Do you believe in God(s)?

[DemonzLunchBreak]

0_o

STOP THAT

[t̷s͢uk̕a͡t͜ư]

0_o

STOP THAT

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way--in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

There were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a plain face, on the throne of England; there were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a fair face, on the throne of France. In both countries it was clearer than crystal to the lords of the State preserves of loaves and fishes, that things in general were settled for ever.

It was the year of Our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Spiritual revelations were conceded to England at that favoured period, a sat this. Mrs. Southcott had recently attained her five- and-twentieth blessed birthday, of whom a prophetic private in the Life Guards had heralded the sublime appearance by announcing that arrangements were made for the swallowing up of London and Westminster. Even the Cock-lane ghost had been laid only a round dozen of years, after rapping out its messages, as the spirits of this very year last past (supernaturally deficient in originality) rapped out theirs. Mere messages in the earthly order of events had lately come to the English Crown and People, from a congress of British subjects in America: which, strange to relate, have proved more important to the human race than any communications yet received through any of the chickens of the Cock-lane brood.

France, less favoured on the whole as to matters spiritual than her sister of the shield and trident, rolled with exceeding smoothness down hill, making paper money and spending it. Under the guidance of her Christian pastors, she entertained herself besides, with such humane achievements as sentencing a youth to have his hands cut off, his tongue torn out with pincers, and his body burned alive, because he had not kneeled down in the rain to do honour to a dirty procession of monks which passed within his view, at a distance of some fifty or sixty yards. It is likely enough that, rooted in the woods of France and Norway, there were growing trees, when that sufferer was put to death, already marked by the Woodman, Fate, to comedown and be sawn into boards, to make a certain movable framework with a sack and a knife in it, terrible in history. It is likely enough that in the rough outhouses old some tillers of the heavy lands adjacent to Paris, there were sheltered from the weather that very day, rude carts, be spattered with rustic mire, snuffed about by pigs, and roosted in by poultry, which the Farmer, Death, had already set apart to be his tumbrils of the Revolution. But that Woodman and that Farmer, though they work unceasingly, work silently, and no one heard them as they went about with muffled tread: the rather, for as much as to entertain any suspicion that they were awake, was to be atheistical and traitorous.

In England, there was scarcely an amount of order and protection to justify much national boasting. Daring burglaries by armed men, and highway robberies, took place in the capital itself every night; families were publicly cautioned not to go out of town without removing their furniture to upholsterers' warehouses for security; the highwayman in the dark was a City tradesman in the light, and, being recognised and challenged by his fellow-tradesman whom he stopped in his character of `the Captain, ' gallantly shot him through the head and rode away; the mail was waylaid by seven robbers, and the guard shot three dead, and then got shot dead himself by the other four, `in consequence of the failure of his ammunition:' after which the mail was robbed in Peace; that magnificent potentate, the Lord Mayor of London, was made to stand and deliver on Turnham Green, by one highwayman, who despoiled the illustrious creature insight of all his retinue; prisoners in London gaols fought battles with their turnkeys, and the majesty of the law fired blunderbusses in among them, loaded with rounds of shot and ball; thieves snipped off diamond crosses from the necks of noble lords at Court drawing-rooms; musketeers went into St. Giles's, to search for contraband goods, and the mob fired on the musketeers, and the musketeers fired on the mob, and nobody thought any of these occurrences much out of the common way. In the midst of them, the hangman, ever busy and ever worse than useless, was in constant requisition; now, stringing up long rows of miscellaneous criminals; now, hanging a house-breaker on Saturday who had been taken on Tuesday; now, burning people in the hand at Newgate by the dozen, and now burning pamphlets at the door of Westminster Hall; to-day, taking the life of an atrocious murderer, and to-morrow of a wretched pilferer who had robbed a farmer's boy of sixpence.

All these things, and a thousand like them, came to pass in and close upon the dear old year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Environed by them, while the Woodman and the Farmer worked unheeded, those two of the large jaws, and those other two of the plain and the fair laces, trod with stir enough, and carried their divine rights with a high hand. Thus did the year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five conduct their Greatnesses, and myriads of small creatures--the creatures of this chronicle among the rest--along the roads that lay before them.

It was the Dover road that lay, on a Friday night late in November, before the first of the persons with whom this history has business. The Dover road lay, as to him, beyond the Dover mail, as it lumbered up Shooter's Hill. He walked uphill in the mire by the side of the mail, as the rest of the passengers did; not because they had the least relish for walking exercise, under the circumstances, but because the hill, and the harness, and the mud, and the mail, were all so heavy that the horses had three times already come to a stop, beside once drawing the coach across the road, with the mutinous intent of taking it back to Blackheath. Reins and whip and coachman and guard, however, in combination, had read that article of war which forbad a purpose otherwise strongly in favour of the argument, that some brute animals are endued with Reason; and the team had capitulated and returned to their duty.

With drooping heads and tremulous tails, they mashed their way through the thick mud, floundering and stumbling he between whiles, as if they were falling to pieces at the large joints. As often as the driver rested them and brought them to a stand, with a wary `Wo-ho! so-ho then!' the near leader violently shook his head and everything upon it--like an unusually emphatic horse, denying that the coach could be got up the hill. Whenever the leader made this rattle, the passenger started, as a nervous passenger might, and was disturbed in mind.

There was a steaming mist in all the hollows, and it had roamed in its forlornness up the hill, like an evil spirit, seeking rest and finding none. A clammy and intensely cold mist, made its slow way through the air in ripples that visibly followed and overspread one another, as the waves of an unwholesome sea might do. It was dense enough to shut out everything from the light of the coach-lamps but these its own workings and a few yards of road; and the reek of the labouring horse steamed into it, as if they had made it all.

Two other passengers, besides the one, were plodding up the hill by the side of the mail. All three were wrapped to the cheek-bones and over the ears, and wore jack-boots. Not one of the three could have said, from anything he saw, what either of the other two was like; and each was hidden under almost as many wrappers from the eyes of the mind, as from the eyes of the body, of his two companions. In those days, travellers were very shy of being confidential on short notice, for anybody on the road might be a robber or in league with robbers. As to the latter, when every posting-house and ale-house could produce somebody in `the Captain's' pay, ranging from the landlord to the lowest stable nondescript, it was the likeliest thing upon the cards. So the guard of the Dover mail thought to himself, that Friday night in November, one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five, lumbering up Shooter's Hill, as he stood on his own particular perch behind the mail, beating his feet, and keeping an eye and a hand on the arm-chest before him, where a loaded blunderbuss lay at the top of six or eight loaded horse-pistols, deposited on a substratum of cutlass.

The Dover mail was in its usual genial position that the guard suspected the passengers, the passengers suspected one another and the guard, they all suspected everybody else, and the coachman was sure of nothing but the horses; as to which cattle he could with a clear conscience have taken his oath on the two Testaments that they were not fit for the journey.

`Wo-ho!' said the coachman. `So, then One more pull and you're at the top and be damned to you, for I have had trouble enough to get you to it--Joe!'

`Halloa' the guard replied.

`What o'clock do you make it, Joe?'

`Ten minutes, good, past eleven.'

`My blood' ejaculated the vexed coachman, `and not atop of Shooter's yet! Tst! Yah! Get on with you!'

The emphatic horse, cut short by the whip in a most decided negative, made a decided scramble for it, and the three other horses followed suit. Once more, the Dover mail struggled on, with the jack-boots of its passengers squashing along by its side. They had stopped when the coach stopped, and they kept close company with it. If any one of the three had had the hardihood to propose to another to walk on a little ahead into the mist and darkness, he would have put himself in a fair way of getting shot instantly as a highwayman.

The last burst carried the mail to the summit of the hill. The horses stopped to breathe again, and the guard got down to skid the wheel for the descent, and open the coach-door to let the passengers in.

`Tst Joe!' cried the coachman in a warning voice, looking down from his box.

What do you say, Tom?'

They both listened.

`I say a horse at a canter coming up, Joe.'

`I say a horse at a gallop, Tom,' returned the guard, leaving his hold of the door, and mounting nimbly to his place. `Gentlemen! In the king's name, all of you!'

With this hurried adjuration, he cocked his blunderbuss, and stood on the offensive.

The passenger booked by this history, was on the coach-step: getting in; the two other passengers were close behind him, and about to follow. He remained on the step, half in the coach and half out of it; they remained in the road below him. They all looked from the coachman to the guard, and from the guard to the coachman, and listened. The coachman looked back and the guard looked back, and even the emphatic leader pricked up his ears and looked back, without contradicting.

The stillness consequent on the cessation of the rumbling and labouring of the coach, added to the stillness of he night made it very quiet indeed. The panting of the horses communicated a tremulous motion to the coach, as if it were in a state o] agitation. The hearts of the passengers beat loud enough perhaps to be heard; but at any rate, the quiet pause was audibly expressive of people out of breath, and holding the breath, an' having the pulses quickened by expectation.

The sound of a horse at a gallop came fast and furiously up the hill.

`So-ho!' the guard sang out, as loud as he could roar. `Yo there! Stand! I shall fire!'

The pace was suddenly checked, and, with much splashing and floundering, a man's voice called from the mist, `Is that the Dover mail?'

`Never you mind what it is?' the guard retorted. `Wham are you?'

`Is that the Dover mail?'

`Why do you want to know?'

`I want a passenger, if it is.'

`What passenger?',

`Mr. Jarvis Lorry.'

Our booked passenger showed in a moment that it was his name. The guard, the coachman, and the two other passengers eyed him distrustfully.

`Keep where you are,' the guard called to the voice in the mist, `because, if I should make a mistake, it could never be set right in your lifetime. Gentleman of the name of Lorry answer straight.'

`What is the matter?' asked the passenger, then, with mildly quavering speech. `Who wants me? Is it Jerry?'

(`I don't like Jerry's voice, if it is Jerry,' growled the guard to himself. `He's hoarser than suits me, is Jerry.')

`Yes, Mr. Lorry.'

`What is the matter?'

`A despatch sent after you from over yonder. T. and Co.'

`I know this messenger, guard,' said Mr. Lorry, getting down into the road--assisted from behind more swiftly than politely by the other two passengers, who immediately scrambled into he coach, shut the door, and pulled, up the window. `He may come close; there's nothing wrong.'

`I hope there ain't, but I can't make so `Nation sure of that,' said the guard, in gruff soliloquy. `Hallo you!'

`Well! And hallo you!' said Jerry, more hoarsely than before.

`Come on at a footpace! d'ye mind me? And if you've got holsters to that saddle o' yourn, don't let me see your hand go nigh 'em. For I'm a devil at a quick mistake, and when I make one it takes the form of Lead. So now let's look at you.'

The figures of a horse and rider came slowly through the eddying mist, and came to the side of the mail, where the passenger stood. The rider stooped, and, casting up his eyes at the guard, handed the passenger a small folded paper. The rider's horse was blown, and both horse and rider were covered with mud, from the hoofs of the horse to the hat of the man.

`Guard!' said the passenger, in a tone of quiet business confidence.

The watchful guard, with his right hand at the stock of his raised blunderbuss, his left at the barrel, and his eye On the horseman, answered curtly, `Sir.'

`There is nothing to apprehend. I belong to Tellson's Bank. You must know Tellson's Bank in London. I am going to Paris on business. A crown to drink. I may read this?'

`If so be as you're quick, sir.'

He opened it in the light of the coach-lamp on that side, and read--first to himself and then aloud: `"Wait at Door for Mam'selle." It's not long, you see, guard. Jerry, say that my answer was, RECALLED TO LIFE.'

Jerry started in his saddle. `That`s a Blazing strange answer, too,' said he, at his hoarsest.

`Take that message back, and they will know that I received this, as well as if I wrote. Make the best of your way. Good night.'

With those words the passenger opened tile coach-door and got in; not at all assisted by his fellow-passengers, who had expeditiously secreted their watches and purses in their boots, and were now making a general pretence of being asleep. With no more definite purpose than to escape the hazard of originating any other kind of action.

The coach lumbered on again, with heavier wreaths of mist closing round it as it began the descent. The guard soon replaced his blunderbuss in his arm-chest, and, having looked to the rest of its contents, and having looked to the supplementary pistols that he wore in his belt, looked to a smaller chest beneath his seat, in which there were a few smith's tools, a couple of torches, and a tinder-box. For he was furnished with that completeness that if the coach-lamps had been blown and stormed out, which did occasionally happen, he had only to shut himself up inside, keep the flint and steel sparks well off the straw, and get a light with tolerable safety and ease (if he were lucky) in five minutes.

`Tom!' softly over the coach-roof.

`Hallo, Joe.'

`Did you hear the message?'

`I did, Joe.'

`What did you make of it, Tom?'

`Nothing at all, Joe.'

`That's a coincidence, too,' the guard mused, `for I made the same of it myself Jerry, left alone in the mist and darkness, dismounted meanwhile, not only to ease his spent horse, but to wipe the mud from his face, and shake the wet out of his hat-brim, which might be capable of holding about half a gallon. After standing with the bridle over his heavily-splashed arm, until the wheels of the mail were no longer within hearing and the night was quite still again, he turned to walk down the hill.

`After that there gallop from Temple Bar, old lady, I won't trust your fore-legs till I get you on the level,' said this hoarse messenger, glancing at his mare. `"Recalled to life." That's a Blazing strange message. Much of that wouldn't do for you Jerry! I say, Jerry! You'd be in a Blazing bad way, if recalling to life was to come into fashion, Jerry!'

[otters]

0_o

STOP THAT

*plagiarism*

So I win?

[t̷s͢uk̕a͡t͜ư]

So I win?

Of course not. You still need to answer the question.
Dave and I are just working ourselves steadily deeper into each other's grills about my motivations for asking.

[blue_tetris]

So I win?

Of course not. You still need to answer the question.
Dave and I are just working ourselves steadily deeper into each other's grills about my motivations for asking.

"This isn't over, Fox," Wolf scowled, his lupine cock now fully engorged, "Not by a long shot."

[scythe]

So I win?

Of course not. You still need to answer the question.
Dave and I are just working ourselves steadily deeper into each other's grills about my motivations for asking.

"This isn't over, Fox," Wolf scowled, his lupine cock now fully engorged, "Not by a long shot."

Let me help you two with that.

[otters]

So I win?

Of course not. You still need to answer the question.
Dave and I are just working ourselves steadily deeper into each other's grills about my motivations for asking.

If the other side can no longer argue, I win.

[Radium]

I believe in Humankind's inherent fear of the unknown and our desire to place ourselves as the absolute pinnacle of evolution/creation.

Do I think that's worth worshipping? No.

Very very true. Human's weak minds force them to have answers for everything. So when they can't find the answer, they make it up. Religon.

[capt_weasle]

Human's weak minds force them to have answers for everything. So when they can't find the answer, they make it up. Religon.[/quote]

Unless you just made up that answer. You sound like you're excluding yourself from your own explanation by saying "human's," as if your part of some special club of non-humans.

[Radium]

Human's weak minds force them to have answers for everything. So when they can't find the answer, they make it up. Religon.

Unless you just made up that answer. You sound like you're excluding yourself from your own explanation by saying "human's," as if your part of some special club of non-humans.[/quote]

I'm referring to the general population of humans. I however, as stated in my first post, am an atheist.

[t̷s͢uk̕a͡t͜ư]

Human's weak minds force them to have answers for everything. So when they can't find the answer, they make it up. Religon.

Unless you just made up that answer. You sound like you're excluding yourself from your own explanation by saying "human's," as if your part of some special club of non-humans.

Okay, I'm sorry, I have to applaud this post.
Very nice, capt_weasle. I'm being completely genuine; no sarcasm. That was awesome.

[blue_tetris]

All the real atheists are also robots, who get their emotions from a sattelite uplink. Humans are weak and prone to making mistakes and there will be no room for their outmoded beliefs in The Second Longyear.

[jean-luc]

This is a topic that I usually avoid expressing my opinions on, but I'm feeling essay-ey tonight...

First things first: I was raised LDS, or 'mormon.' Because of my upbringing I am well acquainted with the Bible, the book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price, which are the religious texts of the LDS church (and, of course, the Bible, and specifically the King James Version, is widely used by Christians)

That said, at this time I do not directly believe in god. I do not discount the possibility of there being superior beings, which are perhaps watching us, as I do not think that our understanding of the universe is anywhere near the level of being able to rule out such things. However, I personally have not seen evidence that there is a god, and blind faith is quite frankly not something that I am

[Keron]

I... cannot... delete posts... >_> I thought you had that taken care of, Dave. I don't even know my way in the ACP still. *cringes at phpBB*

Tsukatu, respect others at least in SD. You almost seem incapable of it. Read Rule #2 and at least abide by your own forum rules if for no other reason. Disrespect (especially in your style) quickly encourages a negative response and is not very, very far from trolling... at all. There is such a thing as intelligent trolling, I'm sure you of all would know.

As for the actual issue of respect in real life—stereotypes can be pretty nasty. You should never really stereotype unless you know it's 100% true. (Read that again and you'll end up with the first half of the sentence!) For example you cite that you do not respect Christians because they do not read the Bible. I'm Baptist and I read passages every morning and night, and pray constantly, to thank God for everything He has done, for people I know and people I don't know, and for the betterment in humility and wisdom of myself so that I may help others better. I never, EVER wish harm on any other person, even those who wrong me. Please take me out of your group!

I believe in the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, of Moses, John the Baptist, and I believe in the Holy Trinity, the Godhead of the Father, Christ Jesus the Lord born of the originally-a-Virgin Mary (so I'm not Catholic :P), and the Holy Spirit. I believe they are interdependent and have different knowledges than each other (for example, neither the Holy Spirit nor Jesus Himself know when He will return, as referenced by multiple Bible verses—only the Father knows), but that they are always synchronized in perfect harmony with each other. I believe we fight a daily battle against sin and temptation, which can be seen here (like Blackson's stupid sig. image, which I had already asked him to replace—and the Starfox posts—you can go crazy but at least not that type of vulgar, stupid content in SD!—and the more rampant swearing on this new board than ever before—indirectly encouraged by the staff itself—which I am nauseous of).

I profess myself more as a follower via faith than science, because God cannot be seen—if you truly desire evidence for Him, you will find Him and garner support for him, and vice-versa for the threadstarter and repliers.

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.

The Bible professes itself as very difficult to believe in. So of course it's only expected! But what you (*points at nonbelievers) regard as coincidence out of only nature we consider it as something more than just atoms.

Tsukatu: scientific support? I haven't looked into this much, but with regards to the Tower of Babel—please explain to me why all major languages in the world go by a 10-number system. They all loop by 10s for the next batch (after 9, 19, 29 it goes back) and not a single one (that I know of) at 9 or 11 (it doesn't go like 1-8, then 10-18, or whatnot). This suggests that all languages spawned from one single language—that is, in traditional Christianity, before God split it into the innumerable languages we recognize today.
The one Naturalistic argument I can think of is that human beings are similar and would develop similar systems of communication over time. But I would think people would still eventually be able to develop competent mathematical structures using a 9-system or 8-system counting law. (I would think the argument is weak because naturalists can only speculate on it—but I will cover myself and declare that you're quite right: just because one thing is false—evolution in your example above, the other—instant Creation—doesn't have to be true.)

[Qix]

Tsukatu: scientific support? I haven't looked into this much, but with regards to the Tower of Babel—please explain to me why all major languages in the world go by a 10-number system. They all loop by 10s for the next batch (after 9, 19, 29 it goes back) and not a single one (that I know of) at 9 or 11 (it doesn't go like 1-8, then 10-18, or whatnot). This suggests that all languages spawned from one single language—that is, in traditional Christianity, before God split it into the innumerable languages we recognize today.
The one Naturalistic argument I can think of is that human beings are similar and would develop similar systems of communication over time. But I would think people would still eventually be able to develop competent mathematical structures using a 9-system or 8-system counting law. (I would think the argument is weak because naturalists can only speculate on it—but I will cover myself and declare that you're quite right: just because one thing is false—evolution in your example above, the other—instant Creation—doesn't have to be true.)

Maybe this is just a stupid answer, but I would believe that would be because we have 10 fingers. This usually works as a starting method for the most basic parts of mathematics. But also from an evolutionary perspective, we all came out of the same place (Africa) so the fact that there are some universal similarities between humans shouldn't be that surprising (we are one species - the genes don't differ that much). Now, if we came into contact with a beings from other planets and they all used a base 10 counting system, I'd admit that that would be somewhat surprising.

[t̷s͢uk̕a͡t͜ư]

For example you cite that you do not respect Christians because they do not read the Bible. I'm Baptist and I read passages every morning and night, and pray constantly, to thank God for everything He has done, for people I know and people I don't know, and for the betterment in humility and wisdom of myself so that I may help others better. I never, EVER wish harm on any other person, even those who wrong me. Please take me out of your group!

Whoah, I didn't say that! My disrespect extends to Christians who I think have examined their faith enough that they should know better. This does lead to the outcome that I dorespect Christians who know very little about their faith (and haven't read the Bible), which I figure you might find confusing, but it is so because in my mind, they don't know better. Much in the same way that I don't blame myself for having stupid opinions in the past when I was completely ignorant of if -- I simply didn't know better.
And of course, I agree that I may know better in the future than I do now. I hope that I do, and obviously I can hope that I'm consistent with my future self. :p

I haven't looked into this much, but with regards to the Tower of Babel—please explain to me why all major languages in the world go by a 10-number system.

Look at your hands. How many fingers do you have?

[otters]

I haven't looked into this much, but with regards to the Tower of Babel—please explain to me why all major languages in the world go by a 10-number system.

Look at your hands. How many fingers do you have?

My, that's a practical number. How did we end up with ten fingers?

[blackson]

I haven't looked into this much, but with regards to the Tower of Babel—please explain to me why all major languages in the world go by a 10-number system.

Look at your hands. How many fingers do you have?

My, that's a practical number. How did we end up with ten fingers?

Why is mercury liquid at room temperature?

[29403]

Mercury atoms are too hyper to be anything close to solid at room temperature.

[DemonzLunchBreak]

I haven't looked into this much, but with regards to the Tower of Babel—please explain to me why all major languages in the world go by a 10-number system.

Look at your hands. How many fingers do you have?

My, that's a practical number. How did we end up with ten fingers?

There's nothing inherently practical about ten. Base sixteen is far more useful for many things. Why don't I have sixteen fingers?

[t̷s͢uk̕a͡t͜ư]

Look at your hands. How many fingers do you have?

My, that's a practical number. How did we end up with ten fingers?

There's nothing inherently practical about ten. Base sixteen is far more useful for many things. Why don't I have sixteen fingers?

Twelve, I was gonna say. It's divisible by 2, 3, and 4.

[Atilla]

There's also the fact that languages do not develop in isolated universes. Most languages have a plethora of bits cribbed from other languages. And, historically, several languages *did* use other bases at one time or another. Wikipedia has some examples. Even in modern English, we have "score" and "dozen", which are used to express values in base twenty and base twelve, respectively.

[jean-luc]

Per the currently accepted model of human's distribution throughout the earth, all languages stemmed from the same language, which developed in central africa. So they started counting on their 10 fingers. They started naming numbers beyond 10, but they kept using 10 as a base because it's just so convenient, what with 10 fingers.
Other languages (and counting systems) stem from this one, so now we all count by 10.

While I think that religion is primarily positive, as it gives people direction and motivates them to do good, this is certainly not so in all cases. I turn to one of my favorite poems, Lullaby by William Blake. Blake believed that the Church of England was doing wrong in a time when this was not acceptable. He wrote the following.

O for a voice like thunder, and a tongue
To drown the throat of war! - When the senses
Are shaken, and the soul is driven to madness,
Who can stand?
When the souls of the oppressed
Fight in the troubled air that rages, who can stand?
When the whirlwind of fury comes from the
Throne of god, when the frowns of his countenance
Drive the nations together, who can stand?
When Sin claps his broad wings over the battle,
And sails rejoicing in the flood of Death;
When souls are torn to everlasting fire,
And fiends of Hell rejoice upon the slain.
O who can stand? O who hath caused this?
O who can answer at the throne of God?
The Kings and Nobles of the Land have done it!
Hear it not, Heaven, thy Ministers have done it!

[Keron]

... My disrespect extends to Christians who I think have examined their faith enough that they should know better.

As in, those who claim to be Christian yet look down on others, for example? Then, in a sense, I agree too. I thought you were blanketing all non-extremists.

That's a really good answer (finger count)... I don't know why I didn't think of that. Dur. Thanks.

[otters]

I think he means Christians who have figured out exactly what they believe and keep believing it. That's when he loses respect, because [sarcasm]nobody should be enough of an idiot to actually be a Christian.[/sarcasm]
>_<