Monthly Archives: April 2010

So for a while this year Tuesdays were the one day a week I looked forward to. A) I didn’t work; B) it was my day to hang out in Cambridge with Sam; C) that’s the day the Savage Lovecast comes out. Yeah, the Thai place across the street is closed on Tuesdays, which sucks when I’m not broke and there’s no food in the house, but when I’m not broke on a Tuesday and there’s no food it’s because I have to pay rent soon, so I can’t afford Thai food anyway. The dollar-slice pizza place is always open, a slice of pizza is a meal and I can get that for a dollar. (Don’t tell my mother.) Also ramen is 65 cents and a decent meal, although it’s difficult to find the mushroom-flavored kind instead of the meat-flavored. Being a broke vegetarian sucks.

What I’m saying, though, is that I’ve discovered a new day that makes me happy about days: Saturday. This means that I am happy about days once every three/four days instead of once every seven. (Although Thursdays are good, too, because Thursdays are Fringe. So maybe that counts. Plus I always have money on Thursday, and the Thai place is open. So maybe I feel all right about Thursdays.)

But what I am saying is that I am more than all right about Saturdays. I am downright excited about Saturday these days. Saturday is when Doctor Who is on. It may be on BBC and not accessible to American viewership; I may have to work on Saturday instead of hanging out with my friends or my roommates; I may have to delve into the seedy underbelly of the internet to find the episode while I drink wine alone in my room while my roommates are asleep. But fuck if I don’t watch Doctor Who every god damned Saturday night.

Next week’s episode features the stone angels from Blink. I was going to rewatch that episode tonight, until I realized that it was five in the morning and that episode makes me pee my pants every time I watch it, it’s so scary. Fuck yeah Saturdays.


Patti Smith’s Just Kids is a transcendently, indescribably beautiful memoir of her relationship with Robert Mapplethorpe, and her love for him fills every word of the book.

I am going to preface this review by giving you some insight into my perspective: I am an atheist, and have been for some time. One of my very early memories – from the age of four or five – is of laying in bed and contemplating the horrifying idea of absolute nonexistence after death. My church confirmation was full of resentment of mandatory prayer meetings and the use Jesus-related buzzwords in the effort to fool those around me into thinking I shared their beliefs. For most of the years after age thirteen I only went to church because sleeping in on Sunday would get me grounded from the computer that week. I spent a great deal of my subsequent teenage years alternately calling myself ‘agnostic’ and trying to figure out how to reclaim the belief in god from which so many people around me drew solace and comfort. I even considered attending divinity school, to see if I could find god there. By seventeen or so, I had given up the search, and resigned myself to viewing religion as something to be studied, as intellectually detached from Christianity as I was from Judaism or Islam. Subsequent classes at college only served to cement further my relationship with religion as an intellectual, historical, and literary fascination.

Despite my personal beliefs (or lack thereof) — primarily because of my general indifference to the idea of a belief system — I have not done a great deal of reading on atheism. I’ve had Sam Harris’s The End of Faith on my bookshelf for years and haven’t done much more than read the back cover. I’ve been turned off of the New Atheist movement because a lot of the prominent talking heads are generally kind of douchebags. Bill Maher doesn’t believe in vaccination, and in this post on Pandagon Amanda Marcotte talks about how, although atheism and feminism should go hand-in-hand, there is very little effort to combat the misogyny and minimal representation of women in the atheist movement.

Greg Epstein’s Good Without God is not about the New Atheist movement, but instead an exploration of the world of secular Humanism. Can we be moral without the carrot/stick of heaven and hell? Of course, he says. (Duh.) Epstein grounds his explanation of ethics and morality in rationalism: we are not good because god demands it and we’re afraid of going to hell, but because being Good (defined as respecting the dignity of other people and of oneself) benefits society and maximizes personal happiness.

Epstein explores the reasons behind humanity’s reliance on religion using neuroscience and history, among other things (including a particularly evocative art historical metaphor about spandrels using the archways of “causal reasoning” and the “theory of mind”) and he provides a thorough history of nonbelief, from Epicurous to Spinoza to Camus and beyond. Unlike the militant atheists — although he does mention the fact that fundamentalist religions are incredibly problematic and have a tendency to crop up inless well-educated populations — Epstein doesn’t blame people for having faith in god, and in fact argues that Humanism could also be considered to be a ‘faith’.

Epstein presents Humanism as a parallel to religion, which at some level bothers me. However, there are aspects that I find commendable. Chief among these is the SMART Recovery Program, a secular alternative to the higher power-focused twelve-step programs like Alcoholics Anonymous.

Ironically, Epstein’s book made me appreciate the New Atheists more than I had before. Both movements are intended for people who miss certain aspects of religion. Epstein’s Humanism is aimed at people who, although lacking a belief in a higher power, still feel the desire for a community of people who affirm their moral structure and “lifestance,” who need the rituals and the traditions but are divested from the concept of “god.” The militant atheism of Hitchens, Dawkins et al. are intended for people who miss the self-righteousness of religion. (Kidding. Kind of.) I agree more with Epstein’s pluralism, but I remain more or less indifferent to the whole situation, and prefer to stay in the middle.

This is a good book if you are conflicted about your relationship with religion and your disbelief in god. It is still a good book if you are a dedicated atheist without the need for an organized community structure, but has much less of an impact.