A Dolphin's brain might be as big as ours, but it is because of our hands that we will destroy the earth like our first gratification. We expect it. With Religions as our Ideological justifications, and with the statistics of over-population and the resulting polluted water, earth and air. And the planet's orbit wobbling and receding, it is a matter of time. Yet, in hypostatic union, fearing the unknowable, all we want to do is kill. We cannot be good because we are part evil. If we weren't, our only reason to be on earth is to have sustenance (more vegetables) and to give compassion and needed items to other humans, and to look after each innocent creature. What else is there to do? One could also pray to assuage the mind from impermanence. Otherwise, we live with evil in a nuerogenetic disorder that abstracts and absolute justification for what we do to preserve our life(style) no matter the balance of good and evil; to carry our primitive sacrificial notions of killing justified by abstractions of state and religion and an absolute fear of self in a finite and infinite horror of the unknowable that has caused us to pursue insane acts speeded up by the introduction of nuerotoxins of the technological age of computer war in the morphogenetic state of pathotheistic bionics.

Some tried to preserve the arts as something good in our culture. Painting and poetry have mostly vanished now due to the subsidies of tax monies and those on state and federal grants panels handing the money to their friends. Each year the artistic bar lowers.. Academic poetry, laughable. Lucky we have no culture to know the difference. Ms. Lilly gave 100 million to Poetry Magazine. That's too bad. Think of all the innocent creatures, the orphans in shelters wanting a home. Look in their eyes, then look at a poem. Definitions of evil abound. But the arts are always a small part. Painting and fine art will go next, the patrons seem to need those and can tolerate them longer. Most cacophony can be detected, so we will still have music, though very little reaches the commercialism of TV. Architecture will be the last to go. Although sports stadiums are our generations marvels, their roofs seem to cave or the fans destroy the bleachers, etc.

I do not belief in any religion. I think they are all fairy tales, stories, for those who need a belief. I believe in belief. Atheism is an oxymoron because the word contains the negation that cannot be conceived. It is only a label like lord, no more, no less. I'm sorry all you red-faced Bible thumpers. You got nothing. I have found no one on this earth that can explain life and death and what happens after we leave, or what we know as this life. No person can substantiate a claim to be connected to a God, it is a waste of time; time that could be spent helping each other get through this unknown situation we call life. I do think prayer is essential, if not for things determined, then for the mind itself to help assuage the unknown impermanence that awaits us all. The stories in history can become canonized or can still float around in pieces in the dream world. "The greatest story ever told" probably happened (in some form.) Some of its elements are no more real than those of the Lord of the Rings, or the Lord of the Flies or what have you. After all, it took about four centuries of Nicean Councils to mold the magic insemination into the human hypostatic madness to save the world. Now we have artificial insemination. The "Father God" probably caused the fatal underlying distrusts of Jesus and his followers. Pretty strong stuff to lay on his people. Even in the Mideast now, only power is understood. By the 5th century the pagans had been pushed back into the hills and Christians had become very attached to worldly goods. Today, we see them at their Sunday finest in their SUV's driving past Columbine, working feverishly the rest of the week for the power of wealth. Since the days of the money-changers, greed has become the good glue that holds our society together. On long holidays one starts seeing small signs of civilization's fracture. The recreational becomes confrontational and so on. No one speaks but by bumper stickers. Rudeness and power are the order of the day. The savior, entertainment.

Claims are still made that believers are streaming forth again to great crusades such as Billy Graham used to stage in the 50's, in Kansas, where there are geographical stains, too, in faith-based regions. When I revisit the bible belt, I realize that there is, indeed a regional pathos, a shocked scripture that shrieks in an invisible pall of prairie silt rippling in layers of decomposed death, waste and travail of carcasses of animals and people that make a mummified rise in earth dust from St. Louis to the mile high city of Denver.

On the plains, like the buffalo, an innocence was killed for sport. Many were terrorist acts like the Ex-Officer from the Civil War and his band of murderers who wiped out the innocent Black Kettle's band. Black Kettle had tried to bring his people to "give peace a chance". The white murdering terrorists savaged the band of peaceful Indians, cut them up while they were still alive, cut out the vaginas out of the women to decorate their saddle horns. Cut the breast off women and sewed them into purses to sell for tourist items along Turk St. in San Francisco, hawked the "souvenirs" on passenger trains until the buyers became nauseated. Killing the innocent has its own fuel. Remember Rommel's orders, when the Germans grew tired of killing. "Shoot anything!" It is both a kind of sickness, an obsession, a disorder, a hunger that manifests itself in some people stronger than in others.

In my rearing, religion was bearable, because I realized that most people need comfort in the fact that we are here and don't really know why. I enjoy old hymns and gospel music as well as classical religious masterpieces. As far as the everyday experience, I developed enough values to keep me on an even keel, more or less. My feelings would oddly be more contemporary, as I read from a rocker in this month's Rolling Stone, which I've thrown out. But the gist of the rocker's belief was that he didn't believe in anything, but whatever faith others need, they should have. This sums up roughly, what I call The Age of Apostasy, For the sake of "movement" I'll begin it with REM's line, "that's me on the corner, losing my religion." But for the sake of my own consciousness, I believe in belief, which is to say that I have hope in my heart. For what, of course, I have no idea. And this brings me to my point. No one knows anything about the what, why, who and how of our existence.

Through the centuries, religions have helped humans to not go mad. But in so doing, they have committed all madness and sins known to man. At this point in history, after 50,000 or so wars, we are still going at it, in the name of Allah or God or whatever. My reasoning is that it is all based on stories, some with roots, but that is all they are. Every religion is a complete fabrication, Fiction. A Fairy Tale. We have no fact, only passion at best. Ezra Pound mention in his writings that the more gods we had during early history; to have a god for almost everything, the more men acted like gods. Now, the more abstract our beliefs, the more evil we become. Our nature has gotten worse, not better. We have no religion in fact or action; that is easily demonstrated. And our God is more abstract, but some believe Christ will come and pluck them out of their Buick while driving down the expressway on judgment day. The "evil" one's look forward to a Las Vegas in the clouds with all the shekels of Allah and 72 virgins, living in a world of madness, of worn fiction the faithful still cling to (mainly in lifestyle). The change in our being is long overdo. We, the walking dead, clinically alive and technologically irreverent.

I will try to define my philosophy further as well as some of its components. I have to use the politically incorrect pronoun man because the point of view requires it. The nomenclature I have created for the philosophical treatise are mine and won't be in the dictionary.

PATHOTHEISM: A definition:

The result of a subconscious deism bought on by an "neuropsychodeistic" disorder of not knowing a self rational for our being, our existence. It is the eternal fear of death that is ipso facto the fear of life. It is a phobia of singularity, the amount of psychosis regardless of orthodox faiths, paradoxically in all cases both the cause of and the relief of our reason (when we think of it) of why we are here, what we are doing and why. And the fact that we wonÕt be here, and where will we go, and will there be any further trace of our singularity? I will exam some possible traits and results of this affliction written history is full of and that IÕve called psychotheistic, or if I approach philosophically in reason, "psychodeistic." Even Sappho, whose sorrow was compounded when her pet bird died, had neither gods, nor god for an answer. Of course, much more hideous things throughout history have happened, in the name of god or without an answer from god, and still do. We have convenient idiocies such as "as God works in strange ways" or in "The name of Allah", etc. to assuage the hurt for the faithful, but through thousands of years, the words are a bit shopworn, and the illiterate may be the blessed in that regard. In this treatise, I can only touch on a very few atrocities that should alert the hypocritical, but it is with my sincere compassion that people do need prayer and faith to make life bearable. Even within religions, especially Eastern, it is reasonable to have prayer and meditation to help protect the mind from the thought of impermanence of Life. As Cobain sang, "We are stupid/ and contagious/ here we are now/ entertain us."

I can see how many upon this earth would support organized region. I support it when I find people of true religious spirit. But the carnival of Religion, forget it. The pomposity. Of what? Of maggots, their purpose, clear. Who on earth can tell me what we are doing here? No one. "Self Reliance?"

When the Pope visited Mexico, I watched the television news of the great arrival, swelled masses around the bullet-proof Popemobile (something cartoon-like about the pontiff's wheels) and something too serious about a swell of people. The news cameras panned over the masses and focused in on a man who was standing beside a life-size cardboard cut out of the Pope-Prop a photo-collage against a background mass to be placed on the icon stack in living rooms. The reporter then interviewed a woman standing with child in arms, the only madonna and child in Chiapas. The news photographer asked her why she wasn't making her way down in the masses converging to see the pope? He's just like any other man", she said, "no more, no less, a human born to this earth of flesh and blood like you and me." She just happened to be there when the crowd formed around her village. It is her simple radiance that would support my belief in belief. She holds frail hope of a spirit beyond polluted flesh: this life that populates the unknown like a cancer destroying its host, abstracting gods and icons, symbols and beliefs, and blame, and the horrible, murderous sufferings that all religions bring. And the wars that have all the photos of ravaged children at the end. Where is the memorial for Mai Lai? A photo, like all the rest. In the bellows of the distance of all blank space the innocent meet in spirit. In the dark room, images are brought to shape, maybe like dying and rebirth. Beyond the cartoon revelations that destroy the world, beyond all those praying masses bent with their asses in the air, beyond all those praying banging their heads to the wailing wall. Go down, Jesus pointing to the lynch mob's born again scapegoat on morning's terrible death sentence to all who claim certainty to some godly abstraction for this dying planet of greed to contribute slyly to murder the innocent creations.

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