Atheism For Dummies (For Dummies (Religion & Spirituality)) (57 page)

It was a classic, straight-faced satire in the Stephen Colbert mold, and it was brilliant.

“I think we can all agree that it is important for students to hear multiple viewpoints so they can choose for themselves the theory that makes the most sense to them,” he said in the letter. But he added that he was concerned students would only hear one Intelligent Design theory. He and many others around the world, he said, believed that the world was created by a Flying Spaghetti Monster. Henderson asked that the science curriculum be split not two but three ways, teaching Intelligent Design, Flying Spaghetti Monsterism, and what Henderson calls “logical conjecture based on overwhelming observable evidence.”

Henderson’s satirical letter spread like wildfire online. The Associated Press praised it as “a clever and effective argument” and the
Daily Telegraph
said it was “a masterstroke, which underlined the absurdity of Intelligent Design.”

The following year, four of the six religious conservatives on the Kansas board who had approved the nonsensical policy lost their seats in an election, and the new board quickly voted to reject the change.

Many credit Henderson’s letter for showing how untenable the board’s position was. In the end, by yanking the board’s fig leaf away, satire may have been even more powerful than the serious objections of 38 Nobel laureates.

But that wasn’t the end, not by a long shot. The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster has since exploded into a worldwide phenomenon, especially on college campuses. Along the way, it has developed its own rituals, scripture, and words and phrases including the following:

Pastafarian: A worshipper of the Flying Spaghetti Monster

“I Have Been Touched by His Noodly Appendage”: I am blessed

The Olive Garden of Eden: Where it all began

Antipasti: People opposed to Pastafarianism

The Eight “I’d Really Rather You Didn’ts”: Instructions for moral living

RAmen: Said at the conclusion of a Pastafarian prayer

Now lest you think FSMism is just an extended joke — amusing but not all that powerful — try explaining to a Pastafarian exactly why her religion is fake and another (take your pick) isn’t. Arguing that the hearsay and revelations of one prophet are inherently more valid than those of another isn’t easy.

Or you may want to talk to Nico Alm, an Austrian Pastafarian who learned that his government forbade hats in driver’s license photos
unless
they are of religious significance — then showed up to the driver’s bureau wearing a pasta strainer on his head, claiming it was a religious mandate for worshippers of the FSM. When the government failed to come up with a decisive way to distinguish Pastafarianism from any other belief claim, Alm got his wish.

Skewering the Sacred Musically: Tim Minchin

British-Australian musician/comedian Tim Minchin (b. 1975) has quickly become the musical voice of atheism and skepticism — and an insanely funny one at that. Like so many of the comedians in this chapter, Minchin’s material is tremendously smart and thought-provoking — a perfect example of the power of comedy to reveal the truth about sensitive subjects.

Examples include

“Storm,” a nine-minute beat poem about the collision of his skepticism with the starry-eyed gullibility of another guest at a dinner party.

“Thank You, God,” a relentlessly upbeat tongue-in-cheek prayer thanking God for fixing a woman’s cataracts while continuing to give countless babies malaria.

“Pope Song,” which crams 84 obscenities into two minutes while outlining the child sex abuse scandal in the Catholic Church and the Vatican’s inadequate response. The obscenities are central to the point, as Minchin points out in the last few bars:
If the language in this song offends you more than the idea that the Pope protected priests who were abusing children, then you need to check your values.
(I may have paraphrased that a bit.)