In this task, you are given a text of many news articles seperated by special token "|||||". Your task is to summarize them.

Doug Stanhope on raising money for atheist tornado survivor: I did it simply to be a prick 
  
 By Eric W. Dolan 
  
 Monday, December 30, 2013 11:52 EDT 
  
 Comedian Doug Stanhope helped raise more than $100,000 for an Oklahoma family whose home had been destroyed by a tornado. 
  
 But he didn’t do it out of the goodness of his heart or because he was sympathetic. He just takes pleasure in mocking the faithful. 
  
 “I didn’t do it because I felt sympathy because she got all her sh*t destroyed by a tornado. I did it simply to be a prick to her Okie Christian neighbors,” Stanhope said in a video uploaded to YouTube on Monday. “It’s funny how hate can make you do real nice things every now and then.” 
  
 After a tornado ripped through the town of Moore, Oklahoma in May, CNN host Wolf Blitzer asked resident Rebecca Vitsmun if she thanked the Lord for surviving. She replied that she was an atheist. 
  
 “If you didn’t think that took balls you’ve never been to Oklahoma,” Stanhope remarked. “Saying ‘I’m an atheist’ in Oklahoma is like screaming ‘Jihad’ at airport security. It took some nuts.” 
  
 “If you watch the footage, all the other victims are on the news thanking Jesus for only killing their neighbors and not them, while a crawler is on the screen telling me where I can text money to help them out,” Stanhope said. 
  
 “F*ck them. I don’t want Jesus getting credit for my $50. I’ll help that other girl out. She ain’t got no Jeebus, she gonna need money.” 
  
 Vitsmun’s home was destroyed in the storm, and Stanhope started a fundraising drive on the website Indiegogo. The campaign, titled “Atheists Unite,” ended up raising $125,760. 
  
 Stanhope, who is known for his abrasive and politically incorrect comedy, said in October it felt great to help a family in need — even if his motivations weren’t altruistic. 
  
 “I can’t remember being happier in a shitload of years, repeatedly hitting refresh in those first days and seeing the numbers go up every minute,” he wrote at Vice.com. “Charity feels good, even when you’re doing it as a big ‘Fuck You’ to Christians who you’ve pre-judged, and not because you care about someone losing their shit. Realizing you’ve actually changed an individual’s life. It was pretty goddamned thrilling.” 
  
 Watch video, uploaded to YouTube by Doug Stanhope, below. ||||| This May, I was in my usual spot on the couch in Bisbee, Arizona, drinking plastic jug vodka and watching CNN jam microphones into the faces of distraught victims of the Oklahoma tornadoes. They all thanked the Jesus for sparing them, for taking their homes and belongings instead of their lives, and for killing their neighbors instead of them. 
  
 There was a video that had just gone viral of Wolf Blitzer repeatedly asking a meek and polite young lady if she thanked the Lord for her good fortune in not being killed. She stammered and then said, cute as a button, "Actually, I'm an atheist." As always, Wolf looked like a big smacked dick. 
  
 As I was watching, a crawler at the bottom of screen told me how to send money to the Red Cross via text message. I thought how funny it would be to have a fundraiser for just that one chick—fuck all her Okie-Christian neighbors. They're with God. We're atheists. We don't have Christ. We gotta take care of each other. 
  
 CNN is very fickle in how long they give a fuck about any given tragedy, so I jumped on the computer, figured out how to use a fundraising site—not an easy task for a guy who still uses Hotmail—and by morning had "Atheists Unite" on IndieGogo.com. A few tweets and Facebook posts later from myself and thousands of other ordinary, caring people—plus some big shots like the Richard Dawkins Foundation, Penn Jillette, and Ricky Gervais—and the virtual cash register started chiming away. 
  
 $50,000 dollars in the first day, almost $126,000 by the time it was done. Enough for her to move the fuck out of Jesus country—where she says she'll never return—like Tom Joad with a trust fund. 
  
 I can't remember being happier in a shitload of years, repeatedly hitting refresh in those first days and seeing the numbers go up every minute. Charity feels good, even when you're doing it as a big “Fuck You” to Christians who you've pre-judged, and not because you care about someone losing their shit. Realizing you've actually changed an individual's life. It was pretty goddamned thrilling. 
  
 You don't get the same feeling when you buy the pink label mustard at Safeway in October. That just makes you think your lottery ticket has better karma. You won't open the paper the next morning expecting headlines that breast cancer has been defeated because you ate a ham sandwich. 
  
 I've noticed that the more you’re made aware of a disease, the more you realize that a lot of people are making a bank heist of money from you supporting their foundation. Having a cause is chump work. Having a foundation is where you make the salad. 
  
 Nobody is a bigger wishing-well penny-catcher than the Breast Cancer Awareness carnies and the road agents that bear the hideous ribbon. Their motives are questionable, what they promote is dangerous. They don't so much want to prevent cancer as make sure you look for it, find any early stage of it, and treat it. Prevention would be bad for business. 
  
 I’m often asked to perform at charity functions and I almost always decline, because the type of people who attend charity functions are the exact opposite of my target audience. "Thanks for coming out to help little Billy's lymphoma laugh-athon. But did you ever think life isn't really worth living anyway?" The big novelty thermometer on the stage showing the amount raised would start dropping with every word I said. 
  
 Another paranoia I get is that I often find that the most charitable people are unknown artists who want you to come to a show that you don’t want to see, or buy a download of a song you don’t want to hear to "help the victims" of such and such. It's one thing to be Sting using your fame to bring attention to a cause. It's quite another to use a famous tragedy to get your attention. And I am no Sting on the fame level. 
  
 There's a worldwide group called the Women in Black who are against bad things in general, war and bombing and the like. I remember seeing them every Wednesday in Trafalgar square when I was doing a lengthy run in London, five or six of them standing in the rain and cold around a statue, silent and maudlin (and in black, of course) with handmade signs doing their preaching. I envied them. To have a cause that you are so committed to yet still be content in doing so little about. 
  
 "This is bad. It has to stop. Let's stand around once a week and do absolutely nothing. PS: No men allowed." And then go home with all the self-satisfaction of someone who bought a pink Dallas Cowboys jersey off the NFL website and felt like a war hero. 
  
 Remember that in a free-market society, there is already a financial incentive for someone to find a cure for cancer on their own. Pfizer didn't come up with boner pills because of candlelight vigils and flaccid-cock symbols on juice boxes—they knew there was money in it. If you want to throw money at a disease, try donating to a disease almost nobody has and therefore nobody is trying to cure like Tree Man and Cock Face or the guy with the 130-pound balls. Almost nobody has these diseases and it'll be a long time before the NFL has players wearing bark jockstraps to raise awareness. 
  
 Me, I prefer to spend my charitable donations close to home, where you see the results, or on individuals where you can see the smile on their faces. Most people are assholes so maybe cancer's only sin is the collateral damage. 
  
 Doug is on a comedy tour, and you can get the dates at his website. Also, follow him on Twitter: @dougstanhope 
  
 More on the virtues of charity: 
  
 Bob Odenkirk's Page: Most Neediest Forgotten Charities 
  
 Mother Teresa Was a Jerk, and So Were a Bunch of Other Saints ||||| By Jessica Ravitz, CNN 
  
 Follow @JRavitzCNN 
  
 (CNN) - Just days after she announced to the world from tornado-ravaged Moore, Oklahoma, that she is an atheist, it looks like Rebecca Vitsmun has found salvation. 
  
 Not from the Lord, mind you, but from other atheists and friends of atheists. 
  
 An Indiegogo campaign titled “Atheists Unite,” launched late Thursday by stand-up comic Doug Stanhope, is raking in dollars to help her family rebuild. Less than 17 hours after going live, it met its 60-day goal of $50,000. A little more than an hour later, as we prepared to publish, donations were at $55,000 - and growing. 
  
 “Holy @#!%!” Stanhope said, by way of hello when he answered his phone Friday morning. 
  
 Vitsmun, whose home was destroyed in Monday’s deadly tornado, unwittingly became a sensation Tuesday after participating in a live TV interview with CNN’s Wolf Blitzer. When Blitzer asked if she thanked the Lord for the decision she made that saved her and her 19-month-old son, she stammered before saying, “I’m actually an atheist.” 
  
 She and Blitzer laughed and moved on. But that TV moment took on a life of its own, spreading online and through social media. 
  
 It also inspired this outpouring of atheist love. 
  
 “It's important that our community shows that we have your back when you come out publicly as an atheist,” Stanhope wrote on the Indiegogo page. “Let's show the world that you dont need to believe in a god to have human compassion nor does all charity fall under the banner of religion. Let's get this courageous woman and her family back in their own home.” 
  
 While a serious matter, the campaign offers “Perks” for giving – including a “Get Out of Hell Free Card” for a $50 donation, a “First Class Upgrade” on “the flight to the afterlife” for $500 and, just because, “Full Access to God’s Planbook” for $5,000. 
  
 Stanhope said he often weaves his beliefs, or lack of belief, into his stand-up routines. While Christian missionaries run around Third World countries – feeding the poor, Bibles in hand – he bemoans how atheists do nothing. 
  
 “We sit around in a dark bar and mock them,” he said. Meantime, “that book [the Bible] is a lot more appealing when there’s a bowl of rice under your nose.” 
  
 He saw this as an opportunity to do something, and his 2,021 contributors – and counting – clearly did, too. This wasn’t the only group to get into the atheist-supporting game. 
  
 On the website for FreeOK, Oklahoma's freethought convention which is scheduled for June 22, T-shirts are being sold to benefit Vitsmun and her family. The shirts are emblazoned with her quote, "I'm actually an atheist." 
  
 And as Stanhope's Indiegogo campaign reached its goal Friday afternoon, a press release came in from the American Humanist Association – announcing that it just forwarded to Vitsmun a whopping donation of $10,000. 
  
 “Rebecca Vitsmun’s courage to speak forthrightly about her atheism inspired humanists and others who are good without a god across the country to help her through this difficult time,” said the association’s executive director Roy Speckhardt, in the written statement. “Natural disasters are a product of our environment, not supernatural forces, and we have a responsibility to help those affected by them.” 
  
 While we are in contact with Vitsmun through sporadic e-mails, we were unable to get a reaction from her before publishing. 
  
 But the American Humanist Association shared a statement from her in its press release. 
  
 “People from all around the world have reached out to us and the people of Moore and Newcastle and we don’t know how we can ever thank everyone enough for their generosity,” she said. “It is really hard to even know where to begin, but having so many here to embrace us while we figure it out makes the path ahead less intimidating. Thank you all so much.” |||||
Abrasive stand-up comedian Doug Stanhope is helping out a few people in need—if not in the most charitable spirit. The funny man known for drinking and smoking on-stage has raised more than $100,000 for an Oklahoma family whose house was leveled by a tornado earlier this year, Raw Story reports. Why that family? Because one of its members, Rebecca Vitsmun, told Wolf Blitzer in a live CNN interview that she was an atheist. "Saying 'I’m an atheist' in Oklahoma is like screaming 'Jihad' at airport security," Stanhope said. "It took some nuts." So Stanhope started an Indiegogo campaign called "Atheists Unite," which raised an impressive $125,760 with support from thousands of people, including illusionist Penn Jillette and actor Ricky Gervais. But Stanhope admits that he didn't really do it for Vitsmun and her family. "I didn’t do it because I felt sympathy," he writes at Vice.com. "I did it simply to be a prick to her Okie Christian neighbors."