God, No!
Authors: Penn Jillette
ALSO BY PENN JILLETTE
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BY PENN JILLETTE AND MICKEY D. LYNN
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BY PENN JILLETTE AND TELLER
Penn & Teller’s How to Play in Traffic
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Jillette, Penn.
God, no! : signs you may already be an atheist and other magical tales / Penn Jillette.
p. cm.
1. Religion—Humor. 2. Atheism—Humor. 3. American wit and humor. I. Title.
PN6231.R4J55 2011
818’.607—dc22 2010043439
ISBN 978-1-4516-1036-9
ISBN 978-1-4516-1038-3 (ebook)
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Mox
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If god (however you perceive him/her/it) told you to kill your child—would you do it?
If your answer is no, in my booklet you’re an atheist. There is doubt in your mind. Love and morality are more important to you than your faith.
If your answer is yes, please reconsider.
CONTENTS
Introduction:
The Humility of Loudmouth Know-it-all Asshole Atheists
Siegfried, Roy, Montecore, Penn, and Leather Pants
The Bible’s Second Commandment
Pastor Shirley, My Mom and Dad, Lesbians, and Jesus Christ
Auto-Tune, Tattoos, and Big Fake Tits 48
Preach to Me and Pray for Me—Please!
Agnostics: No One Can Know for Sure but I Believe They’re Full of Shit
The Bible’s Fourth Commandment
Learning to Fly, Strip, and Vomit on a 727
Supreme Court Justice Ron Jeremy
I Also Couldn’t Get Laid in a Women’s Prison with a Fistful of Pardons
Passing Down the Joy of Not Collecting Stamps
Why I’m a Libertarian Nut Instead of Just a Nut
The Three Dogmas That Hurt Americans Most
Jamie Gillis: April 20, 1943–February 19, 2010
Penn’s Bacon and a Kiss Airlines
The Bible’s Seventh Commandment
Pitching Bullshit While in Mourning
The Bible’s Eighth Commandment
Maybe That Thief Kreskin Will Sue Me This Time
In America, Noblesse Oblige Isn’t Just for Noblemen
Would This Seem Crazy If You Read It in a Book?
It’s Not the Heat, It’s the Stupidity
You Could Be Bruce Springsteen
“Things Like This Don’t Happen to Normal People”: The Greatest Story Ever Told
Afterword:
Atheism Is the Only Real Hope Against Terrorism:
There Is No God (but Allah)
• INTRODUCTION •
The Humility of Loudmouth Know-it-all Asshole Atheists
You don’t have to be brave or a saint, a martyr, or even very smart to be an atheist. All you have to be able to say is “I don’t know.” I remember sitting in a room full of skeptics when I first heard Christopher Hitchens say, “Atheists don’t have saints and we don’t have martyrs.” I’m a little afraid to put that in quotes, because no matter how brilliantly I remember any Hitchens phrase, when I go back and check, what he said was better than I remember. He is better at speaking off the top of his head after a couple of drinks than I am at remembering his brilliance later while referencing notes.
I know nothing about drinking, but I know that Hitchens did drink, and when he made that comment he was sitting next to me on the dais with a drink in front of him. But the drink was irrelevant—I could never see that it made any difference to his abilities. My doctor’s brother (how’s that for a source?) said there is such a thing as state-dependent learning. This explains the brilliance of all the jazz cats on heroin and how Keith Richards could play even a specially tuned guitar while as fucked-up as . . . well, Keith Richards. They’re performing in the same state in which they practiced. Hank Williams was so fucked-up we don’t even know which of the United States he died in. Hank’s driver drove him across many state lines all night in his long white Cadillac and when they got to Oak Hill, West Virginia, Hank was dead. Hank’s genius might have been state-dependent, but his dying wasn’t even that.
For years it seemed Christopher Hitchens was always drunk, so he was calling up information in the same state (drunk) that he learned it (drunk). I did the Howard Stern radio show a lot in the late eighties. Many times I was on with Sam Kinison. I’ve never had a sip of alcohol or tried any recreational drug in my life, and I’d come in to the Stern show as rested as carny trash could be that early in the morning—focused and ready to work. Sam would come in fucked-up.
Really
fucked-up. Stern would kick off the show and Sam was always so good. I would be sweating into the mic, trying to get a clever word in here and there while in awe of how fast, insightful, profound, and motherfucking funny Sam was every second. Howard would keep us on for a long time, and at the end of the show I’d be exhausted, and Sam would just stagger out like he came in.