But she was speaking from the standpoint of a former church pastor—one now apparently persona non grata in God’s very own house.
For myself I hate it when people refer to ‘Atheism’ as if it were a formal system of beliefs just like a religion. It’s too easy to hate something pigeonholed as anti-the-norm; but it’s difficult for mind-controllers to crank up hatred against something that simply doesn’t exist. Hence all the pigeon-holing.
if their notion of it did exist
I’d become a Pastor myself,
and milk it for all I could get!
Should we also hate folks who don’t believe in the—
—too? Why not?
And this is where many folks just don’t get it: accustomed to being herded like mobs of flocking sheep some of the most vital peoples on God’s Earth are arguably also the most compliant—the notion of a genuinely free mind is incomprehensible to them.
NOW GET THEE HENCE
and you might even spot the sentence that triggered my irate outburst …
Not that I’d recommend her all that much. She’s a wee bit inconclusive. But I do love the Darth Vader ‘death touch’ bit where the guy uses it to lay the damsel among the sweet peas (must save him a fortune in flowers and choccies).
NOW, DON’T FORGET:
- Catholicism exists.
- Alcoholism exists.
- Communism exists.
- Every bloody ‘ism’ under the sun exists.
—but ‘Atheism’ doesn’t.
Simply a label—you can’t pick a rabbit up by the ears unless it has ears, no? So if you must, sew some ears on your poor blasted earless bunny and away you go. In all truth, the word ‘atheism’ is (despite dictionaries) simply a convenient un-truth. Is there also a convenient label for folks who don’t believe in Flying Purple People Eaters?
“Mr Argus, Sir?”
“Yes, little Virginia?”
“Sir … are the FPPEs guys coloured purple, who fly and eat people—”
“or do they eat flying purple people?”
Makes me wonder again how many angels can dance on the head of a pin.
For myself it’s a moot question ‘cos I’m a bit of an atheist where FPPEs are concerned …
Then again, I’m always willing to be convinced …
* Simply? Oh well …
** Think of it as meaning ‘vivacious’, you’ll get the picture.
PRAISE THE LORD~!
And if in need of a wee ‘faith-lift’* you can’t go much further than to bring your open mind** to this—
—and that’s one cuddly cop, I tells ya! (Might we think he might be on the baksheesh roll, given the circumstances—or is he religiously doing his job?)
* If American, ouch. If Brit … thank you.***
** Open, dammit. Not vacant … sheesh …
*** The essence of much Brit humour is/was the good ol’ pun. (The more subtle, the better. Make it so subtle nobody gets it but you … wow~! That’s brilliant!) (No?)
(Oops … that sounded a bit like God …)
“Yes, your Godliness, Sir?”
“Argie … … … do please shut up; there’s a good Dog~!”
THE LORD WASHETH
Query: have people no manners, nor skills, nor objectivity?
Query: are we really all so excitable?
I offer this evidence of The Lord moving in mysterious ways, His wondrous marvels so performing—
—now answer ‘Yes~!’ resoundingly to both my questions above.
Perhaps JZ’s (and Ark’s) playmates might help us with those …
“Don’t ask Me, Dog … I’m busy just hangin’ out with the guys …”
(The reference being the superlative spontaneity of the cameraship of the guys filming the Miracle.)
It was about a hundred years ago, anyway …
For the background:
ref my previous posts on female emancipation in NZ,
For my motivation:
ref the closing bit above that begins “… enrol your names …”
AND IF YOU ARE PERCHANCE A VOTER*
male or female:
would you like to buy my lovely Australian bridge?
I can cut you a truly special deal … buy now and I’ll throw in a virtually virgin Opera House, free~!
* Green as grass …
IT WAS BAD ENOUGH
when the various ancient festivals of the midwinter solstice were hijacked by Christ.
AND NOW IT’S EVEN
worse when all pretence at human feeling, love, compassion and all that other temporary garbage is sacrificed on the altar of the great God Bux. Made even more worser by the fact that right now we are going into spring—and by the time the Great Festive Season gets here we will all be sweltering our little furry socks off. Ho ho bloody ho, indeed! Yeuch!
I’ve often quoted the US Civil War general’s words to the effect that battles are won by whoever gets there the firstest with the mostest, then I snapped this yesterday in Invercargill’s biggest department store—
—and this, good citizens, is what it’s really all about. Boom boom! The other stores are not far behind.
I have tried to suggest that ‘Christmas’ here be shifted to mid-winter, which in light of the truth makes much better sense* … no banana for me, though.
I REALLY MISS
the Christmases of my childhood. Money was scarce but the Spirit of Christmas wasn’t. (Okaaaaaayyyy … the Spirit of The Winter Solstice (hijacked by yet another ‘God’ from the land of apparently infinite gods) wasn’t.)
and commercialisation. Why not? And if I may make a prediction—
we’ll be having Matariki holidays complete with Matariki trees next … with the Big Star exhorting us to
BUY! BUY! BUY!
SPEND! SPEND! SPEND!
… so much more New Zealand, really, than dead guys born in a shabby desert motel to some insignificant cuckolded wood-worker half a world and many centuries ago …
Don’t just sit there! Get out and spend!
* Matariki, anyone?
was (I am told) the first country in the world to give women the vote.
In the Invercargill library this afternoon was a display from which I snapped these historical images—make of ’em what we will:
all these factors are (thankfully) ancient history. I am completely apolitical. I never vote. When challenged on this point by rabid dupes my statement is blunt, to the effect — “It achieves nothing beyond encouraging them!” (The politicians …)
Democracy has been summarised as—
Government of the People,
By the People,
For the people.
Democracy was around long before Abe Lincoln but he gets the credit …
Whereas what we have everywhere in different degrees is blatantly and unabashedly—
Government of the People,
By the Party,
FOR THE PARTY
—and no matter who gets in I can (and do) always say “Well, YOU voted for them—I didn’t!”
I ASKED A
matronly woman in Invercargill waxing eloquent about the town Mayor, and who said with starry eyes that she’d voted for him: “Why?”
To which she replied matter-of-factly that—
“Whenever there’s a school gala day, he dances with the children!”
—as good a reason as any other.
Hands Across the Ages.
The ages first—
—sprayed stencils found almost identically in places as far removed in geography as Spain, France, Indonesia …
… and as far apart in time as possibly forty thousand years (ish) from this version herewith below:
—found in a side alley in New Zealand’s tiny town of Gore (Southland, South Island).
“…[there is] no new [thing] under the sun …”
Hell … I coulda told ’em that~!
And now, with thanks to JZ—
—for an image I shall use freely when apt.