It’s not raining, and everything is still green, not the dusty brown of springtime.

November also brings the Day of the Dead.

But we’re not in November yet. It’s something I look forward to and, in the meantime, I eat my bagels, look out the window and smile at the leaves falling from the peach tree.

As I type this, there is lively music from the neighborhood plaza. It’s been going full-tilt boogy since dawn. I have no clue what we’re celebrating. Perhaps the falling leaves.

More likely some long-gone saint.

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(Note: That top photo was a zoom test on my new camera. I was a long way off. That arch and the carport roof are inside the Hacienda walls, and I was half a block away.)

The tower view, 2

streetAS PROMISED yesterday, I climbed atop the kitchen/storefront lavatory and shot these photos. Above is our front street. I went for a Sam Peckinpah effect because I wanted it to look like an old Mexico movie.

Of course, Peckinpah’s actual movies were in color to accentuate the abundant blood flow.

Not much in the way of traffic out there, which is normal. This was photographed yesterday around 10 a.m. Sometimes there are men on horseback, plus the occasional burro.

In the distance, you can see trees on the right side of the street. That’s our local plaza, and it’s just 1.5 blocks away. Earth-shaking concerts are held there about eight nights a year. These events are inspired by stuff like saints, virgins and season change. We sleep with silicone earplugs on those nights.

About two years ago, a big blow, quite a storm, uprooted nine trees in the plaza, about a third of those present. It was never reported as a tornado, but I’m convinced it was.

Doing a 180, you’re facing the sex motel next door. I wouldn’t want you to miss that. You can see into the rooms, especially that first one. Those are the bed pillows. A similar direct view is available from the house’s upstairs terraza, and folks occasionally leave the curtains open, to their dismay if I show up.

The sex motel is a fun neighbor.

motel(Note: Coming up tomorrow. Nairobi lesbians!)