I just watched a news item on BBC World about Muslims and Christians arguing over someone wanting to build a mosque near a church, somewhere in the middle east. There was much arguing over it, and some guy predicting that if they built it, then “blood would be spilt”. Apparently the muslims want to build it to recognise some holy man or other who presumably hung out there a few years back, and the existing church is built on the spot where christians say the angel Gabriel appeared and did something or other at some point.

Look, all you fucking metal cases, who’re into this crap. Are you sick of atheists pestering you, and getting in the way of your crusades, and jihads, and wars on drugs(that-aren’t-booze) and abortion(that-isn’t-caused-by-rape) and homosexuality(unless-they’re-catholic-priests) and all the other stuff you god-botherers like to do? You MUST BE! We’re ALWAYS SPOILING YOUR FUN! PESKY ATHEISTS!

Well, hear me out, I have a solution for you. No, really. Here it is:

Please, please, please, tithe like crazy, and ask your church to sponsor research into the following scientific areas:

(a) FTL (or constant-acceleration at the very least) spacecraft drive systems
(b) Terraforming
(c) Cryogenics
(d) Arcologies

If your contributions result in a breakthrough in even just a couple of these fields of research, then you can get ALL the pesky atheists off this planet. ALL OF ‘EM. Everyone who teaches evolution. Everyone who thinks that women are people too, because the mind is more important than the flesh. People who think that just because the bible has thousands of internal contradictions and errors and incompatible commands, it shouldn’t be used as an ultimate┬áreference guide.

We’ll all go, and you can stay here, and argue over places where The Angel Gabriel appeared, and the mountain where the ark landed, and the spot where Jesus was born (or died, or whatever). It’ll all be yours. The Holy Mountains. The Mystery Spot. Disneyland. The Magic Socks of L Ron Hubbard that cure cancer if rubbed on the scalp. Whatever! It’s ALL YOURS! ALL FUCKING YOURS. And we’ll be gone, gone, gone. Sound good?

Please, think about it.

I, for one, am keen. Get me the hell off this planet.