The atheists I grew up with in Texas were a tad bit pluckier than today’s lardy hagfish atheists who file lawsuits every winter when they see a child wrapped in swaddling clothes.
This has been a busy week for the Grim Reaper, slashing out at friend and foe, winning each battle fought against clay-footed humans who earned obituaries on the front page inspired by love or hate or both. Words often have a life of their own, particularly in matters of life and death. Cosmic coincidences in man's fate bring to our attention very different men merely because they died within days of each other.
Perhaps not since Madalyn Murray O'Hair and Carl Sagan has there been such an "evangelical" atheist as Christopher Hitchens, the writer and social commentator who died last week after a long and public battle with esophageal cancer.
The death of the world's leading self-styled atheist (may his soul rest in peace) occasions reflection about his, shall we say, firm convictions regarding the truth of religion -- any religion.
I am greatly saddened that Christopher Hitchens is gone. There is no one with whom I disagreed more who I admired so much.
There are a few people you read on the web, hear on the radio or see on TV and think, “I’d really like to meet that person.” When I moved to DC in 2001, I had a mental short list of those people, and Christopher Hitchens was right at the top.
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