Heavon Calling!

When you hear rationalists, atheists, anti-theists and other lovable heathens like myself griping about religion, many of our complaints have to do with money. Vaticans are valorized, mullahs need their moolah and Buddhists butter their sculptures on the backside of the public. Powermongering takes money-laundering, and churches' harm could be greatly curbed if they were scrutinized and taxed by governments like the for-profit institutions they are.

Without combing through their ledgers for every last measly milliard they receive, let's address the constant claim that, due to their missionary, charity and other supposed beneficence, religious groups are non-profit organizations.
No.
Recruitment is not charity. Neither is advertisement. Movie companies not uncommonly drop one hundred or two hundred million dollars on advertising just one of their "intellectual" properties. They're not doing it because they're good Samaritans, bad Samaritans or morally conflicted Samaritans, but because they expect huge pay-offs. Neither do priests build youth centers because they want to help youth, but because they want to exploit youth. They are buying an opportunity to indoctrinate, to inject their venomous primitivism into susceptible minds. Then, they bleed you indefinitely. Whether because you're ignorant, desperate, down on your luck, down in the dumps or just have Down's syndrome, you're not their friend or equal. You're their prey, or at best a host organism. All the money they sink into brainwashing you now they expect to get back tenfold through decades' worth of donations of money, property or more likely, free labor.

And, best of all, you've just agreed to form the lowest base in their paradisaical pyramid scheme. Wives drag their husbands to church, bosses rope their underlings into church picnics, mothers beat bibles into their children's heads. Every pissant proselyte promises a continual string of returns through the decades, struggling to justify slavishness by recruiting others to occupy the lowest rung. Stumbling savages with crisp neckties and starched shirts grunting stone-age oaths to ward off the dark. Zombies biting zombies, until the seas boil off and the tectonic plates melt, and the trumpets remain silent.