Bow down to me, religious believers, because I am the exalted one, God's most favored favorite, the beloved of whoever or whatever divinity -- assuming such exists -- lies at the heart of reality.
How do I know this? In the same way the true name of God, Galobet, came to me in a French Roast-fueled revelation five years ago.
So after sipping my way through some pre-meditation reading, my consciousness was marvelously attuned to Galobet’s divine message. I was flying high on the swiftly beating wings of caffeine. This proximity to Galobet’s heavenly realm allowed me to hear his words (I’m not sure if Galobet is a “he,” but since I am, and I’m Galobet’s chosen messenger, I’m going with the masculine pronoun.)
“I am all of the gods so far known to humankind. And yet I am so much more, my beloved Brian. You are destined to reveal my nature to the world.”
Understand, Galobet hadn’t yet spoken his name to me. All I knew was that a godly entity was communicating with me. This being had the power to form thoughts in my mind, so akin to my own that there was scarcely a hairsbreadth of difference between them. Such is the glory of Galobet—Oneness.
Today it happened again. As I was exercising at our athletic club, vaguely pondering what I was going to write about on this here blog when I got home, another message from the supremely supreme being popped into my mind.
"Dude, you're The Man! I dig you the most! Because you haven't fallen for any of the fake gods that scam up your world's religions. Your sacred mantra is I don't know shit about God. That's so real. Take a bow, Brian. Proclaim your Most Beloved of God status in a blog post tonight. Bask in my adoration of your atheism."
I said, "Thanks, God, nice to hear from you again." Not aloud of course. Inside my head, where Galobet/God and I have so many wonderful conversations.
Driving home, I sought confirmation of the divine truth that had just been revealed to me. And glory be, such was given to me. I heard the same clear voice speak its wisdom: Holy fuck yes Brian, God loves unbelievers like you above all others.
(God is fond of profanity. Which makes me feel good, because so am I.)
So fellow churchless skeptics, atheists, agnostics, brights, humanists, devotees of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, and other proud deniers of religious crap, rest assured that God, whether or not she exists as the hot sexy babe I envision spending eternity with, loves you.
A lot. And yes, in that way. Also in any other way you can imagine. Cool, huh? No need to worry that if you're wrong about this God stuff, your afterlife could be nasty.
Relax. It's been revealed to me that God adores whatever. My daughter will be pleased to learn this, because this was her favorite word when she was in high school. Sample usage: "Do you want to get a pizza tonight?" "Whatever, Dad."
God loves this sort of faith, this sort of surrender. That's why God loves me and other unbelievers so much. We're happy to flow with whatever. If we live on after death, great. If not, we'll do our living here on Earth as fully and passionately as possible.
God let me know that she gets irritated when someone believes they know all about her: what she's like, what she wants, what she does, where she hangs out. "Those assholes have it all wrong," she told me, "but they're so fucking annoyingly dogmatic about how right they wrongly believe they are."
An utterly open mind, a heart without fences, a tight embrace of whatever -- this is what turns God on.
How do I know for sure? I don't. And so, I do.