My Batman moment.

At least that's my term for it.

See, Bruce Wayne had that moment when a bat flew into his window, and he knew the costume would be a bat, and then and there, he knew he was going to be Batman.

At essence, it's that moment where what you're going to do, and how you're going to proceed becomes crystal clear.

The Batman moment.

I had mine at RD.net.

Long boring story, I'll try to condense it...



I guess we start with David Robertson.

He's the author of the anti-atheist tract, "The Dawkins Letters", and it's a crappy book, and he's a little crap weasel of a person who's trolled the board there since before I ever got there.

I could ramble on about the horrible crap he's said, and the lie after lie, but...crap weasel sums it up.

Well, the one instance that always jumps out at me was the time he claimed to have consoled some couple whose baby had died, and then used that to segue into saying atheists wouldn't care, because "atheism sees the child as a disposable survival machine".

Not a nice guy.

Okay, now we get to Richard Morgan.

Well, he was one of the regular posters when I got there, and he seemed like a nice likable guy.
He was fairly well liked, part of the circle, pretty popular.

Well, one fateful day, he starts posting at David Robertson's board, whining about what big meanies the atheists are, and he can't believe what awful treatment poor David gets, and blah, blah, blah, and atheism is so depressing, blah, blah, blah, but he just can't bring himself to believe in Christianity because of what he knows, but he wishes he could, and could somebody help him, blah, blah, blah, and wah, wah, waahh.

And we're all fucking gobsmacked back at RD.net.
We can't believe this bullshit is coming out of him.
Whining what big meanies we were to not just David, but HIM, when we were always awesome to him (Richard) and were the best of friends to him.
And David? He got back what he dished out, he wasn't no fucking victim of anything.

So, the next day, is where the worm really turned, next day, he posts at Robertson's site about how he's all filled with joy, that he had this mind-blowing epiphany experience, and he's rediscovered Jesus, and he was there all along, and la de da de daa, and kissing David Robertson's ass sloppily and noisily, thanking him for "being in the right place, and the right time", and of course, Robertson is happy as a pig in shit, like, this is the ultimate coup for him, so he's grinding it all in, and being a total smarmy grinning twat.

It was just disgusting.
But whatever.
Screw drama.
And drama was what I think he wanted making it a spectacle.

We were disappointed, but like, fine, this makes you happy, Richard, we wish you well, bye bye.
Y'know?

Well, dude didn't stay away, kept trolling, and pulling bullshit, and we ended up telling him off, and parting on less friendly terms than the first time.

He still pops up every now and then.
Never pleasant.

But anyway, after his epiphany, I had my epiphany.

It hit me like a bolt of lightning, a violently strong sense of resolve and certainty, that that's it, that's the line carved in reality right there, those are the stakes, that sad frightened old man, or sanity.
That's what crawling back to theism looks like.
No going back. Ever.
My atheism snapped into sharp focus.
There was never any doubt in my conscious mind, I was never gonna go back to Deism, or definitely not Christianity, but, it clarified for me, I couldn't even retreat into the comfort of the fuzziest of superstition, not luck, no saying "please please, please", with my fingers crossed, nothing.
Cuz I saw the perfect illustration of what that retreat looks like.
It looks like Richard Morgan kissing David Robertson's ass, and it's horrifying and gross.
Like a woman with two black eyes taking her man back.

And with that image in mind, I knew I had to oppose with my thoughts and words all forms of bullshit.
The whole ball of wax.

I've been called to it.
Not mystically, but however.
In my genes, my upbringing, my experiences, the fabric of who I am.

My destiny snapped into focus then.
And there was no going back.

Every time I doubt, I think of the alternative, the opposite, and it's always Richard Morgan.
No, *head shake* no fucking way.
No fucking way.
That gave me Rocky determination.
I'd rather die than run away from reality like that.

Cuz that's the stakes.
That's what the world looks like when you let superstition take over.
Richard Morgan.
A big fucking bowl of Richard Morgan with David Robertson standing over it laughing and counting money.
No fucking way.
Nuh, uh.
No.

And I not only have my days of doubt if it's a worthy mission, but I have my days of doubt if it's hopeless, and Quixotic, and that if the fatalists are right, and humanity is a piece of shit, and the status quo is indestructible, and just shut up, and keep my head down, and live my dumb little life, and live it selfishly, and scrape for money, and buy toys, and say "fuck it", to everyone else, like the fucking greed-mongers of our culture do.

*Head shake*
No.

I couldn't wake up in the morning.
I have to be stubbornly optimistic, or I just can't fucking live.
And that's just that.

If it gets rough, I just think of Richard Morgan, and the rest is easy.
It's a stare into a dark abyss that shocks me back on track every fucking time.