Atheists say they worship only math and science...

Atheists say they worship only math and science, yet they can't provide a single piece of evidence that God doesn't exist.

Where's the proof he does?

They can't prove my 5 year olds imaginary friend doesn't exist either.

===PROOF THAT GOD DOESN'T EXIST===

Fatty: (He sits back and belches loudly, and slaps his fat, swollen tummy. It gurgles.)
Servant: (He starts to gently massage the fatty's tummy from behind. It gurgles more loudly. He coos when he speaks.) Aww, all full?
Fatty: Burrp. (He pats his well fed and well massaged gut as it gurgles away. It wobbles with each pat.)
Servant: (He kneels next to the fatty.) You did a really good job. (He kisses the fatty's plump cheek and continues rubbing away at his full and satisfied tummy.) Wow, just how many calories were in all that, anyway?
Fatty: Four thousand! Urp! (He giggles and proudly slaps his wobbly belly again. The food sloshes all around inside.)
Servant: Four thousand? With three zeroes? (He feigns amazement and gently kisses the fatty's navel as he continues massaging the big, fat belly.) And all in one meal, no less. What a champ! (He rubs a few quick and patronizing circles over the front of the fatty's belly.)
Fatty: Urrp. (He leans back into his armchair and pats his full stomach, and then simply rests his palm over it, and feels the gentle digestive motion inside as it's expertly rubbed.)
Servant: Wow, that's so amazing. I could never eat as much as you. (He kisses the fatty deeply on the lips, and, after some time, pulls away.) What's your secret? (He's wound up positioned over the fatty, with his pelvis between the fatty's fat thighs, which are pushed back to emphasize his incredibly generous bottom.)
Fatty: (He wiggles his very fat bum over the servant's erection.) I dunno. Burrrp. Guess I'm just good at eating. (His belly groans and sloshes.)
Servant: (He thrusts against the fatty's bottom and moans.) Aah... Y--You sure are. Mmf. (He leans over the fatty and cuddles his rumbling tummy.)
Fatty: Why don't you eat more? Don't you want to get fat, like a normal person? (He rubs the servant's head. His belly gurgles more under the added weight.)

Servant: Oh, I can only imagine how wonderful it must be. (He tongues the fatty's navel.) The feeling of a full stomach, the warmth and softness of a chubby body... Always having skinny guys like me waiting on you hand and foot... (He smiles and nuzzles the fatty's noisy tummy.) But no. Sadly, I can't afford to eat enough, much less anywhere near as much as you.
Fatty: Urp. Oh, so you're poor? (He grabs his gut by the sides and jiggles it a little, making the food slosh up and down inside.) Why not just get a job?
Servant: Ah, so that's your secret! (He looks up from his massaging job.) Oh, but how can someone so big work? (He gives the fat booty another hump, and then slaps and squeezes it.) Nnf-- That doesn't seem right. Don't they know you need your rest at this size?
Fatty: What? Haha, no-- burp. No, see, I don't work. (He pulls his legs back and blasts a loud, warm fart against the servant's groin.) You're right, I'm too fat to work. They just give me money. But you're perfectly healthy, you should work! (He farts a few more times.)
Servant: Oh, I wish I could. (He kisses the fatty's tummy and licks it.) But I can't do any real work. I have malnutrition issues. I'd start falling apart. (He massages the bloated tummy and listens carefully to hear the food breaking down.)
Fatty: Malnutrition? Urp! (He lets loose an extra strong fart.) So you can't eat because you're starving?
Servant: Ahnn. (He blushes and gets to work against the fatty's stinky butt.) Mmh. Yeah. Don't ask me, I don't make the rules. (He almost cums, but slows down.)
Fatty: (He scoots his farting booty against the servant.) I could help you out. Burrrp. I obviously got way more food than I need.

Servant: Oh, no, perish the thought, babe. All that's for you. (He kisses the fatty on the lips and humps his gassy rear.) Mm. (He comes up from the kiss.) That's all yours, baby. You deserve to eat as much as you could ever want. (He rubs the fatty's groaning tummy as he humps the fat, gassy bottom.)
Fatty: But don't you deserve the same? (He slowly tugs his briefs off to reveal his bare bottom. The assault on it continues, the lump in the front of the servant's dress pants now repeatedly disappearing between the two enormous, bouncy cheeks.)
Servant: Mm-- nn-- nnnf!! Oh, honey. (He unzips his pants and lets his huge boner find its way out of his boxers.) Oh, baby, I don't mind starving if it means you get fatter. You're all I need, sweetie.
Fatty: (He spreads his very extra-large farting ass and blushes brightly.) Don't go in too fast, okay? I'm a little sensitive.
Servant: (He very gently slips his hard cock into the fatty's warm bum, inch by inch, rubbing and patting his fat booty cheeks throughout.) Is it slow enough?
Fatty: Ah-- aah-- aaah!! (He throws his head back.) Nnf, stop! Sto--mm. No, it's okay, don't stop. Mmm. (He farts all around the servant's cock.) Oof. Sorry, I sure do have indigestion.
Servant: Well, that's to be expected! (He humps a little faster and pats the fatty's grumbly belly.) Four thousand calories indeed. Hmph. What a greedy plumper you are. (He slaps the fatty's farting bottom.)
Fatty: Aanf! (His ass jiggles from the violence as he farts some more.) No fair! You can't call me greedy, I thought you said I deserved it all! Oh. Oh, oh-- oh... Oogh. Slow down.
Servant: A pig who deserves his slop is still a pig, isn't he? My fat little piggy. (He spanks the fatty again and obediently slows his pace.)
Fatty: Oof. Ugh... Wait. (His tummy groans very loudly. He lets out a long, warm, wet fart.) Wait, pull out. I gotta... Nngh-- (He looses another fart of the same quality.)

>asking to prove a negative
Tryharder

Servant: Now? Really? Of all times? (He slows down to a halt, and finally tugs his cock gently out of the fatty's booty, steadying himself against the fatty's shoulders.) Ugh. (He wipes fecal residue off his cock with his shirt.) Can you make it to the toilet?
Fatty: I-- I don't know! Prrrpt. (His booty starts to sound more desperate.) I really gotta go, really bad. Plbbbt. Ooh, I think I ate too much for dinner last night.
Servant: Of course you did. Nothing wrong with that. (He smiles and pats the fatty's plump, smelly butt as the tip of a brown log starts to emerge from it. He pushes it back in and holds a hand against the fatty's back.) Think you can walk?
Fatty: Oogh, no... Frrt. Frbbt. If I have to walk, I'll lose it everywhere. Aah! (He clutches his lower gut. The air is saturated with farts.)
Servant: Ugh, this won't be good for me... Hold on tight. (With an intense grunt, he picks up the fatty by the bum, holding him like a toddler. He groans in pain and shakes all over underneath the fatty's weight.)
Fatty: No, wait, don't spread my cheeks like that! Flbbp. (A thick, fat, steamy log urges its way slowly out from between the enormous cheeks, nudging and coiling against the servant's palm underneath.)
Servant: (He's running as fast as he can given he's so skinny and holding such a massive plumper in his arms.) I--It's okay, just hold on a little longer!!
Fatty: Plooorrrrt. Ah, ahh, I--I don't know if I can! (He's straight up having a nice old poop into the servant's hand at this point. It's squishing and oozing between the fingers and up into the fatty's crack, and all over his bum.)
Servant: Hang in theeeere!! (Wincing in disgust, he bursts into the bathroom and quickly plops the fatty's greedy, dirty bottom down on the seat. The servant pants and heaves, and falls to his knee, and then to his side, and then onto his back, exhausted to the point of physiological danger.)

You don't prove something doesn't exist

Fatty: Ahhh. (He finishes dropping his big load in the toilet.) Fbbrt. Ploorp. Plop. All done! (He pulls his thick thighs back and proudly displays his dirty, stinky, wagging bottom, sagging and smushing on the seat.)
Servant: O--Okay, I--I'm coming. Just... J--Just be patient, now, sweetheart. Hah... Haahh... (He slowly drags his skin-and-bones naked body along the floor, and when he reaches the fatty, he leans up on his elbows and gently spreads the enormous, messy cheeks.) Aahhh... Heh, g--goodness. (He glances down between the cheeks into the bowl at a big, foul dollop at least twice the size of his whole head.) Your bottom did quite a lot of work to get all that food back out of you, didn't it?
Fatty: Pffaaaarrt. Heheh! (As if in response, the burst of nasty gas surges out from between the soiled, sweetly spread cheeks, drowning the servant in rotten booty smell. The fatty wiggles his piggly rump with glee.)
Servant: Ghh! (He gags, unable to breathe, tempted to vomit but unable since he hasn't eaten. Nonetheless, he keeps the cheeks spread, and bravely inches his face closer to the steaming brown mess all over the fatty's giant ass.) Now, sweetie, try to relax.
Fatty: Plbbbt. (It goes right up the servant's nose.) Wait, what are you doing? (He looks down between his legs to see the servant's head suffering quietly between his booty cheeks.)

Servant: Having the first meal I've had in a month. (He chuckles at his own joke for a moment.) Now, be still, babe. You'll be all clean soon, I promise. (He laps his tongue out. Twitching in revulsion and arousal, and using both palms to hold open the round, overfed gates to his brown heaven, he drags his drooling, leathery tongue through the seething crevice of the stinky rear, lapping up a LOT of smelly turds that got up there, periodically swallowing as he solemnly does what he considers his job. His warm cock is throbbing and pulsing beneath his chin, DESPERATELY wanting some of that fat, smelly chocolate pie, but he can't so much as even calm it, needing both hands to keep him up to his ears in the fatty's gluttonous filth, leaving him a moaning, horny wreck, as starved for ass as his emaciated frame would suggest he is for food, periodically biting his lower lip in between lickings as he cleans the stinky butt.)
Fatty: Is this what skinny people eat? Faaart! (The booty is nearly spotless by now. The tip of another log pokes up against the servant's nose.) Urp. You feed fat people all the real food and then eat what comes out?
Servant: Ahhnnmmmf. Slrp, slrp. Glllp--Yes, baby cakes. You have it just right. You're so smart. (He's just swallowed the last of the poo that was on his sweetheart's bum. He holds a finger against the thick, noxious log to ask a question. His grip tightens nervously, the rolls of squeaky clean butt fat squishing between his fingers.) Sweetie, if you have to go some more, I have to ask you something, and you can say no, but...
Fatty: Oh, PLEASE take care of it! Don't say you're tired, oh please oh please. I'm so big and fat, I don't think I can wipe myself if I have to. Fllbbt, crkkl. (The turd is trying to coil its way out over the servant's finger.)

Servant: (He winces and holds the thickening log back with a whole palm, leaving one buttcheek to flop closed.) Baby, of course. Don't even think something like that. I'm a slave, you silly goose. Your every need is my number one priority. (He kisses the fat bum and nuzzles it lovingly.) I was just very hungry, and I'd NEVER even THINK about depriving all the beautiful fatties of any REAL food. Your stinky booty is the last chance I'll have for awhile to eat my fill. (He cups his fingers around the warm, emerging shit that the fatty is trying his very best to hold in, but just can't, because he's so mentally weak. It's squishing and oozing all around the servant's fingers.) I guess what I'm trying to say is... Can I eat this? All of it, I mean? (He gazes up into the fatty's eyes. The look of fear and desperation on his face shines through the libidinal slack to his eyelids.)
Fatty: All of it? But--frrrrpp--but there's so much! (He wiggles his bum, grunting and trying to shake the bony little hand loose as it holds back dutifully against his emerging emergency turd, his booty hole now spread to the full diameter of the servant's palm.) Nnff--plop, splat. No! That's too greedy.
Servant: Oh, come on, I need it! Please, I'm almost dead! (He's starting to tear up, his voice degenerating into a sad, horny wail.) Sweetie pie, PLEASE! (He grips the buttcheeks and tugs at them pitifully. The fatty's poo comes loose from the palm and starts surging out sloppily in mushy little logs, burying the servant's face. He brushes steaming, stinking piles away from his mouth.) Cough, choke, gasp. Sob. Please let me eat this. I'll do anything. Sniffle. I haven't eaten for a whole month.
Fatty: You just ate, you liar! Pffaaart. (The gas rips against the servant's sunken cheeks and splatters chunks of ripe poo.)

Servant: (He's crying full on now.) No, you don't understand, it's not enough! (He deeply inhales the sickening scent of the filthy fart, and sobs some more, the fatty's plump, poopy bum serving as his shoulder to cry into as he sets to work licking it clean.) Slrp. Ulp. You don't understand, I NEED calories, I'm gonna DIE! (He licks up as much warm, steamy shit as he can off the smooth, swollen booty cheeks, graciously and lovingly sniffing the hole between as he cries into the dark, smelly crevice.)
Fatty: Oh, shut up. You look plenty healthy to me. Teehee. (He spreads his legs and reaches between them to spread his cheeks, to make it easier and more fun to fart and poo on his sad, skinny, dying little slave after that big meal.)
Servant: Nnggh... I... I'm skinny. There's a difference. (He's being buried in the fatty's warm, sloppy waste, and drooling as his tears dry.) Please. I'll do anything. (He reaches his tongue out to taste the fatty's turds, but won't take it in without his permission. He coughs. It tastes disgusting.)
Fatty: (He thinks about this for a minute, then snaps his fingers and jiggles with cruel glee.) As soon as you've absorbed those calories, you have to burn them all on hard labor. Then every cent you earn goes to feeding my tummy. Oh, and--pllllbbbbt. (The poo is smothering the servant completely now, preventing him from replying.) And clean that up. Hehehe!

===END OF PROOF===
Thus concludes the portion of this story I've written so far.

Questions:
>Should I continue?
>Where is your god now?

Question
>Is Home Depot open at 1:40 AM?

wot

Do you know if Home Depot is open at 1:40 AM? If not do you know when it opens?

You can't prove a negative

this is so awkward. you made this thread really awkward not from face value of the content you posted, but from the pointlessness of it all. It's not the same type of paradoxical pointlessness of posting the navy seal pasta or anything like that, at least those have some sort of purpose, namely, to derail a thread, to deflect criticism, or simply to serve as a reflection of how empty an empty thread really is.

Now I ask, what in the world was the purpose of taking the time to paste all of that? Was somebody supposed to care? Was it meant to be funny, or some sort of random humor? obviously you weren't trying to make a point. You tried too hard here, and we could all feel it. We all felt sorry as something was off in the air of this thread as soon as you started posting. We anguished, we anticipated an end to the posts, but they kept coming, and we looked at each other in agony. It's hard enough skimming through that on your own, but knowing that there are live people with real lives, looking at it as we post, made us all cringe into wadded paper balls, in sheer second-hand embarrassment.

Please. Go away. This isn't the place for you. You've done enough.

no

>there are no two negative numbers whose product comes out to anything but a positive number.
>math math math
>negative proven

>obviously you weren't trying to make a point.
I was in fact. My point: God doesn't exist.

The proof: above us.

The evidence of its efficacy: your response.

the odds are 1 in 10 that someone will get dubs.
Ten percent of the populace is atheist.

therefore, only atheists get dubs.

B8

ad hominem fallacy: you made a weakened version of your opponent's argument ( no true scottsman)

...

this is f=proff thy god exsts

Stop

Umm wat

Sorry I don't speak robot

athiests are simply to autsitic to think abstractly like most christians can