Every Day is an Atheist Holiday!: More Magical Tales from the Author of God, No!
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Let’s be honest—nobody has more fun than atheists. Don’t believe it? Well, consider this: For nonbelievers, every day you’re alive is a day to celebrate! And no one celebrates life to the fullest like Penn Jillette—the larger, louder half of legendary magic duo Penn & Teller—whose spectacularly witty and sharply observant essays in Every Day Is an Atheist Holiday! will entertain zealots and skeptics alike. Whether he’s contemplating the possibility of life after death, deconstructing popular Christmas carols, or just calling bullsh*t on Donald Trump’s apprentice training, Jillette does not fail to shock and delight his readers. And as ever, underneath these rollicking rants lie a deeply personal philosophy and a generous spirit, which find joy and meaning in family, and peace in the simple beauty of the everyday. Every Day Is an Atheist Holiday! is a hysterical affirmation of life’s magic from one of the most distinctly perceptive and provocative humorists writing today.
Wednesday. I liked that they were declaring publicly who they were and what they believed. I love rituals and I love symbolism. Before I found a way to do an atheist baptism and an atheist first supper, I created Chiquita Banana Wednesday. On Ash Wednesday, I would pull the Chiquita banana sticker off a banana and put it on my forehead. It’s a life-affirming colorful celebratory answer to the black mourning and death cult of the capital punishment symbol made of ash. I try to do it every year,
would cover her face as we walked in. I fancied that her hidden identity made people wonder who it was who couldn’t be seen with me. I still like that thought. I hope someone is still wondering. It’s really hard to break up with someone from a different culture. Every relationship problem we had could be blamed on cultural differences and misunderstanding. “No, baby, the problem is that you didn’t realize that was a reference to The Flintstones, it was a joke about Fred talking to Wilma, I
project my unconscious thoughts, but it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like I can hear differences. I want the laughter to be pure. Laughter about all human hearts and not at some dipshit buying his dreams in the back of the National Enquirer. I laugh, not because the songs are stupid, but because the songs are too true. Lady Gaga is protected by skill. She’s good and good makes her bulletproof. The people who write song poems don’t have any armor at all. They are running around naked wearing
matter. If Randi had pushed harder and if the rest of us had supported Randi, if we hadn’t respected Andy’s nutty ideas so much, would Andy have lived longer? No way of knowing. Andy was certainly a hero and had several faces of his own, most of them wig-wearing ones. He certainly ventured forth from Pittsburgh, the world of common day, into a region of supernatural wonder, Manhattan in the sixties. Fabulous forces were certainly encountered and Andy won many a decisive victory—producing The
the strength to tell people to their faces that I didn’t believe what they were saying was true. I wanted more than just the balls to call bullshit. I’m thinking maybe I’ll go back to the no-swearing thing. It worked well for my parents, but whether I do that or not, I’m going to try to phase out all the hateful terms and ideas. I’m sick of racial and sexual stereotypes or even making fun of those stereotypes. I believe people are people. Differences between men and women may exist in the