‘You Whiny Sniveling Little Atheists Are Pathetic!’
Oh, boo hoo.
You whiny, sniveling, little, pusillanimous cowards. You have the audacity to tell us Christians that we are ‘weak’ and that our religion is a ‘crutch.’ You are supposed to be so ‘courageous’, venturing forth boldly into the existential mystery of being alone, facing with stoicism the nothingness that awaits you at death, priding yourself on your realism and self-reliance. You are a bunch of feeble fakers.
Yes, you are outsiders. Go start your own damn country. This one was started by Christians, you puerile dimwits. It is Christians who established and largely Christians who fought and died to maintain the freedoms you enjoy. And Christians are still the majority. Apparently your vaulted belief system doesn’t equip you to handle being in the minority. That’s interesting, isn’t it? After all, this was and is a societal situation valiantly handled by millions and millions of Christians who suffered — and currently suffer — real oppression, violence, torture, economic deprivation, and cruel deaths. But you have to go through turning off the TV once in a while and so your precious puny feelings are hurt. How delicate and frail your mental architecture is!
You are a pitiful joke. Trembling over the mere mention of God. Running like babies to court because of your brittle feelings. ‘Oh, but judge, but judge, I saw a cross and I just can’t stand it.’ ‘I heard someone say ‘Merry Christmas’ and it hurt my feelings.’ ‘I just can’t sleep knowing there is a manger scene at the courthouse.’ ‘The sight of the Ten Commandments makes me wet my pants.’ Now we see how inadequate and feeble you really are. Rage, therapists say, is the flip side of helplessness. And so we see your rage against religion in the public square for what it is: a product of your own insubstantial internal resources. Go look at yourself in the mirror if you can bear the pathetic, contemptible sight of yourself. Our merest martyr shows you to be a wimp – fourteen-year-old Kizito of Uganda singing hymns while being burned alive. But you, you anemic, lily-livered worms – you quail at pushing the off button on the remote! Hah!
There is also a rational takedown of this pitiful little woman at Pharangula.
