As we near this annual day of thanks, I would like to take the unusual step of offering gratitude in the name of others. 
So on behalf the American Atheists, the Atheist Alliance, and the Ayn Rand Institute, I would like to extend a hearty 
thank-you to President Bush, his administration, and the vast majority of Congress for working so very hard to once 
and for all extinguish any notion that we are a Christian nation. 

 Not that I think our populace is suddenly devoid of (a) actual, practicing Christians, (b) the modern-day Pharisees 
exemplified by Jerry Falwell and his ilk, or (c) the vast swaths of vaguely-Protestant finger-crossers in between—it’s 
just that with reelection behind them, and apparently uninterested in the 2006 congressional elections, Bush & Co. 
have, in poker terms, gone “all in,” and clearly feel that the time has passed for a need to keep a straight face. 
If the first thing the president does upon his return to the U.S. is visit a church, don’t be surprised to see him wearing 
a t-shirt that says “So long, suckers, and thanks for all the votes.”

Frankly, I couldn’t be happier.  It’s not that I’m anti-Christian, it’s just that I’m anti-fabrication; It’s not a problem 
with piety, it’s with the pious pretense.  And although I am not a member of any of the afore-mentioned atheist 
organizations, or necessarily a subscriber to their understanding of the universe, I can’t imagine the mood among 
such an analytic people, known for their reason and rejection of the supernatural, can be anything less than giddy as well. 

What I’m saying is, the jig is up—so let’s drop the act.  Once you realize you’ve been swindled, the con goes from 
being simply deceiving to downright insulting.  In the past few years, the decisions of our government have not only 
radically changed our image abroad, but also altered our de facto reality.  Whatever Jesus we had, we done lost it. 
We are now the country that looks for loopholes in the Geneva Convention.  If we don’t outright torture people as 
a rule, then we certainly flirt with it during the slow-dances.  When there is a fog of uncertainty between war and 
diplomacy, we will choose war every time.  Those Americans paying for our engagements in Iraq and Afghanistan 
with their own blood and those reaping the long-term financial benefits are two entirely different groups of people. 

In fact, it bears mentioning here that those who led us into this current war have direct ties to the corporations now 
making hundreds of millions of dollars in government contracts.  Are we really going to keep pretending that any 
of this passes the “What Would Jesus Do” test?

Of course, the crËme de la crËme of this great unraveling has taken place domestically, and quite recently.  In the wee 
hours last Friday, the U.S. House of Representatives begged, borrowed, and arm-barred their way, by means of a 
217-215 majority, into approving $50 billion worth of spending cuts in social programs, including $700 million from 
the food stamp program—most of which goes to working families with children.  Additionally, Medicaid recipients 
(read: poor, sick) are looking at new fees, and some $14 billion is to be cut from student aid.  On the bright side, 
it’s looking like those tax cuts for the richest 1% are going to make it through intact after all.  So, happy Thanksgiving. 
To some of you.

Regarding all the assorted factoids above, let me say, I’m all for it.  Because if things get bad enough, eventually, 
everyone will get it:  It’s the manipulation, stupid.  Your faith equals votes, which engenders pandering proportional 
to your numbers.  Once in office, the Holy Endorsement changes from election tool to legislative smokescreen, as the 
officials ferret out the will of their true masters—the usual corporate America suspects—and couple their tort-reform 
and corporate energy policy with as much scriptural zeal as necessary to get grassroots support for bills which will 
eventually screw over anyone making under $250 thousand per annum.  Rick Santorum (R-PA) may hate gay marriage, 
but not as much as he hates the minimum wage on behalf of Outback Steakhouse; Likewise, Sam Brownback (R-KS)
might want to outlaw abortion, but not as much as he’d love to ditch the estate tax.  (For an in-depth exploration of 
this particular issue, read Thomas Frank’s What’s the Matter with Kansas?)

Actually, Americans have been pretty clear (if only subconsciously) what kind of behavior they look for in candidates 
for most of the last half-century:  We had a fairly sincere Evangelical president in Jimmy Carter, but the economy tanked 
under his watch, and voters kicked his peanut-farming butt back to Georgia in favor of the Great Communicator, 
who gave us the Great Stockholder Takeover, permanently altering the corporate mentality and worker equity. 
Less than a decade earlier, anti-war, anti-poverty McGovern suffered a sound shutout to Nixon, whose “secret plan 
to end the war” apparently involved… a good deal more war.

In the months leading up to the 2004 presidential election, I conversed frequently with supporters of both President Bush 
and Senator Kerry—such is the burden of majoring in political science.  Aside from the baffling notion everyone seemed 
to have that the two candidates were actually different people (which I contend that they were, and are, only in the most 
superficial sense), the most remarkable thing to me was how many of the Bush supporters cited “moral issues” as their 
fundamental reason for their preference.  When asked to define “moral issues,” the responses were as uniform as any 
campaign advisor could wish for:  Gay marriage and abortion.  And that was it, really.  Tax cuts and the war in Iraq 
were popular also-rans, but mainly, morality had been paired down to two legislative matters that, frankly, would only 
apply to people other than those who supported the issues (i.e., someone who supports a ban on abortion probably 
isn’t going to have one anyway, etc.). 

So that’s it?  All of morality paired down to gays and babies?  Please, then--somebody explain to me how the economy
is not a moral issue.  Explain to me how the environment is not a moral issue.

In the interminable debate as to whether America was founded as a “Christian nation,” let’s ask ourselves: 
If so, then to what ends?  Not in the metaphysical terms of an imagined afterlife, but in the live-or-die, 
consequence-oriented mechanics of this world.  Is the whole point of a Christian life simply to not have abortions,
to not be gay, to support tax cuts, and that’s it?

Can our linguistic knowledge be so limited that people simply don’t understand that the “–ian” suffix implies a likeness 
or an attempt to emulate?  A Christian, then, is not someone who simply takes the oath, pays the dues, and shows up 
to all the meetings—that’s what we’ve got the Rotary Club for—but rather an individual who literally tries to emulate 
the Christ figure.  Did Bush not get the memo on this?  Did none of us?