Seriously Christians use this all the time. If your a Christian how much time have you spent worrying about Brahma and he is gonna say to you in the after life. My guess is not much. That pretty much how any atheist feels after they go through the period of doubt that many of us do. So next time your about to say Pascal's wager, or the you secretly believe in god bit, imagine a wiccan sitting in front of you saying exactly the say things about the goddess. Would it convince you to convert to Wicca? No likely not and if wouldnt convince you, why on earth do you think can convince someone else with it?
In fact Christians, I think that would be a good test for your arguments. Just imagine someone trying to you to their religion using the same arguments. You may realize that a lot things you may otherwise say are fucking stupid. What would you think if a Muslim told you that you knew Mohammed was the messenger of god but you rejected him out of hate? Or that you reject brahma because of a traumatic child hood? Seriously, gladly some of you already know this but too many of you dont. The sad part is that the ones that need this advice won't take it.
In fact Christians, I think that would be a good test for your arguments. Just imagine someone trying to you to their religion using the same arguments. You may realize that a lot things you may otherwise say are fucking stupid. What would you think if a Muslim told you that you knew Mohammed was the messenger of god but you rejected him out of hate? Or that you reject brahma because of a traumatic child hood? Seriously, gladly some of you already know this but too many of you dont. The sad part is that the ones that need this advice won't take it.
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.
