(December 25, 2013 at 12:29 pm)Nineteen Wrote:Let me sum it up for you nineteen. Your religion is fucking preposterous. If was designed by omniscient designer then why are my nuts in easy reach for castration? Why is it that 99% of the creatures god designed are extinct? Why is t(December 25, 2013 at 10:32 am)là bạn điên Wrote: Nineteen.
Do you seriously beleive that we are likely to be convinced by the claim the we would accept the Koran is evidence if we were intelligent?
I dont care
(December 25, 2013 at 10:32 am)là bạn điên Wrote: Who cares .
That would imply that Muslims must be cleverer than everyone who isn't a Muslim?
Yes , every single muslim who believe in Islam by using their logic is more clever than an atheists who use their logic but strictly deny Allah .
(December 25, 2013 at 10:32 am)là bạn điên Wrote: What evidence other than religious belief do you accept as evidence that someone is Intelligent?
Being clever and being intelligent is different things .
It that humans were, born, struggled, and died for 94,000 years before he decided to try to guide humans? Why does he use languages that die out to communicate, instead of say a rock that he can use to talk to you directly when you touch it? If the earth was created with humans in mind, why Antarctica? Can god make a rock too heavy for him to lift? Why is it all contact with humans directly and all of his prophets are in the middle east? Why does he allow people to believe the false hadith's? Why did he encourage slavery? Why did design paracites that crawl up the urthea and eat a mans penis from the inside? Why does he allow shaytan to live?
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
