(Evidence for FSM)

My Brother-in-Pasta:

Let others write of facts and figures to show his existence, for I possess evidence of a much higher order. I have irrefutable proof of a Flying Spaghetti Monster, revealed to me through divine inspiration. For I, once a disbeliever, have experienced His Wonder-Working Power first hand. Having accepted Him as my personal Lord and Provider of Yummy Pasta, my faith rests not on the mere scribbling of mortal men.

I tell my story to you, that it may be written down and passed to future generations as concrete proof of His Divine and Miraculous Power.

When I first learned of Flying Spaghetti Monsterism, I doubted Him. Living then in a closeted world of reliance on observable evidence and disprovable propositions, I taunted His adherents. Though I now recall those days with shame and mourning, I even went so far as to mock Him by spinning spaghetti on my fork, waving it around the kitchen table, and making loud “woo-woo-woo” noises until my wife slapped the back of my head and told me to stop it.

But we all intuitively understand, each of us, that evidence is only truly observable after our eyes have at last been opened to the truth. Enlightenment may come through years of rigorous personal exploration and squatting on sun-baked rocks. For others, as it did for me, revelation may come violently, through an unannounced moment of epiphany. My own Path to Enlightenment was the latter.

Several months ago, I was diving off the San Juan Islands in Washington State. Armed with a spear-gun, I felt myself the master of all I surveyed, smugly content in the illusion that I, as a member of the human race, sat atop the universal order of things. Spotting a large ling cod, I pursued the wily fish into an underwater kelp forest.

Suddenly, I was immobilized by thousands of undulating tendrils of kelp, each bearing an uncanny resemblance to his Noodly Appendage. Unannounced, a waving cord tore the air-providing regulator from my mouth. As the oxygen level in my bloodstream plummeted, the unarguable connection between Him and the origin of life on Earth came rushing at me in a rapidly approaching ball of white light.

It was then, and only then, in my darkest hour, in my moment of deepest despair, that I accepted Him as the One Legitimate and True Creator of our World and Universe.

As my heart opened to Him, miraculously, His Noodly Appendage reached out to me. I accepted His Noodly Appendage into my mouth, and breathed deeply of the air that we breath only through His Grace. It was then that He revealed himself to me.

Man has long suspected that life on this planet began in the sea. Man has long understood that kelp forests are the nursery of the marine world. But through His Divine Wisdom, the true nature of the Beginning of life has remained a secret. Only with my corporeal form stilled by thousands of His Noodly Appendages — and my mind stilled by lack of air — could I see His Truth, revealed to me and me alone as the bearer of His Revelation. I am His Prophet. Hear me now.

About 10,000 years ago, our planet was void and without form, like dough ready to be shaped into pasta. I shall not stoop to refuting the reams of misleading data propounded by our so-called scientists. His ancient texts already explain in great detail that such things exist solely at His discretion. He, in His Infinite Wisdom, did not elect to explain how our world came to be like pasta dough in the first place. Alas, this must wait for another of His Prophets, for another of His Revelations. It is not my lot to know, nor to question Him.

Seeing our world’s dough-like formlessness, He sent His Son, whose name has been revealed to me but I cannot disclose. I seek not to hide His Truth from you, but speaking the name of His Son is blasphemous. It is the Name That Cannot Be Spoken.

His Son came first to the watery reaches of our planet. This is entirely logical, because it is a fact that our planet is two-thirds water. At each place where His Son touched the barren rock of the submarine void, vast forest of Noodly Servants — what we glibly call Kelp — grew up to cover the rocks in His Image.

His Son left His Noodly Servants with elaborate instructions for the creation of All Life on our planet, which His Noodly Servants have followed to His letter in the intervening millennia. These instructions we have condescended to call “DNA”. His Revelation gets a little hazy after that, but it requires only the scantest of Faith to comprehend that cars, the Internet, skyscrapers, open-heart surgery, and MS Windows were the obvious and inevitable result.

As I regained my earthly senses, His Noodly Appendage transformed itself into my regulator hose.

The forests of Kelp — His Noodly Servants — are His Temples on this Earth. He left me with a final warning, which you must pass on to His Other Believers. We must stop harvesting His Noodly Servants, for they are His Cradle of All Life on our planet. He has revealed to me that when the last Kelp forest is harvested — when the last of His Noodly Servants are extirpated — the End of Days will be upon us. He has charged us with protecting His Noodly Servants.