So the Bartender Says to the Horse --

Why the long face?

Alright, so I explained why I like and respect thinky atheists. But there are plenty of stinky atheists, too, and my bonhommerie is as stressed in thinking about them as it is with the feelgood self-help pseudopagans who take their spiritual direction alternately from 'Prosperity Gospel' quacks and shrink-wrapped plastic 'I Ching' sets from Barnes and Noble.

Part of the stinkiness I can't bear is their frequent supercilious meanness. Anybody who believes anything is dumb, not just different, wallowing smugly in willed ignorance, so restraint isn't called for: the idiots won't get the joke, anyway. Of course, religious people can be just as intolerant as this in their rhetoric, as well -- and knowledge of that fact is sometimes fodder for the mean atheists' lack of consideration. But for now I'm leaving uncharitable believers alone, since they really make my head bleed, and sticking with the angry atheists.

Now, before you say, 'And what about all those rants about Calvinists on here, Vif?', let me remind you they were not about real Calvinism nor even about John Calvin. When I go off on Calvinism it is about the entrenched and invisible secularized vestiges of Calvinism that underpin so many of our attitudes, habits, and neuroses here in the U.S. It's a bit like Althusser's ideology, a bit like Barthes' mythology, and a lot like a troublesome patch of morning glories which, despite having all the flowers and stems and leaves mowed down, are just as present as ever because their roots have already spread widely through the garden. You don't have to believe in the existence of God or John Calvin or even Geneva in order for these Calvinistic assumptions or aspirations to affect your view of culture, commensality, kindness, pleasure, and success. You just have to live in the United States for a while.

So, that having been resolved to all parties' satisfaction, my stinky atheist of the day is Mr. Eddie Izzard, who appears to believe that declaring his atheism over and over earns him a de facto Genius rating and the right to make jokes ridiculing the most heartfelt and sincere of beliefs. He likewise lampoons God and Jesus themselves in extended fashion as bumbling idiots, with Jesus as a sort-of sad sack sucker-Messiah who doesn't know what he is doing and doesn't much care.

Honestly, there are ways to do religious humor. I've seen plenty of stuff that succeeds mightily and yet doesn't offend even when it pokes fun at or contrasts particular beliefs or practices. And I don't just mean brilliant Jewish insider humor, but as well stuff from outside that yet manages to convey a level of respect for the subject. It is not impossible, not at all, but it requires subtlety, maturity - and compassion.

When people cry 'Is nothing sacred anymore???' they seldom intend their lament literally. Rather, it is a wish for a return to some measure of delicacy, consideration, and politesse: what most mean is 'Is nothing off-limits anymore? Is nothing private anymore?' and 'Is nothing beyond the bounds of decency and common courtesy anymore?' It has nothing to do with religion, and everything to do with politeness.

And this is where Izzard's juvenile monologue about idiotic Creators and half-wit sons loses my interest. It was, and should have remained, settled a couple centuries ago that the natural sciences can tell us little of value about religion, and that religion likewise can tell us much about the cultivation of the soul but rather little about geology, or geometry, or cattle-breeding. That an individual has come to this epiphany in the 21st century and is shocked to find religion lacking in scientific insight (as in Izzard's version of Noah) just seems odd to me. A person can find himself unmoved by religion for various reasons, but that there is inadequate discussion of thermodynamics in John of the Cross is one, were it me, that I would feel slightly silly proffering as the crux of my atheism.

But I would also say that even if the individual believes the experiences of John, or Jonas, or Rumi or Rahman Baba to have been 'all in their heads,' ridiculing their interior experience, in addition to being uncharitable, mean-spirited, and thus indefensible morally, is also simply as stupid and pointless in a pragmatic sense as making fun of a friend who thinks he looks better in his new haircut than he does: it's his haircut; let him live in it. You have a right to your own path of haircut self-discovery, and if on it you decide you prefer to continue with the tried-and-true No. 3 in perpetuity, you absolutely are under no obligation to get a copy of your friend's style.

This reactionary approach moreover conduces to the sort of us-v.-them mentality that - you guessed it! - religion is famous, and endlessly parodied and excoriated, for: they're stupid, we're not, so join our club. That an atheist presumably above the fray should resort to the same dirty tactics he would quickly condemn in others is, while not shocking (since we're all only human) still lazy - and, again, puerile. I would cringe and wince and undoubtedly throw up a little in my mouth if I had to read my high school journals filled with every pithy quote from Camus and Gide and Rimbaud that I felt could serve to prop up my (age-appropriate, let me add) stance that Religion is idiotic crap for crappy idiots who like crappy things. Thank God no one gave me a microphone, because in my defensive and angry posture I, too, sounded a bit like a crappy idiot.

Although it helped me terrifically with French!

And to Think I Missed the 'Golden Girls' Marathon...

Eddie Izzard, Seattle, Paramount Theatre Review: Grrrrrrr.

I can't remember the last time I walked out of a show, and I have never before tonight had the misfortune of needing to walk out of a show I had been excited to see, but Eddie Izzard's performance, at least of the Seattle leg, in his 'Stripped' tour, was ghastly. Izzard normally does a lot of improv over a basic plan or outline. Here, it was as though there were no bullet points, no prior planning whatsoever, so there was nothing to improv about other than lazy references to past routines. Moreover, while it was indeed Eddie Izzard on the marquee, Eddie Izzard that I came to see, it was for Eddie Izzard performing comedy that I bought the tickets.

I realize this tour has had at times a grueling schedule, and that he has been on the road a long time. That means that the 'no bullet points' thing is not true; what is true is that instead he has had the same outline for too long, and he's sick of it, and it shows. It may have all been as brilliant as his past stuff when he started doing it months ago, but it felt like since he knew the funny bits too well he didn't bother getting to that point for the audience, as though we, too, should already know by what amusingly convoluted logic he was going to take us from Noah to ducks running the world. And since we knew, he didn't have to do the routine; he could just hint at it, and we would humor him, since he is Eddie Izzard doing Eddie Izzard.

But 'Eddie Izzard' isn't the funny bit, nor are inane and exhausting digressions or incoherent murmurings or referring obliquely to previous successful humor. The funny bit is Eddie Izzard being funny, integrating that rambling and making the journey to the point more entertaining than the point itself. In the same way I would feel cheated to have seen Charlie Parker or Edith Piaf come onstage and just 'be' Charlie Parker or Edith Piaf, it felt like Izzard was attempting little beyond pointing to himself and insisting, 'What? I'm effing Eddie Izzard! That's funny! I'm funny! Therefore my just being here should be good enough for you!' He had all the mannerisms of Eddie Izzard, all the energy, and the diction was spot on; what was lacking was the show.

Whatever. We had tasty Chinese food and good company in the International District after. And until I dropped a lipstick on my beige skirt and had to change in the car, I even looked undeniably 'summery.'