The classic leap from pattern to purpose. You see a word spelled in rocks and assume a mind behind it. Then you see the complexity of the universe and assume a god. But that’s not reasoning; it’s projection. You're not proving a creator... you’re demanding one because you’re uncomfortable with chaos.
You confuse improbability with impossibility. Just because something seems unlikely doesn’t mean it must have been intended. The universe isn’t a sentence waiting to be read... it’s not trying to say anything. That need to assign meaning to randomness is your own, not the universe’s.
And what’s behind this argument? A refusal to live with uncertainty. You’d rather invent a cosmic author than accept that existence might simply be... without script, without narrator, without purpose.