America's notorious rabble-rouser has launched an all-out attack on religion. Unfortunately, not everyone is in on the joke.

This article is from the October/November issue of Radar Magazine. For a risk-free issue, click here

Much like Jesus, who once laid down his hammer and headed off to preach in the countryside, Bill Maher, unapologetic cynic and sensualist, may at age 52 have finally responded to a higher calling. Instead of wandering for 40 days and 40 nights in the desert, Maher spent the early '90s doing guest shots on Murder, She Wrote and Married with Children, until Politically Incorrect provided him with a national pulpit.

And just as Jesus was once rejected in his hometown of Nazareth, so has Maher faced rejection in Hollywood: He was booted from ABC in 2002 for disputing the Bush administration's contention that the 9/11 terrorists were cowards; then he was booted off Craig Ferguson's Late Late Show couch for saying, in the midst of Michael Jackson's molestation trial, that getting "gently masturbated by a pop star" would be preferable to getting his ass kicked. But now it seems the wisecracking host of HBO's Real Time with Bill Maher seeks something like redemption.

In Religulous, his bitingly funny and often frightening new documentary about the absurdity of doctrinaire religion, Maher travels the globe asking uncomfortably logical questions of true believers. From Florida's Holy Land theme park to Jerusalem's Dome of the Rock, Maher embarks on a mission to debunk the tenets of organized faith—and save humanity from destruction. And he does it all without the aid or comfort of Playboy playmates. Love him or hate him, the schnozzy provocateur lays out a well-crafted argument for the stupidity of faith, which will no doubt get him tarred as a heretic (or worse) the world over.

Maher's television persona—weary, smug, and confrontational—is transformed on the big screen, thanks in no small part to his collaborator, director Larry Charles, the comedy-vérité genius behind Borat and Curb Your Enthusiasm. Expect global protest and condemnation to greet the film's October 3 release. One thing is certain: If, as the L.A. Times has predicted, Religulous wins an Academy Award, God won't be getting any shout-outs from the podium.

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Religulous is in many ways a brave film. But while you spend a lot of time talking about the trouble caused by the Mohammed cartoons in Denmark, you never actually show them. Were you consciously trying to avoid decapitation?
We definitely don't want to get decapitated. That's true. I can't remember whether you even are allowed to show them. I guess you can. I don't think it was germane to where we were going, which was about the reaction to them.

So it wasn't a question of fear? You would have shown them?
Yeah, I would have shown them. But I didn't edit the movie.

So Larry Charles fears decapitation more than you do.
No. Actually, Larry is braver than I am. There was stuff he wanted to do where I said, no way. We were in Jerusalem around Christmas, and Larry wanted to go over the Palestinian side to Bethlehem. The thing is, when you go over to that side, you have to ditch your Israeli bodyguards and you're on your own. I said, "I've been on TV for 15 years, and I've always been an ardent supporter of Israel, but you know what? I won't do it." Arabs love to make political points by snatching Westerners.

Do you find the tenets of religions like Scientology any more absurd than those of Christianity?
The newer religions—Scientology and Mormonism—they had to raise the bar on crazy. Because once you've done the talking snake, and the man who lived in the whale, and God having a son who lived through a suicide mission to Earth because he's really his own father, where do you go from there? The Scientologists and Mormons answered that question with stuff that brings batshit to a new level. Did you know that the Mormons promise that when you die, you'll get your own planet? It's called Celestial Marriage. If you have a good marriage on Earth, you and your wife get to rule over your own planet.

Is there oxygen on the planet?
You are introducing logic, sir. These are entitlement programs that put Social Security to shame.

After seeing your film, I found it surprising to read that you believe in both astrology and reincarnation.

I didn't come out of the egg believing what I believe now. It was a slow evolution. I was still making deals with God when 
I was 40. It's never too late to become a rationalist. I've always said that I don't not believe in anything. Could it be that God had a boy named Jesus? It could be. But the lint that's in my navel now could be God. It could be Furby. Remember Furby? Furby could be God. As far as astrology goes, I use it as a shorthand for character traits, like I'll say, "Oh, that's a real Capricorn thing." The slim reed that would suggest there might be some merit to it is that it's about planetary positions, which could have some basis in scientific fact. Or it could be a bunch of bullshit.

You actually once said you believe in something called "a continuum of souls" that would make it likely that a murderer would come back to Earth as a cockroach.
Oh wow. I must have been high. That sounds very '90s to me. No, that doesn't sound like something I believe now, no.

Let's say reincarnation did exist, and you could choose to come back as any person in any time period. Anybody you wouldn't mind riding around inside of for a lifetime?
That's a great question. It's hard to relinquish the addictions we've gotten used to in our own life, like television and electricity. I'm sure if you were born in the 19th century you wouldn't miss it, but as a creature of comfort, I can't imagine being happy at any other time.

C'mon. Imagine living Ben Franklin's life.
Remember, he wiped his ass with bark.

Your film covers the fatwa issued on Salman Rushdie. Are you scared this film might earn you a fatwa of your own?
I think the threats are just as likely to come from Christians, because there are many crazy Christians out there. When you question anybody's beliefs, you can have trouble. There's a scene in the film where I go to this truckers chapel, and there's a big fat guy sitting there and he says, "When you start questioning my God, you got 
a problem with me," and he holds his fist up. I thought I was going to get pummeled, but thankfully, he walked out. There's a reason that religion is the last taboo. When you question someone's faith, you are questioning something that is out of the bounds of logic, and for millions of people, it's what their whole existence rests upon. But let's face it, it just doesn't hold up to scrutiny.

Are you beefing up your security?
I've had security for quite a while. But it's possible. I talked to Salman Rushdie and Richard Dawkins about this, and they both told me the same thing, which is, "whenever someone's interviewing you, they're going to want to talk about [the threat of physical danger]. Try to persuade them that the more this is talked about, the more likely this is to happen." So the more people who write that I might get killed, the more likely it is I'll get killed. Or you could just say, "I'm a journalist. Fuck him."

Let's say, hypothetically, that God calls you after this movie comes out and says, "You're wrong. Heaven 
and hell do exist. But I liked your movie so much, I want you to consult about who goes where." What happens to George Bush?
If there is a God, and there hadn't been a hell before, I think the life of George Bush would convince him to create one. If anybody deserves to rot in hell, it would be George Bush. And Cheney.

Who gets the hotter cubicle in hell?
Definitely Cheney. You know, Bush is to a degree the frontman. Obviously, nothing could have happened if he wasn't there. But I believe Cheney was the power behind 
the throne. I'm reading [Jane Mayer's] new book about how America got into the torture business, and it's Cheney and his right-hand man David Addington who pushed for this from the get-go. Bush, of course, didn't need all that much convincing; he loved executing people when he was governor of Texas. But Dick Cheney really is evil. If I were rerigging Dante's version of hell, Cheney would earn one of the hottest points toward the center, right behind cops who try to get laid by pulling pretty girls over.

So many smaller scandals have driven public figures from their pedestals. Why does Cheney still have a job?
Because the right wing is full of fucking hypocrites: Bill Bennett with the gambling problems? Bill O'Reilly with the falafel? Rush Limbaugh, who for years was saying 
if you do drugs, you go directly to jail, no ifs, ands, or buts, gets caught doing 30 OxyContin a day? Do you know how fuckin' high 30 OxyContin will get you? 
I'm a guy who's been very high in my life, but I have never been that high. Those are Elvis numbers this guy is putting up. And look at all the gay ones! Not just Larry Craig, Rev. Ted Haggard, or Mark Foley. There are ones that didn't make the big headlines. One, I shouldn't say his name—Bob Allen!—who was John McCain's chairman in Florida, was found to be going to public restrooms and offering men $20 to let him blow them! Now, that's fucking gay. And there was this Gary Aldridge, a prominent Alabama reverend and friend of Jerry Falwell's, who was found dead a year ago in June, hog-tied, wearing two rubber suits, with a dildo stuck up his ass.

So ... a scuba accident?
Well, it's what Republicans call natural causes. I mean, c'mon, we've all worn one rubber suit. But two rubber suits?

You did support McCain in 2000 ... 

I was absolutely a McCain supporter. A lot of us thought much more highly of John McCain in 2000, back when the Straight Talk Express meant something. The fact 
is, Al Gore was not my favorite candidate. If only he had been the Al Gore he is now eight years ago—a great speaker and a great voice. And conversely, John McCain, a pretty good voice in 2000, has become the opposite. Are you seeing a pattern here? Maybe it has something to do with what happens to people when they run for president.

At the time, you actually said George W. Bush is "not any worse than a lot of them, including Gore." How do you feel now?
I blame Al Gore for losing. Gore was running with peace and prosperity at his back. Seventy percent of the American people were against impeachment, and he got scared by the blow job and disowned Bill Clinton. He blew the election. He didn't stand up for what he believed in—he never talked about the environment, his big issue, and at the end of the day, people just couldn't vote for him because they went, "God, what a pandering pussy." Bush may be a retard, but at least he's got a pair of balls.

The Religulous trailer

If Barack Obama loses, does it mean we live in a racist country?
You have to wonder when a generic Democrat beats a generic Republican by 12 points and it's still a dead heat between Obama and McCain. Two months before the Pennsylvania primary, Ed Rendell, the governor, said, "Some people in my state just aren't ready to vote for a black person," and people went batshit. And then when they did the exit polls after Hillary won, a lot of people said, "Yeah, not ready for that yet." I think what's happened in the last 20 years is that racism has gone underground. If you fucked up—like Don Imus—you were pounded out with no questions asked, no chance to retract or recant because you said "nappy head." Now people have something they can do in the dark of the voting booth.

You were 35 when you created Politically Incorrect. In the years before that, while comedy-club peers like Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David were doing very well, you were struggling with parts in movies like Cannibal Women in the Avocado Jungle of Death. Was this hard for you?
Yes. The darkest period for me was in my early 30s, because it's okay in your 20s—you don't really expect to make it yet—and I was doing Johnny Carson every two months. And I went right to the next level as soon as I moved to L.A. in 1983. I had a series. I had a movie, D.C. Cab. So until the early '90s, I felt I was on the right path. I was trying to be more of an actor then, and I was doing movies of the week, Murder, She Wrote. And I just had this moment where I thought to myself, Why am I always the one that gets left by the side of the road? Those were dark times.

Do you recall one moment in time that crystallized that feeling?
I was doing a series on Fox in '91 [Charlie Hoover] with Sam Kinison, and he played a miniaturized devil on the shoulder of Tim Matheson. It was right before Sam died, and he was on heroin the whole time, and I fucking hated him because he held up production and made everybody's life miserable. That was low. Because once again I was playing the office creep—the part that James Spader always used to beat me out for in the '80s. But I had to eat. And it irked me that Kinison had sort of zoomed up out of nowhere as a comic and was the star of the show, and he was so zonked out he couldn't keep his head up in the makeup chair.

Do you think that in pursuing sitcom work, you were being true to yourself?
Yeah, I thought that being an actor was what I should be doing. I actually think I was much less true to myself later, when I was still doing Politically Incorrect after nine years. When I got fired, it didn't take long for me to say, I should have just walked away from this. It was a cute idea, and on a good night it was fun, but the idea of 46 weeks a year doing that show, with four guests a night, trying to talk about the issues of the day, mostly with people who had no idea what the issues of the day were, it was a stretch. I should have had the guts to walk, but who walks away from that kind of real estate?

You were fired a few months after you famously disputed the Bush administration's labeling of the 9/11 hijackers as cowards. In your words, "Lobbing cruise missiles from 2,000 miles away. That's cowardly. Staying in the airplane when it hits the building ... not cowardly." Victor Navasky chided you in The Nation for apologizing afterward, calling it a "profile in cowardice": "You can't have a show called Politically Incorrect and then abjectly apologize for not being PC."
The guy should look at the tapes. I didn't apologize for what I said. I apologized for hurting people's feelings. And you have to remember, this was a week after 9/11. Let's see what he would have done in the same situation if one week after 9/11 the entire country, including the White House, had guns aimed at you. There had to be some middle ground where I said, "Look, I understand the nation is in trauma, and I'm sorry if I added to your trauma."

Settle this once and for all. Is Dane Cook funny?
I don't think I've ever seen him do five minutes of standup, but according to every comic I've ever heard talk about him behind his back, no. Maybe they're just jealous.

What do you think of NBC's decision to bag Jay Leno?
Conan's great, but when you have a guy winning big for you, you don't have to spend three years in Harvard Business School to know, "Yeah, keep that." Jay is one of the nicest, most ethical people, but you really awaken the Italian in Jay at your peril. And that's just what NBC did.

Are you suggesting [NBC chief] Jeff Zucker will be found slumped somewhere wearing a Sicilian necktie?
No! Jay's not violent. He just does not like to lose. And he's not going to just go away. He's going to win.

Esquire recently classified both you and Rudy Giuliani as "pricks." Do you think that word accurately encapsulates your persona?
No, I'm not a prick. No one who knows me calls me that. It amazes me to be asked that question. To give an analogy, with any controversial president, half the people at any given time are not going to like him. But mostly, the people he sees during his day are his fans. It's the same with me. I deal mostly with the millions of people who get me, who would never in a million years think of me as a prick.

So you consider yourself cuddly?
Cuddly, no. But I don't think you last 16 years on TV if people think you're cruel or find you off-putting.

I'm actually surprised that you're taken aback by that question. I figured you would embrace the label. You just made a movie where we laugh with you as 
you go around the country telling people their God doesn't exist.
But I don't see that as being a prick. And I'm nothing like Rudy Giuliani, by the way. An even bigger insult than "prick" is lumping me in with that prick. A prick is someone who is petty and mean and not generous and not good to his friends. Nobody who knows me would ascribe those qualities to me.

You've long said, "Men are only as loyal as their options," and you seem to have lived by the credo. Do you think if you weren't a famous guy with a TV show you would be married by now because your options would have evaporated?
It's a question I've asked myself many times. It's very possible. Because this is something that drives many men to marriage, this feeling of, "Well, I'm not getting laid anywhere else."

So by that logic, are we to assume that men with long, successful marriages like Paul Newman and Tom Hanks must have been stepping out on their wives?
No, because we're all individuals. I've always acknowledged that marriage works for a certain percentage of men, probably 20 percent. I'm just pulling that number out of my ass.

This seems like a good time to ask you something I've always wondered about. Can you actually get laid at the Playboy Mansion, like on the premises, or do you have to take your date elsewhere?
It does sometimes happen on the premises. Not to you, of course. There you go. What a prick, right? But yes, you can. There's the grotto, which is in water, which you can't see under. And there's the game room, which is in a building off the beaten path, and I think people have sex there.

Like on top of a pinball machine?
That's where the pinball machines are. But have I ever done any of this? No. So I really don't know. You'll have to ask Owen Wilson.

This article is from the October/November issue of Radar Magazine. For a risk-free issue, click here