So you’re watching Sesame Street, right? If you were a kid like me, growing up in the frigid North lands (because one character class always hails from the frigid North lands), you were probably watching it after school in the late afternoon, when the sun sets at 4pm in deepest winter. Maybe mom was in the other room cooking dinner, and you hadn’t turned on the light yet, seeing as you were so engrossed in what your muppety friends were up to and hadn’t noticed the encroaching gloom that now surrounds you in the rec room. Suddenly, and without warning, the television springs to life with a jarring, unnatural sound! Neon bright letters that look like the distorted faces of a madman’s nightmare multiply and writhe on screen, and in an instant are gone. You bolt from the room, trying to seek solace in the kitchen, with mother, where all is safe and warm… only to find that tonight all that awaits you is meatloaf. Again.
It is then that you know in the pit of your soul, there is no god.

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