o lord most high, creator of the cosmos, spinner of galaxies, soul of electromagnetic waves, inhaler and exhaler of inconceivable volumes of vacuum, spitter of fire and rock, trifler with millennia - what could we do for thee that thou couldst not do for thyself one octillion times better? nothing. what could we do or say that could possibly interest thee? nothing. oh, mankind, rejoice in the apathy of our creator, for it makes us free and truthful and dignified at last. no longer can a fool like Malachi Constant point to a ridiculous accident of good luck and say, 'somebody up there likes me.' and no longer can a tyrant say, 'god wants this or that to happen, and anybody who doesn't help this or that to happen is against god.' o lord most high, what a glorious weapon is thy apathy, for we have unsheathed it, have thrust and slashed mightily with it, and the claptrap that has so often enslaved us or driven us into the madhouse lies slain!"

-the reverend c. horner redwine, the church of the weary space wanderer - barnstable first church of god the utterly indifferent