I like to tell people, when asked, "Where are you from?", that, "I was thought about in Alaska and popped out in Alabama.". For the majority of us on this lonely illuminated speck of blue green dust we call Earth; amid billions and billions of other lonely illuminated specks of dust against a blackened zenith; and each little speck flashing encrypted algorithms of secrete wants and desires like seemingly lost and horny fireflies on a hot summer�s night; for the majority of us, it is true that we share this life together only to the extent in which someone else had loved this life as much as those seemingly lost and lonely fireflies. So, it was also true for my parents. They had young love to warm each other in an otherwise small, cold, and, mainly, government-subsidized village in Nome, Alaska, on the brink of Statehood. It was in this Land of Forgotten Gold Rush Dreams in which a young and, for all practical purposes, white or rather pinkish man from Alabama who had joined the Air Force and was stationed on the Air Force Base in Nome, Alaska. He made love to a young native Inupiat girl. What a sight that must have been with the Aurora Borealis overhead mimicking the ass-end of a firefly. I find it strange that I owe my existence to the match making prowess of Uncle Sam.

Thus, I began my wayward journey from a cold, white, and seemingly endless and barren footstep of the Bering Straights and on the threshold of Denali to the 'Heart of Dixie': The Great State of Alabama, land of Civil Rights Marches and Holy Rollers; of White Trailer Trash, bible-belt snake-handlers, and the twisted god fearing logic of the KKK; of Tent Revivals and church bombings; of Southern Rock N� Roll, Southern Pride and Southern Fried; of Guv�na George C. Wallace and his band of Merry Lynch men. Sweet Cheezus! Hell, I had entered the ' . . . land of the free and home of the brave', where 'blue birds fly over the rainbow', but most of all, a land for: White People Only. Such is the nature of life�s lottery that John Rawls speaks of in his book �A Theory of Justice� falling just short of calling it god�s will. So, on 13, January 1954, I made the big decision to leave my safe haven and check things out for myself. You know, move around a bit, and stretch my legs, because my little haven was shrinking daily. With a quick and hard slap on the buttocks from a complete stranger and a deep breath, my life began in the godforsaken segregated landscape of Alabama . . . I cried.

With double pneumonia and an ass as red as a summer strawberry, and my mother hemorrhaging, my prognosis in this sanguine, violent and brave new world was dismal to say the least. So, I would like to take this time to thank the doctor and the medical staff at Caraway Methodist Hospital, in Birmingham, Alabama, for helping my mother and me through a very difficult time. Someone once said, "If ignorance is bliss, then slap me in the face." Like the doctor's aim, my timing is off, but with my deepest sincerity, "Thank You."

We were all born Atheist. Voltaire said, "All men are born with a nose and ten fingers, but no one is born with a knowledge of god." Each and every one of us were given a carte blanc mind-set at birth with little more than a strong determination to survive; therefore, everything else is learned behavior. And, just who or what is in a major battle for control of one's carte blanc? It is religion, of course, with volumes and volumes of dogmas, tenets, rituals, rules and regulations to fill your carte blanc or soul with, like waves beating a shore to the point that your basic knowledge of 'self' is eroded and lost but to a total submission to a homogenous ocean of other think-a-likes. As a new recruit, what is your main directive? Why, to seek new recruits, of course, or the 'belief' will die; the ocean will dry up. Just as there are as many white-sanded virgin shores without a solitary footstep in the morning sun rise, there are as many carte blancs, seemingly lost souls to beat, trespass, and conquer.

Although, some religions are worst than others, I truly believe that all religions are varying forms of mental illnesses. " I do not believe in the creed professed by the Jewish church, by the Roman church, by the Greek church, by the Turkish church, by the Protestant church, nor by any church that I know of. . . Each of those churches accuse the other of unbelief; and for my own part, I disbelieve them all.", said one of Our Founding Fathers, Thomas Paine(1). ('Our Founding Father' it sounds pious, does it not? Don't get me wrong, nationalism, is in as much competition for one's soul as much as religions are. The battleground for the shores of terra incognito have never been known to lack varying breeds of the same 'Dogs of War'.) And, Voltaire, the eminent erudite and Scourge of the Church in the 18^th century said, "Christianity is the most ridiculous, the most absurd and bloody religion that has ever infected the world.". I whole heartedly agree. Although, history is written by its victors, there is enough of the truth that has not escaped through the sieve to cause every reasonable person to run in absolute horror away from the trappings of Christianity.

As you will see later on through these web pages, I have not been so much as in a conflict with the concept of a god as I am in a quagmire with the followers of a particular god. I cannot be in a conflict with something that does not exist. Although it can be said that I have been known to have had a conflict or two with something totally imaginary. As a child, some good examples were my adamant belief in Santa Claus or wetting my bed because of the alligator that lived underneath it. The mind works in mysterious ways. I have never understood why an all-knowing and omnipotent god needed so many protectors, anyway. But, I can see how an imaginary friend or a make-believe god might need to be protected by a fervid and dismayed follower who happens to come across a non-believer (thus, a new shore to trample, flog, and conquer).

At this point in my life, of nearly 50 years, I am busily erasing all the useless crap that was embedded onto my carte blanc. It will be a gift to myself for my 50^th birthday to return to the cart blanc, to be able to see the world again from a child's eye. Thus, I have declared myself as a Born-Again Atheist. Now, if I can just find an embellished bow to match the wrapper. . . .

So with that in mind, how is your acting today? Are you following the script or creating one? Do you just read the lines and conveniently skip over the ones that are not warm and fuzzy? I grant you one thing, creating the script is the hardest to accomplish because there is but one soul who drags no shadows across the center stage. At the same time, there is but one tough director alone in the audience that can never be lied to. And, both of those personas are yourself. When I had put myself upon the center stage; shined the spot light directly above me; and looked at the director squarely into the eye, I felt an overwhelming relief. I realized that one day the curtain will fall and that will be it. All the instilled dogmatic guilt, shame, sin and fear to be carried into another 'ethereal' play, were all part of this one and only play that we are experiencing in the here and now. I realized that all of those things were make-believe and when the curtain comes down it will all cease to exist. When I examined that pitifully little and lonely actor with not the slightest shadow on center stage, I no longer had to worry about another nonexistent next judgmental play to go to. This is not a dress rehearsal, my friends. There are no second chances. "Religion is all bunk. I have never seen the slightest scientific proof of the religious ideas of heaven and hell, of future life for individuals, or of a personal God.", said Thomas Edison, American inventor (1847-1931). (Have you ever wondered why this is not taught in our schools? The heuristics in our present school system sucks.) And the delightfully popular late Carl Sagan said, "Life is but a momentary glimpse of the wonder of this astonishing universe, and it is sad to see so many dreaming it away on spiritual fantasy." The only judge I had to face was sitting in the audience: 'me'. The only rule in place was: 'Don't lie to the Director'. I also came to realize that the only hell I had ever known were other people coming onto my stage and giving me lines to read, because if they were busy with producing their own play, they would not be busy with mine. These are all poor examples of Existentialism via par excellence by Jean-Paul Sartre: mauvaise foi (self-deception), self-awareness, freedom, and especially, the theme of his play "No Exit" : "Hell is other people".(3),(4)

I'll leave this page with one more quip from Thomas Paine, for whom we all can thank the lucky stars in the USA flag, and for helping a common and poorly uneducated person - like me, to free himself from the terror, the insanity, and the enslavement of all religions, "Of all the systems of religion that ever were invented, there is none more derogatory to the Almighty, more unedifying to man, more repugnant to reason, and more contradictory in itself, than this thing called Christianity."(2)

1. The Age of Reason by Thomas Paine, pp. 8,9 (Republished 1984, Prometheus Books, Buffalo, NY)
2. (ibid.)p.185
3. L'Etre et le N�ant (1943) trans. by Hazel Barnes as Being and Nothingness (Published by the New York Philosophical Library)
4. Huis Clos a play by Jean-Paul Sartre, trans. as No Exit