You Can’t Make This Shit Up!

Apparently, God (or god, or gods) are angry.  He (she, it, whatever) is pissed that America passed a weak, half-assed, pathetic excuse for a health insurance reform bill (eh, it’s three steps forward, 2 1/2 steps back).  And to punish America, God/god/gods are punishing . . .

For Larry Wallberg:

This post is explicitly directed at one Larry Wallberg  (all ya’ll can read it, it just really applies to him).  He has, with malice a-forethought, surrendered his Yankee heritage and absconded, carpetbaggeresque, to the South.  In his honour, here are some rules he will need to live down south:

Oh, Joy and Happiness Unforseen: An Alphabet Meme

Chappie has a fun bit of nonsense up on her blog:  The Alphabet Meme.  She got it via email but has transubstantiationated  it (must come from being a chaplain, donchaknow) to a blog post and made it voluntary.  If anyone else wants to play along, go for it.  If not, you should be expecting an email of dead chipmunks within 30 days.  Not that I would threaten anyone, of course.  Just sayin’. 

RULES:
Using the first letter of your last name, answer the questions listed below. You may do this in the comments on this thread, and/or on your blog. If you do it on your blog, leave a comment here. If you do it on your blog and want to tag ten people, go right ahead.  If you want to play along, consider yourself tagged.

Happy Valentine’s Day

Celebrating, of course, the 3rd Century Christian martyr (or martyrs) who, according to:

The Legenda Aurea of Jacobus de Voragine, compiled about 1260 and one of the most-read books of the High Middle Ages, gives sufficient details of the saints for each day of the liturgical year to inspire a homily on each occasion. The very brief vita of St Valentine has him refusing to deny Christ before the “Emperor Claudius” in the year 280. Before his head was cut off, this Valentine restored sight and hearing to the daughter of his jailer. Jacobus makes a play with the etymology of “Valentine”, “as containing valour”.  (From Wikipedia)

or maybe not. 

Panties in a Bunch Over Pink Ouija Boards?

One of the toys that we three kids played with when I was younger was an Ouija board.  Oddly, no matter what question was asked, or by whom, the answer usually matched the thoughts of the oldest of the three.  Not little (((Billy))).  Harmless fun.  Well, for me, annoying.  For my older sisters, fun.

Years later, I discovered that Ouija boards were not viewed as harmless fun.  They were, according to one local preacher (local (at this time) being Western Maryland) decried the boards as a gateway to Satanism.  As marijuana leads inexorably to opium, so Ouija leads directly to Satanic cults, orgies, human sacrifice. atheism, Darwinism, voting Democrat, alcoholism, divorce, and viewing the Bible as allegorical.  Apparently, Christians (the specific subset of literalist Christians (and selected others)) are so insecure that they think a children’s game — a boring children’s game — is a threat to their belief system.

Goddidit Really Is Easier

I should have put this up at the beginning: the graphic is found (it is off the internet from years ago and I wasn’t able to find it again) but the frame and text is my contribution.

Happy Ground Hog Day

Today, I began a new tradition.  I began celebrating ground hog day.  No, not the drag-the-poor-rodent-out-of-his-hole-in-the-middle-of-winter-and-shove-him-into-the-bright-television-lights version of ground hog day.  Not the Bill Murray version either.

I fried up some pork sausage*, took it outside, and saw a shadow from the sausage.  Which means, of course, a longer winter.

I then ate the sausage.  And it was good.

*Well, pork sausage counts as ground hog (with seasonings), right?

The Time I Almost Got Some Poor Sod Killed By His Beautiful Wife

(This has nothing to do with atheism, just remembering a time I almost god some poor sod killed.)

Many, many years ago (last century, in fact), I watched a young couple enter a building in which I work.  Mom, dad, a two-and-a-half year old boy, and twin 6-month-old girls in a stroller.  Cute family. 

They walked over to me, mom pushing the stroller with one hand, hanging on to the toddler with the other, and balancing a large diaper bag over her shoulder.  “Do you have changing tables in the lady’s room?  And where is it?”

A Pointless Poll

Why?  Because I haven’t had a poll on my blog this month.  Or this year, for that matter.

(Inspired by a thread at Pharyngula)

An Overheard Conversation

I both love and hate cell phones.  I hate the damned things because, when I had one, I couldn’t get away from anything.  Boss has a question?  He can call me while shopping.  Or driving.  Or whatever.  I hate the damned things because I find it extremely rude when someone interrupts a conversation with a living, breathing, and present person to talk to someone who isn’t even there.  I love the damned things because some of the conversations (or half-conversations) I overhear are funny as hell.

On Friday, (((Wife))) and I were walking into an overstock store (Marshalls or TJMaxx or some such (don’t laugh — I can get some good spices cheap)) to pick up a disposable pan (all my pots and pans are Calphalon, non with non-stick coating;  I like having one cheap non-stick for certain situations and, when it is no longer non-stick, I just toss it).  As we walked across the parking lot, I overheard one half of a hilarious cell phone conversation: