The True Name of God is You.

I am a coherent and consistent collection of memories of events and

interpretation. This fact is being expressed with the memory of the English language,
the memory of computer and software manipulation, the memory of the world
beyond these walls. This fact is being expressed because I assume these patterns of
points of light and dark can be resolved by a mind into words that express meaning
and that that meaning contains utility. And perhaps that function is no more
significant that to remember who I am.

I am also the will of the machine. In this case, the machine is a biological
conglomeration given legal title to certain rights and responsibilities as an individual
member of a larger entity known as America. It is this machine that must suffer the
indignities of the physical realm. That must be fed, clothed, bathed, and rested. And
(oh, the horror) must at times be politically correct.

Basically, there is only memory and stimulus. The memory of being stimulated.
And the interpretation of all three. For instance, yesterday I was hungry. A quick
stroll to the local supermarket resulted in a Primo’s Margherita pizza, a substance
able to turn the unpleasant stimulus of hunger into the more agreeable sensation of
being sated with minimal fuss. The import of this insignificant event resides solely
within the ease of its deconstruction into the three variables.

And how complicated is simplicity? Memory indicates that the walk light is a
legal entitlement to cross the street, yet it is interpretation of memory which
stimulates further caution. I interpret the verb, ‘to drive,’ to mean a skill beyond the
grasp of the general populace. Memory and interpretation also inspired the final
result, a very specific form of nourishment. However, it was the dual stimulants of a
crowded store and a pocketful of cash directly resulting in the hit-and-run, when it
was my intention to browse…

And what of intention? Another variable of the human condition, or merely the
stimulus of memory, interpreted? I shall let god decide. You.

Patterns of light and dark; pixels of gray and green align across this monitor
with the intent to express certain meaning. But there can be no meaning without you,
for I am merely I. The Ellen January of the immediate now, and you are everything
else. And within the assumption there is anything else lies the true house of god.

No names, no capitals, no ritual; the secret of god is not to remember what you
have been told, but to forget. Religion exists to associate morality with divinity;
everything else is icing upon that bitter cake. Morality exists to constrain the will of
the individual to the law of the society; divine association is mandated because no
individual benefits from morality. None. And no conscious act is performed without
the anticipation of some benefit. Therefore, the process of religion is to restrict
actions in this life with the promise and/or threat of the next.

Unfortunately, within that process operate individuals. These individuals

collect titles and hand out names, assume the divine mandate without the mortal
responsibility, and corrupt the process they profess to serve. While any system risks
corruption from the individual desire for benefit, religion is the only one assumed
beyond human agency. Every other system can be assigned merit by historical
review; and be maintained, adjusted, or discarded appropriately. Religion’s supposed
divine origins serve to protect it from the scrutiny of mere mortals; and, perversely;
can only evolve in the direction of corruption. Consider the sacred text as the security
log of the commercial edifice of the religion itself. When things run as intended,
there’s nothing to report. It is only deviation from the norm that inspires
documentation. The problem with this security log is that people believe in it
regardless of physical evidence (or lack thereof) and the worst of these security
guards “make the facts fit the crime,” rather than the logical opposite.

And for the promise of virgins in paradise, a man will strap on a bomb.

And if that man were you?

What is the assumption being made with every story ever told? That you are
like me; memory, stimulus, and interpretation; and that together, we are humanity. Yet
I am, and nothing else. I remember, I hunger, I fear; I that assumes. I that feels the
pain, and the love, and the hate; and beyond the I of frivolous desire lurks the I of the
animal. The predator. And if you are not a meal, you are a threat; otherwise no
consideration of you would occur. Therefore, god.

I can imagine being the first man among monkeys. I peer at them cautiously
through the bushes as I finger my club, weighing their nutritional value against the
likelihood of becoming nutrition. And there you are, lurking around a tree, watching
my meal; watching me. Then god, the sense of being watched; a sense that occurs
beyond perception and memory, a sense rife with unspoken threat.

How can it be otherwise? Once I become I, everything else becomes merely

else. What is the extent of the animal? To eat, to sleep, to mate, and to die; any
awareness involved is limited to recognizing the dangers of the environment. Any
monkey has the sense to run from a lion, but it is this monkey who knows why. Big,
with teeth, claws, and appetite. Thus the dawn of understanding, mindless terror can
be subdued with a name. And for the first time in history, monkey overcomes lion. Of
 course, there was the sharpened stick, the hours of observation and careful
planning; never mind the sheer recklessness and utter dumb luck; the significance
occurred from the self recognizing fear and conquering it.

Thus the world is my domain. Everything in it is mine to use, weighed in the

balance between comfort and effort. There is no place for you. Knowing I, there is no
greater threat than you. Before me, merely hunger, fear, and sexual urge. After me,
there is the bed of moss in the cozy cave. Urge becomes desire; compulsion curbed
by knowledge. And fear exists to be vanquished. The spear subdues the lion, the cave
subdues the thunder; you too shall be overcome. Nothing you could do would exceed
my fear of what you might do; and no solution would suffice other than the final
solution. Knowing me, thinking of you being like me; addition of these two variables
always equates to death.

And so it was, the third perception; awareness of god. I felt the eyes of god
upon me when I first hunted you, and I hesitated. It is within that hesitation that
civilization was born. Thus, it is written.

You; therefore god.