I mean My Experiments with Truth!
Lie to me, please.
But don’t fucking bother, if you are planning on telling the truth later.
Or worse, letting me find it out by myself.
This is what I want to tell all those people who made me, as a kid, to believe in all those impossibly awesome phantasmagoric supercalifragilisticexpialidocious stuff that aren’t real. God is just one among many. Here’s a touching quote from Karen Armstrong‘s, A History of God in the Chapter Death of God.
One day the Gestapo hanged a child. Even the SS were disturbed by the prospect of hanging a young boy in front of thousands of spectators. The child who, Wiesel* recalled, had the face of a ‘sad-eyed angel’, was silent, lividly pale and almost calm as he ascended the gallows. Behind Wiesel, one of the other prisoners asked: ‘Where is God? Where is He?’ It took the child half an hour to die, while the prisoners were forced to look him in the face. The same man asked again: ‘Where is God now?’ And Wiesel heard a voice within him make this answer:’Where is He? Here He is – He is hanging here on this gallows.’
But then, I guess as you grow up, there is always a point when your God dies or at least stop existing in the same way you thought it did as a kid. And finally when you’re working in a city with days that just don’t end, all you are left with is some form of classification of good and bad things in life. Maybe I can still call the set of all good things God. But, what’s the point.
*Elie Wiesel, Nobel Prize winner