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Monday, February 18, 2013

My father was Satan


At BuzzFeed, there's a post about the 15 questions atheists are sick of answering. It's pretty good, but... I really have to disagree. I don't get tired of answering such questions, even the really dumb ones.

And also, I have to admit that question #2 is valid, because Dad really was Satan.

But he was a good dad. He was good to me and the rest of the spawn of Hell. He was very good to Mom (unlike God, Satan didn't hate women). He worked hard to provide us a good life.

My earliest memories are of Dad and his pitchfork. He wouldn't let me play with it, because that sucker was sharp, but I got a little toy pitchfork for Christmas one time. (Yes, we celebrated Christmas. Get over it!)

We used to go on vacation in August, when Nebraska and Hell become pretty much indistinguishable. Dad kept his temper well enough, all things considered - Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? - but we kids were usually smart enough to shut up when the trees started to spontaneously combust as we drove past.

OK, he wasn't perfect, but who is? I must admit that the furnace in our house was a little creepy. The screams would keep me awake at night, sometimes. But on the bright side, it kept us toasty warm, even in January.

For better or worse, I take after my mother. Still, after I've been out in the sun awhile, you can really see my resemblance to Dad, too. (Admittedly, I'm not usually that horny.)

Sadly, Dad is dead now. Science and reason killed him. But that's OK. It was time for him to go. It really was. And we still have the memories...

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