Heaving Dead Cats aims to dispel ignorance and enlighten the mind through skeptical freethought atheist musings. Just who the heck are these people?!
Founder:
Neece: An eclectic enigma, a paragon of practical pragmatism. I blog about whatever I find important, interesting or funny. I’m an atheist with a heart of gold, and a free thinker. I’m married to a wonderful guy (since Halloween of ‘96 
) and have zero kids (by choice) and 2 wonderful dogs that drive me absolutely crazy. Feel free to contact me here at heavingdeadcats@gmail.com. I’m also at Atheist Nexus (but I don’t go over there much). I’m also on StumbleUpon as zeneece.
My husband, Butch, and I design fun and rude t-shirts and other goodies for atheists, agnostics, and just about anyone who has a sense of humor. You can find them at my Zazzle store here. Curious how I lost my faith and became a happy atheist? Here’s my story.
Contributors:
Johnny: I was raised 7th-Day-Adventist early on, (mild) Evangelical Christian later on. A little college, some time in the Military, and real life opened my eyes a lot. Further curiosity, a little more education, tons of reading, and digging led to my deconversion.
I’ve worked in the IT field for ten years, and currently work in IT Security as a technical trainer. I served six years in the US Army (four years National Guard, two years active duty); and consider myself extremely fortunate to have never seen combat. I have been happily married for 6 years (and count myself lucky she is like-minded when it comes to religion).
My wife and I are avid hikers and occasional runners. During the summer we spend all our free time at the lake with family (if we’re not hiking). And we are suckers for remodeling projects (either our own, or helping friends and family). You can read my deconversion story here.
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Groovecat: Born and raised Roman Catholic. Had issues with it early on. Asked one too many times “but who made god?” in catechism and spent a lot of time with my nose pushed against a spot on the black-board that the good sisters used as punishment for asking too many questions. Favorite childhood story is “the Emperor has no clothes”.
Jack of all trades by vocation, musician by avocation. Chaser of women, catcher of few. Hedonistically free. Could lose a few pounds, but hey, who couldn’t, huh? Enjoys his martinis, John Steinbeck novels and the salmon-goat cheese pizza at Tapestry in Los Gatos ( available only in the summer from the out-door wood-fired pizza oven, by request). Favorite movie? Aliens with Sigourney Weaver. A classic story of man vs. nature, along with a kick to the status quo of the time by making the hero a woman.
Hired gun and musical mercenary. Spends his free time sleeping, eating, breathing and watching t.v.
Deconversion story to follow.
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We’re always looking for folks just like yourself to contribute to HDC! If you’re a writer, blogger, ranter, (whatever the case may be) and you’d like to send us something to post on the site, or become a regular writer please let us know!
Occasional contributions: Can be in the form of rants, anecdotes, short stories, essays…whatever suits your style. Submissions should be forwarded to: HeavingDeadCats@gmail.com, please put “Submission request”, or something to get our attention, in the header. Images are also welcome.
Regular contributors: If you’d like to submit here on a regular basis please let us know as well! Regular contributors have the ability to post at their leisure without submitting via email.
Where We Got Our Name, Heaving Dead Cats:
H L Mencken, in The American Mercury, January, 1924
Of a piece with the absurd pedagogical demand for so-called constructive criticism is the doctrine that an iconoclast is a hollow and evil fellow unless he can prove his case. Why, indeed, should he prove it? Is he judge, jury, prosecuting officer, hangman? He proves enough, indeed, when he proves by his blasphemy that this or that idol is defectively convincing—that at least one visitor to the shrine is left full of doubts. The fact is enormously significant; it indicates that instinct has somehow risen superior to the shallowness of logic, the refuge of fools. The pedant and the priest have always been the most expert of logicians—and the most diligent disseminators of nonsense and worse. The liberation of the human mind has never been furthered by such learned dunderheads; it has been furthered by gay fellows who heaved dead cats into sanctuaries and then went roistering down the highways of the world, proving to all men that doubt, after all, was safe—that the god in the sanctuary was finite in his power, and hence a fraud. One horse-laugh is worth ten thousand syllogisms. It is not only more effective; it is also vastly more intelligent.
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