U-toobe this morning—
—and offered in my genuine Spirit of contrition and humility as a prime example of what you, too, might achieve if you had the right surroundings, the right upbringing, and etc etc.
Failing the conditions I imagine that if you’ve read it through this far you may be thinking along the lines of “How the hell did I miss the boat?”
And who can blame you?
There are absolute fortunes out there to be made from
shee nice people like this. You want your own fleet of private jets, all the palaces you can eat, and endless devotees to attend your every whim? Now stop trying to be productive—just shove up a shingle, hire an old barn in the right location and start preaching. Do it right and you’re quids in (Amway, eat your heart out!)
SHEESH—just do it right and they will flock to your door—all you need is your own USP (Unique Selling Point); no need even to reinvent the
whee cross … but beware, the Establishment defends its turf with a ferocity unbridled and total lack of conscience (too much invested and too much at stake).
BE CAREFUL OUT THERE~!
Now forgive me, I’m off to pray for your soul and God grant that I haven’t given you a bum steer …
“Hey! Who filched the last loaf and fish? Damn!”
—OH, GOOD GRIEFFIE!
Apologies for the rush; and here’s your snippet:
Make of it wot we will.
I once read a case for the Wedding at Cana being His Holy Nibs’s very own personal wedding, to one Mary Magdalene. The same author/s made a further case for the Holy Grail being not a cup but the blood (line) of Christ … aka corrupted from ‘le sang real’ (the Royal Blood) (get it?); and the vessel carrying that sacred blood (line) was actually one Mrs J. Christ in the person of Mary Magdalene; transported to the south of France by a Mr Joseph of Arithmathea, who happened to be a tin merchant trader who dealt with (you’ll love this—) tin traders in Cornwall. And who was also JC’s uncle …
You can have a lot of fun if you dabble …
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England’s mountains green:
And was the holy Lamb of God,
On England’s pleasant pastures seen!
And did the Countenance Divine,
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
I will not cease from Mental Fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand:
Till we have built Jerusalem,
In England’s green & pleasant Land.
A bit gory in places but sometimes a pleasant enough mythology that serves well to keep the unthinking underfoot and paying taxes.
Regardless of labels, this is a piccie that benefits from lots of looking at and total disregardance of any ‘official’ explanations. Look at that redhead to Jeez’s right—could a case be made for that being Mrs J? (To me it looks more she than he.)
Is there any significance in His Royal Godship and some other guy both reaching for the same buns? And off screen to our left it looks awfully as if someone has a dagger pointed at someone …
Rubbish! Anyway, there’s not one God, there’s many hundreds, thousands …
Q: what is it about filth that so excites the godly?
A: to each their own (Now go look up ‘fetish’ … I’ll wait …)
To many millions of good citizens these guys (herewith, below) are the very epitome of godly achievement and divinious example:
… and now, more wow
These holy men are demonstrating the old adage about filling a need with a product, in this case
God (oops) —
—although a water blaster might be more appropriate.
To each his own. I may never get to Heaven myself but at least whilst I’m down here I shan’t have folks begging my exit forthwith (“Get the hell outa here ya stinkin’ mutt!”).
SO HOW DID THE ANCIENT
Romans cope? They had less earthy gods—
—who sometimes were shape-shifters with earthy appetites—
—as in this Pompeian representation (recently dug out of volcanic ash)(barfed by Vesuvius centuries ago) being one Miss Leda and her god.
For myself I say get rid of those human cesspits above … I’ll worship Miss Leda any day—as a path to ecstasy I think she has the market cornered.
THE CATHOLIC CHURCH
also has a history of unwashed hair shirts (apparently the more verminous the closer the wearer to God). To each his own … but again, given options between hair shirt, cattle dung shampoo, or Miss Leda:
(what do YOU reckon, Padre?)*.
* Apologies, Padre, no choirboys on that list …
I have yet come across, reposted here with little comment and no attempted embellishment:
* Until that legendary cold day in Hell, if I have to. Give up? (Wimp~!)
- I read the advertisement and promptly buy the product
- I see the trailer, and promptly go watch the movie
- I scan the review and buy the work
- I hear the sermon and promptly—
Let’s take stock …
I challenge you* to scan this snippet—
—and not feel a tempting twinge to go there, read that … as a help in understanding the ‘religious impulse’ that seems to strike human beings everywhere and everywhen.
That’s the source: I found it when following threads triggered by one of Ark’s posts.
(If still lost, consider that I have religions much in mind. Any religion (brand immaterial, they are fungible in that all are out for just one thing: wealth & power).
I said above that I’m easy. Am too … the problem is that I cannot stand seeing the innocent sucked in and ripped off by the unprincipled selling (making compulsory!) a non-existent product. Hence I am anti-religion.
* Yes, YOU, Bub!
WHY THE HELL I STARTED
the Google search for using in this post
here’s your snippet anyway—
Snipped from: CLICK HERE
—but while we’re here, I just visited another’s blog and unashamedly filched this u-toobe therefrom. Go get ’em, Tiger!
With grateful gratitude to Prof Tab and the Ark. And anyone else I can blame for spreading the unholy Word—
—religion is a gamble, no? You pick your very own special one out of many thousands (possibly even millions, over time and space) available and you nail yourself to that one cross and run with it.
is that ever a gamble~!
Spaced out, man …
whilst watching my usual rubbish about history, man-in-space, aliens, antiquity, Gods, the price of chips these days and other vital stuff I came across an interesting snippet—
—wherein the wee fellow mentions a cute little crittur that seems too good to be true. I think he called it a ‘teddybear’ or something similar … wotever. (His conjectures still make you think, no?)
or not …