Quoted from George Willson Steven8 left of his own free will. I don't know his reasons, but no one here asked him to go. Golden Compass? That's easy. The writer pissed everyone off and made it into a circus. There is such a thing as bad publicity and whether you like it or not, the church segment of the world holds a lot of pull. Pullman's remarks did not endear that particular segment to his books. We may have a freedom of religion in the US, as soon as Pullman made his book overtly anti-religious, it brought out the church crowd, and Warner Bros. likely wanted no part of that kind of battle. This differs from the church segment attacking Harry Potter in that JK Rowling never attacked anything religious in the book or story, and so it was just "a bunch of fanatics." When you say "I killed God at the end," the chances of pissing at least someone off are pretty good. Of course I flipped right to the end of the last book to find out what he did, and I could see how that would upset some people. EDIT: I'd be interested to see if anything has changed since that article with was done on the heels of last year's little disaster.

I understand exactly what you are saying here George.

One of the things that I don't like, (actually being a very devout believer in God), is that religion, although a stepping stone in evolution, and thus created by God, is nonetheless fraught with mechanical observances and in the end, if you go into many churches, you'll see the "deadness" of behavior and it sucks. (Stupid writer writes only "sucks").

The thing is. (always a thing) is that nature is before us and none of us can refute that. Are we alive? Seems so cause I've got a bloody headache or I'm starved as hell. Is there a God? Seems so 'cause if ya can bloody well say yuz a feelin' a godamned headache comin' on or a hangover or you're starved as hell, you might also contemplate the idea that as sure as you feel that shit, there might be a God.

And what the hell's it all about? Maybe so that we don't just exist as a bloomin' computer program that He wired and fixed according to pain and pleasure?

I don't know how to say this, but the best way I can think of is that God made all of these contradictions. And as much as anybody will tell you it sucks to feel pain, it comes from a good and benevolent hand, but that's a story you need to figure out for yourselves. I can't give you that, or it would be just like Mom and Dad saying, "This is the way, trust us 'cause we know because of experience." And the kid goes, "Ya right. Like they're a couple of stodgy old folks and what do they know anyways?!"

The whole response here, though you might be thinking "what the hell" again is in response to "The Church" in George's post: whatever church you want to name, lashing out at: whoever you want to name, and acting like they're righteous. That's one of the reasons why I don't like to pretend about anything or act like negative aspects don't exist. They do. They exist inside of me...

Do I want to cover them up? No. It's going to be 2010 and people are waking up to what's real. Negative aspects exist. Period. Inside and outside of churches around the globe. And thank God that J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter books weren't banned.

It couldn't have happened anyways. As Shakespeare said,

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.


So none of us should judge as we're all part of a great gathering.

God's created one as much as the other and we're so blessed and cursed as to have to figure it all out and come to some conclusion. Can we?

Anyways, I love the idea of this "Whatever Happened To..." thread. I will enjoy reading this especially because it always amazes me how things come and go and you wonder where and when.

Thank you so much,

Sandra