I hate being sick immediately after Christmas. Instead of playing with all my new toys, I sit here fog-headed, snuffling, watching reruns of The Bad Girl’s Club (shut up). I feel like a little kid whose lollipop has been taken away.
I’ve decided that viruses are proof that God doesn’t exist. Let’s look at the facts. Viruses serve no purpose; they probably aren’t even technically alive. They are just these protein/DNA strings that replicate in a host body, many making humans deathly ill (or just plain dead). And I simply can’t picture the almighty creator as a pimple-faced script kiddie, giddy with schadenfreude, infecting millions of meat computers (a.k.a. people).
Seriously, give me an awesome argument for the existence of viruses, and I’ll see you at church next Sunday. With bells on.
(And no, “beautiful streaking in flowers” doesn’t count. [I can use Google too, you know])