Me: There is a pink dragon in my carport.
You: I don’t see a pink dragon.
Me: It’s invisible.
You: How do you know it’s pink?
Me: Because it can show itself when it wants to.
You: But I walked through your carport, I didn’t bump into anything.
Me: It’s quite manoeuvrable.
You: But I’ve seen your car parked in your carport. How could the car and the pink dragon fit in there together?
Me: Because it’s still a young pink dragon – it’s not that big.
You: But still, dragons are meant to be much bigger than elephants, even as a young dragon it must be large.
Me: Yes, well, it can also push itself slightly out of phase from normal matter.
You: But that would mean it phases out from the ground too and it would just fall through the earth.
Me: Pfft! It can levitate.
You: Can I see the pink dragon?
Me: Only if you believe it exists.
You: OK, I believe it exists, but I still can’t see it.
Me: Then you don’t really believe it exists. Only a true believer in the pink dragon can see the pink dragon.
You: Why can’t I feel its breath? Dragons breathe fire, right?
Me: It’s a spiritual fire. Believers in the dragon feel its breath inside them.
You: What does it feel like?
Me: Like the warming glow of a pink dragon’s breath inside me, of course!
You: Wouldn’t that be too hot?
Me: No. Why would it burn its true believers?
You: Can you at least take a photo of the pink dragon for me?
Me: Of course, here it is:
You: I just see an empty carport.
Me: Really? I see the pink dragon in the carport. You mustn’t yet completely believe in the pink dragon.
You: In order to believe in the pink dragon I need to see evidence of its existence.
Me: In order to see the pink dragon you must believe in the pink dragon without questioning.
The “pink dragon” argument (a variant of Russell’s Teapot) is, to me, the perfect example of why I’m completely comfortable with my atheism – and how arguments for religion invariably sound.