Free Inquiry and The Harm Done by Religion

I enjoyed a nice surprise this afternoon. There was a free gift in my mailbox, sent with any subscription to Free Inquiry.
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I enjoyed a nice surprise this afternoon. There was a free gift in my mailbox, sent with any subscription to Free Inquiry.
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“EACH TIME I TRIED THE KEY I WAS JUST PRAYING”
What’s the Harm of Praying? Exhibit A (Uvalde):
The Chief of Police in Uvalde spent more than an hour in a corridor outside of Robb Elementary School. He called for tactical gear, a sniper, and keys to get inside. When keys finally arrived (apparently by Pony Express), he tried dozens of them. But one by one the keys failed to work. Meanwhile, the crazed gunman was blasting away, one by one, murdering children inside.
“Each time I tried a key I WAS JUST PRAYING,” Pete Arredondo explained when asked what had happened and why it took longer to get through a single school door than it typically takes to slow cook a prime rib with a couple of baked potatoes.
PRAYING? How the fuck did those prayers work out for the kids trapped in there — huh, Chief? Your imaginary sky friend apparently doesn’t exist or doesn’t give a shit about dying kids. Take your pick.
Finally, 77 minutes after the massacre began (SEVENTY-SEVEN MINUTES!), another officer was finally able to unlock the door, go inside, and stop the gunman.
Prayers are no longer just worthless, they’re a dereliction of public responsibility.
Gee, unless the officer was praying the keys WOULDN’T work.
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“What you do in this world is a matter of no consequence. The question is what can you make people believe you have done.”
― Arthur Conan Doyle
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I’ve been in the hospital (as a visitor) these past few days tending to a family matter.
Here on our floor, there’s a big whiteboard where patients can write and share encouraging things, which is nice.
See if you can guess what I wrote.
__________
UPDATE: I couldn’t help myself. New day, a new comment:

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We’re often told terrible events on earth are part of “God’s plan.” That’s to say, the murdering of infants and torturing of innocents is somehow “excusable” in this sick intergalactic passion play, so long as it’s directed by the wise old man slumbering on a white cloud as part of some grand design. Sorry, but no. I want no part of this twisted sick fantasy, nor do I want to be cast as an extra in some maniacal epic of pain and destruction.
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