Category Archives: Religion

Talk about religion, spirituality, belief systems and arguments for and against. Warning – may offend some.

The Public Shame Glory Train is boarding. Run, Freedom Faucet.

This. Here you are, turning on the Freedom Faucet and letting it run.  Please enjoy my thinly-veiled contempt for your kind.

Preamble: You people, you people make me sick.  Make me ashamed, make me sad and embarrassed to be an American.  Make me afraid to be a Black American.  I am so sorry we share a common national heritage and the same Constitution and that the Declaration of Independence is the same for the both of us.  You are a noxious cancer, a pox on all that is good about this country.
How dare you twist the facts to your own purposes?  How could you stand and with a straight face claim citizenship of this nation that was built on the backs of everyone but yourselves and expect to have what you want when you are coasting, as are we all, on the downward slide of our country into unreason and irrationality?  I don’t even have enough spit for all of your faces.

So, we have this video.  This black man walking through a crowd.  Somehow he becomes the target of chants and accusations and, don’t try to deny it, hatred by the protesters.  How did this happen?

I remember learning in school that this nation was founded (and yes, stolen) by people who wanted to worship as they pleased.  I used to think that this meant in America, your choices were respected.  I feel a little like a fool.  Who have I sat next to on a bus or spoken to politely in line at the store that has taken one look at my hair wrapped up and my unadorned face and thought to themselves “That brown girl’s prolly a Muslim”?  Have I walked through a door that was held by a Tea Bagger?  Did I ever smile at a baby whose parents were teaching it behind closed doors to hate in public?

What are our freedoms even worth if we’re too ignorant to exercise them properly?  I mean didn’t we all learn how to read a map in school?

What's that?  The King is an agent of T.E.R.R.O.R.?

Here’s a map from TopherChris, you stupid motherfuckers.  Read this Village Voice post too, so you can see what’s already near Ground Zero that’s somehow not more threatening than a community center aimed at fostering multicultural understanding and defusing the kind of horribly (un?)American antics depicted in this video.  I realize that this terror mosque will be right in the middle of Ground Zero, so I suppose I understand how it must feel to be standing at the site of the World Trade Center and not even be able to see the people you hate so much.  For those of you who are just looking at this for the pictures because you can barely read, “A” as in “All I want is for you to learn something today” is the proposed site of the place you’re terrified of and “B” as in “But I bet you’re still an idiot” is the site where you’re trivializing the deaths of thousands of people with the crosses you’re burning on the inside.
View Larger Map

Amagad look, over there there’s a woman dancing with no clothes on while men get hardons staring at her!  GASP!  And over there is a betting parlor!  And oh crap a bunch of kitschy junk!

In the interest of being fair, I thought I would try to balance myself out a bit here lest I be seen as some sort of liberal-thinking intellectualist who cares only about allowing terrorism and terrorists to grow and bloom in this, the “greatest nation on Earth”.  Remember this guy?

The noble Aryan profile of a harmless white guy.

Wh-what’s that say?  The face of…terror?  Really?  Perhaps you were not aware of this but Timothy McVeigh, while not a mainstream Christian, was a member of the Christian Identity movement.  I won’t go into a long definition here but let’s see what we can find out about them.  From one of their own pages:

Kingdom Identity Ministries is a Politically Incorrect Christian Identity outreach ministry to God’s chosen race (true Israel, the White, European peoples). We proclaim the Gospel of the Kingdom (government according to God’s Law) through books, tracts, tapes, videos, the American Institute of Theology Bible Correspondence Course, our international Herald of Truth Radio Broadcasts, a Prison Ministry, Biblical Counseling, Seminars, and other means. The Elect Remnant, Christian Patriots, Nationalists, Reconstructionists, Racialists, and all seeking a higher level of understanding will learn Biblical solutions to personal and national problems, and be given keys to unlock hidden truth.

I won’t link to their page but you can Google it if you want don’t already have it saved in your favorites.  Perhaps you might be saying “Well gawrsh, alphabete, those guys are extremists!” O rly?  Might they be?  Just like, I don’t know, the extremists who killed a grip of people on the eleventh of September in the Year of your Lord, Two Thousand-One?  I’m not done yet though, for ye who kneel and prostrate yourselves at the altar of hatred and stupidity.

You may recall Mr. McVeigh caused some property damage.  He blew up a building, specifically the Alfred P. Murrah on 19 April, 1995.  It remains the worst act of domestic terrorism that the United States of America has ever seen.  This is a man, a white man, in this country, a citizen who conspired with another white American citizen to cause damage to property and lives.  A guy who believed in God and, ostensibly, Caucasian Jesus.  But wait, there’s more.

Holy Crap look at all those Jesus sprinkles!

Look at all these Christian churches near the Murrah Building! Where are your protests?  Where’s the claim that by putting churches near the Murrah building is a slap in the face to the victims of McVeigh’s terror?  Where?  Oh, right, just look at these fucking comments.

Let’s see what those shifty Muslims are up to with this so-called “Community Center at Park51”.  According to their Mission Statement the founders of this project hope to

“Uphold respect for the diversity of expression and ideas between all people”

“Cultivate and embrace neighborly relations between all New Yorkers, fostering a spirit of civic participation and an awareness of common needs and opportunities”

“Establish a state-of-the-art green facility that will serve as a model and inspiration for sustainable space, helping to advance sustainable living in urban contexts”

…and a few other things.  A couple of them have to do with Muslims but if you want to tell me with a straight face that you’re not being willfully ignorant you can read them yourself and look for the “halla halla halla”.  So let’s see.  They want to uphold respect for diversity?  Those bastards!  Cultivate and embrace neighborly relations?  Foster the spirit of civic participation and an awareness of our commonalities?  What the fuck?  And don’t even get me started on that whole green facility/sustainable space/sustainable living thing.  For crying out loud it sounds like they’re trying to turn New York and indeed, all of America into some kind of place where the people you shit on prove that they’re not as bad as you think and that, in fact, they may be better than you.

I checked out some other pages.  Know what “their kind” will have in their fancy-pants new center of extremist terror-breeding?  Recreational facilities.  A swimming pool.  A reading library (oh Holy Father preserve us!), art studios (grab your Bibles lest ye be tempted to appreciate something), a restaurant and culinary school where no doubt all the food will be seasoned with a nice heaping tablespoon of jihad, and let us not forget the mother-fucking swimming pool.  Does that explain it?  Are you people afraid of getting in shape or are you scared that in your swimsuits we will see you exposed for the yellow-bellies you really are?  So hard to tell.

There will be a mosque, sure, oh, and also a memorial room for contemplation.  I see now, though, that contemplation in a 9/11 memorial room, or a basketball court, or an exhibition hall are so, so much worse than a gentlemen’s club which you would go into if it weren’t for your shame-laden penises shrinking at the thought that wimmins aren’t property and naked dancing doesn’t make them gutter trash.  And the fact that you’re not gentlemen.  I’d address the lady Tea Baggers here but I will assume their mouths are too full of their husbands’ balls to get back to me.

You are the festering, gangrenous wound in the side of this country.  You are the ones who are ignorant and irresponsible and hypocritical.  When will the physical attacks begin?  When will you mobilize to bring down De Gubmint in which it is encoded that “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.”?  When will you stand up like men and women and say “You see these freedoms?  They’re ours, not yours!”?  Come on now, when will you break down your barriers of respectability and appearance as normal American citizens and do as your hero McVeigh did, and use force to get what you want while you whine that people are trampling on your precious, pure-blooded Aryan America?  Or are you afraid to just put on your balaclavas and come out of the closet as the terrorists that you are?

You deserve your tickets on the Public Shame Glory Train and you make Mr. Conductor want to drive this shit off a cliff.

I’m Wrong, and You Can Be Too!

Everyone is wrong. Wrong is the default state of the universe. It’s the default of any idea, it’s the starting place of every rationalization, and it’s every step along the journey towards either greater or lesser wrong.

I know, it seems an exaggeration. It’s not.

Do you remember physics and chemistry? My textbooks had a few pages about the various models for atomic structure that have been proposed throughout the ages. In order from quite wrong to less wrong. And the implication is that our current understanding is wrong too, and we haven’t figured out how yet.

Every science, every art, every discipline… perfection is not attained. We strive not to be perfect, but to be less wrong than we start. It’s a process, and every one of us demands improvement from ourselves in some aspects of our lives. Lest we succumb to depression.

You don’t think it applies to you? How about sex? You like sex? Gets better with practice, doesn’t it? Anyone who hasn’t repressed (or not experienced) their first sexual experience knows for damned certain that virgins are not good lovers.

Or maybe you’re a bit of a puritan? Finding sex offensive, you spend your evenings in Bible study… trying to improve or maintain your spiritual purity… or just to deepen and improve your understanding. Because you are imperfect, and therefore wrong in some way.

It’s easy to spot wrongness in others, isn’t it? Laws passed that clearly didn’t have the best of brains behind them, or have wording so poor that every armchair lawyer is thinking how bad the loopholes are. That grumpy sourpuss in line ahead of you that’s getting fed up with everything not being 100% perfect in their life and letting the whole world know… that they’re wrong in their expectations.

But the only way that we improve as human beings is to say that there’s something wrong about ourselves… and then fix it.

I am fed up with my life. It’s not living up to my expectations. The problem is, what I want is a way to get from here to… self-supporting, and having a family. I don’t have that. I lack the education, the job market sucks, and I have a shitty work ethic when it comes to begging for a job I really don’t want. I don’t even have half a clue what I want to do with my life from here.

I’m wrong!

Nothing in my life suggests I’m actually going to be any good with starting my own family. That’s an expectation that I had for life when I was 6. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. I barely stay in touch with the loving family I have now. We’re generally aloof people and even wanting a family, I’d have to learn how to be a real part of one.

I’m wrong about hating just about every sort of retail job… that’s bullcrap. I liked work that involved a lot of moving around. Was great for my metabolism in high school. Once my weight shifts to where it’s less strain, I’ll like that again. It’s not even the physical pain of menial labor that bothers me. It’s putting up with corporate bullshit… but… most low-end jobs have pretty obvious common-sense rules. Sure, some of it’s BS layout from corporate, or obviously bad legal compromises… but there’s stories there, and you can respect them. At the end of the day, your job is to move things to where they must go so people can find them, and money can be made. I’d probably hate management there, but that’s not what I’d be applying for.

And, for what I want? I do know. I want to help people. I want to see justice. I want to get paid… and I’d like to be creative and occasionally even underhanded when someone deserves it.

I’m not quick. I keep a level head under pressure… I think I’m describing police work. Bit of a surprise, I was expecting counseling. Something to look into either way. I just have to keep in mind that, with any expectations… I’m wrong about reality.

But we all start being wrong. So it’s all right.

The Hornet’s Sting – A Chronicle

Finding myself in a position of having too much money, and too little to lose, I parted way with a few reds and met up with a delicious little number dubbed by myself as “Hornet”. 4-HO-MET, or 4-hydroxy-N-methyl-N-ethyltryptamine – a tasty little chemical string that is synthesized into psilocin – the chemical found in naturally occuring mushrooms of the psilocybin variety. My experience/s with this chemical are as follows:

Monday, 17th May 2010: Deliverance.

4pm – Open package containing sample, eyeball about 20mg, lick finger, stick into powder, then straight into the mouth. Blech, bitter disgusting fucking shit. Washed down with some coca-cola it really sticks around for 15-20 minutes. Licking my lips it remains around my mouth and in my ‘stache a little. Effects creep up slowly, excitement grows, however effects are quite mute and only barely noticeable. The computer monitor is breathing almost. Eyesight is cloudy, like I’ve taken an excessive amount of codeine. I don’t feel particularly lively, but I am quite happy and alert.

6pm, I lick my finger and poke it back into the sample and consume another 7-15mg. Rapid onset bolsters first dose, but barely. I get a little giggly with this. Monitor continues to breathe. I notice this even after I come down off the drug, and it’s 8 hours later.

Verdict: Drug seems non-potent. I wonder if it’s because I constantly dose myself with Tramadol, a known 5ht (serotonin) agonist, and norepinepherine reuptake inhibitor. It’s then and there I decide to abstain from taking tramadol, to observe the effects of the ‘Hornet’.

Wednesday, 19th May 2010:

Once again, around 6pm, I lick my finger and dip it into the sample. Unsure of dose, probably 10-20mg or so. Decide to order precision scale set online. Bitterness like the first time, yet somehow worse makes me gag. I wash the chemicals down with a good litre or so of coca-cola. Tongue is a little numb on the tip. A whole lot of nothing happens this time, apart from codeine-like vision haze. I consider taking more, but don’t. Remaining chem is about 1/3rd of what I had to start off with. Decide to wait til the weekend to take the last dose in one hit.

Saturday, 23rd May, 2010: Still Stings, These Shattered Nerves

Well, 3rd day of my experience, and by far the most remarkable. This day the chemical opened my mind to its true nature – the hornets sting. Tonight was the night I was going to take my largest single dose of Hornet, and I just so happened to be going to a poker night with some mates. At this point in time I’ve been awake for nearly 34 hours, kept stimulated by large doses of caffeineated energy drinks, and a somewhat unhappy stomach.

6:25pm – My friend messages to tell me he’ll be picking me up at 7. Cool I think, I have about an hour til the drug kicks in, so I might aswell take it, and then take a shit before I go out. I swallow a precautionary 10mg metaclopramide (for anti-nausea, and possibly anti-emetic qualities as needed – little did I realise that this would increase my gut problems). I up-end the sample bag onto my hand, and tap every last mg out. I lick the powder which is even more bitter than before. It takes several licks to get all the powder off my hands, each horrible bitter lick aided by a swig of Coca-Cola. I then tear the bag apart and lick the plastic clean of powder. This I remark to someone online, must look very desperate, however, I wished to just get as much of the chemical into me as possible. Swigging the rest of the bottle of Coke, I say farewell to my internet friends, and head to the toilet for a pre-night-out shit.

6:35pm – Sitting on the toilet emptying my stomach out, I sit with a crossword puzzle in a magazine, and start to resume where I left off with it last time. About 4-5 minutes into my shit, I start feeling my vision is getting heavy, and as I did not think the Hornet would be taking effect yet, I put it down to tiredness, exhaustion and caffeine intake. 4-5 crossword answers put in, and I start to notice my mental acuity decreasing, and my ability to fill spaces with synonyms becomes reasonably difficult. The crossword is starting to warp a little bit like if I was starting to get a migraine headache with a heavy visual aura.

6:40pm – Looking around me, the walls start to get more orange under the reasonably dim light. I hear the sound of indian instruments, possibly filtering in from a background source (I believe a TV in another room was on). The walls are starting to spin, throb, bleed, and blend together. At this point I begin to mentally talk to myself – Am I fatigued and passing out? Am I getting a migraine? ….Could the Hornet actually be kicking in? No, I tell myself, Don’t be silly. But the effects remain. I look at my watch. Normal. The only thing that isn’t spinning and changing. I stare at it, and see the minute had very slightly move every few seconds. Fuck. I am definitely starting to trip. And only after 20 minutes? What the fuck is going on? I start to try and hurry myself up a bit. The walls are starting to really blot, like fresh ink running over parchment. This is one thing I get as a first-onset symptom of LSD, and this is how I know it is most definitely the drug.

6:50pm – I finish up, and unsteadily, uncomfortably stand up. Automation takes hold, and I flush the toilet, spray deodouriser, and exit the toilet. I walk into the bathroom and turn on the tap. Leaning forward I look into my own eyes. My pupils are dilated so much that there is barely any of the iris showing, the pupil is just about the entire centre of the eye. This is not particularly surprising to me, and I wash my hands and stiff-legged walk into the livingroom. The TV is on, Funniest Home Videos plays on it, and the dining room light is on, but there is no one around. I take several paces up and down the living area and thru the kitchen, stopping to peer outside and down the driveway. The house feels very comforting, and much like I feel when I visit my grandparents house – a sense of warm familiarity. I am reminded of family Christmas.

6:55pm – I walk outside and under the cover of the pergola. There is reasonably windy showers expected, and I pace back and forth under the pergola, while feeling very shamanistic and almost at one with the earth and nature. I walk around the side of the house and into my room, and sit at my computer to report that the drug had kicked in to a friend online. I sit down and I start to hear a high-pitched, fast-sped giggling, like chipmunks talking. I also hear high pitched twanging music, which resonates after about every noise I hear. My computer monitor is a mess of colours like looking at it with a beaded curtain in the way, the chat window swirls and breathes. Surprisingly I can still manage to communicate online. My keyboard muscle memory remains, nearly unchallenged. My glasses become a window of which my monitor becomes another windows through. In the peripheral of my vision I see the characters from the original series of Star Trek – posing as if on the front of a DVD boxset. If I focus, I see only what is actually there – the top right is a tissue box if focussed, but Uhura in peripheral. I remark this to my friend who finds it absolutely fucking hilarious.

7.04pm – My friend calls me – He’s out the front. I stumble outside to walk around the house, and practically lose vision, as the light turns to dark very quickly. I walk blind for a few steps and my vision slowly returns to me, all at once (yes – slowly all at once. Very fucking weird). I walk under the pergola and thru the living room, then out the front door, locking it behind me. I walk unsteadily to my friends car and open the door and sit. “Sup man” he says “Dude. I am fucking tripping. Absolutely tripping” is the first thing I say. “good thing I’m driving then” he says “Fuck yeah.” says I. we proceed on our way.

7:08pm – We cruise down the street and I babble something about hornet and tripping balls. Out the windscreen all I see is a colourful mass of swirling, moving dark pastels as the rain and fog mist the windscreen. My friend asks me where another friend we’re picking up lives. I reply autonomously, yet unsure of what I was saying. Turned out to be correct, and we end up outside said friends place. He gets in, says what’s up, says he has a present for us, and hands us both a Rockstar Cola. I tell him I have a present for him – I hand him a Romeo Y Julieta No. 1 cigar I meant to give him at Christmas.I tell him what I’ve taken, and he says I’ll probably only want to go one round in poker. He mentions something about getting fucked up on weed (I think).

7:12pm – I lose track of conversation for a moment as the drug takes a hold of my concentration. Outside the window the streaming colour mass is fascinating. I snap back to conversation when personal limits of alcohol consumption are mentioned. Certain people are named and shamed as saying they can drink far more than they actually can. My friend asks me how much alcohol I could put down in one sitting “back in [my] good old days” (2 years ago or so now). I say about 1500mL of spirit (40%/80proof) on a good night. easily 1 litre, and then some, I tell them. The debate other peoples ability to consume alcohol in such high volumes. Conversation switches to how Friend 2 went at the pub the previous night. Titties were mentioned. Fascination for me switched to what I was seeing as the car went around the round-about we had made it to.

7:15pm – I unsteadily drag myself out of the car, holding my can of Rockstar Cola. I remember I forgot my 4-pack of V energy drinks and mention it. I make my way unsteadily towards the house. Standing outside the garage door, Friend 2 starts imitating an humourous accent, through which my other 2 friends who are setup with the poker equipment respond to. The garage door is opened (which knocks over a table leaning against it, beaning Friend3 on the head – which I don’t see, luckily or I probably would have laughed hard). I walk in and stand next to Friend 4 who is sitting down. I am slightly confused at this point, and finding normal comprehension of words and social interaction more challenging. I  sit down between Friend 3 and 4, and exclaim “I am so unbelievably Fucking high right now. You have no idea.”, this elicits laughter and an exclaimation from Friend 3 that “yeah man, you look fucked.”

7:20pm – We’re all settled in for a game of poker and I’m having trouble comprehending what people are even saying. As their mouths move, it seems a second, phantom-like mouth is ghosting their real mouth, and is out of synch with their actual mouth. I am a little giggly at this stage, and start to laugh somewhat uncontrollably for no reason. This creates a kind of “lets see how much we can make him laugh” game by my friends, which, while annoying and frustrating on LSD, was actually kind of enjoyable on Hornet. I chuckle and compose myself. Friend 1 owes me for a cigar I purchased for him, and he buys me in for the first round and hands me the change over the table. Automation takes over for this task.

7:25pm – Cards are dealt and I’m told to play my bet. I am confused as what to do, however my mind is still reasonably coherent. I remember the rules of the game and which chips are which. I place my bet and play my hand reasonably well. Strong visuals make the world seem like it is shifting in front of itself – existing objects start to ghost other objects. The table throbs. The cards bleed into the fabric. My brain is nearly on another plain of existence.

8:00pm – Lost track of time. I play cards reasonably decently, however I bet somewhat non-characteristically. I sip my Rockstar cola every now and then, which Friend 3 helpfully opened for me after he saw me staring at it. Friend 3 and 4 continually make references to how fucked up I seem, and that they will be violating me sexually should I pass out. I assure them I’m not taking a drug which will make me tired, and to instead violate Friend 2 after he passes out from bourbon and weed. I end up wit hthe dealer chip, and have to deal the deck. I actually manage to not fuck it up. Effects of the drug seem to have plateaud very nicely at this stage.

8:15pm (approx) – I decide I need to take a piss, and decide to do so outside. It is raining quite heavily and I am determined not to give a shit. I walk straight out into the rain and start pissing up against a shed, not realising how soaked im getting. I finish up and walk back, drying my glasses on the way. I get back and I’m apparently drenched. Everyone laughs and comments how fucked up I must be. I’m totally nonchalant about it, and I’m not feeling heat or cold at the time. Now am I feeling my usually aching back. I continue to sip my drink and play poker (almost).

My mind wanders heavily during this stage, and I end up zoning out quite a bit, thinking about life, existence, the universe, and certain people I hold dear to me. Friends, family, and others. Humanity, and its ability to live like a bacteria. Right strains of bacteria go on to continue their existence and to evolve, whereby the stragglers of humanity branch out – the rednecks, hillbillies, and other degenerates, exploring and colonising the most uninhabitable shitholes on the planet, doing so just to continue their existence, and spread themselves onto the next generation. Facts of life, drug use, chemical reactions on my brain become very surreal, as if this may be the clear conscious, and my sober self the troubled, unrealistic person. I think about death. I think it’d probably suck, but at the moment I am very much alive. I wish for clarity, but then I quickly stop the thought, and instead embrace the trip.

9:00pm – By this stage I’m out at poker. Friend 4 put me all-in. It was for the best, I had no idea what the fuck was going on anymore. I stare at my watch. It’s still real. 9:00 on the dot. Still set to singapore date. all is normal. Brain wanders incredibly, vastly contemplating all the other above mentioned things. I get asked if I’m ok. “What?” I reply after a long pause. Friend 3 remarks that its rude, and I should say excuse me. At the time I can not properly distinguish if he’s joking or serious. I lapse back into deep thought

9:05pm – About 30 minutes later…oh wait, it was less than 5 minutes. I zone out thinking and snap back to my watch. 5 Minutes. Really? Seemed I was out for 30. I take my focus off the watch. The game continues on in front of me. Friend 2 is out of the game also, his pipe ready for the smoking. I zone out again

9:15pm – Around 10pm….no wait – its still only 9:15? what the fuck? How could I have so many thoughts in just 10 minutes? I am amazed. Observable time is dramatically slowed down. Living time is sped up. Confusion is very slowly starting to clear up around this point. I think I’m on the comedown. Visuals still persist but are becoming more muted. Psychological effects are still in gear.

9:45pm – Observable time returns slowly to normal around this point. Total mental haze clears up a very slight amount. Thought about humans being extremely complex animals begins to circulate in my head. I think of humans forming relationships with members of the opposite sex, and how the pursuit in life is still so basically and instinctually drive, even when some humans choose to pursue other feats, the human drive is to ultimately reproduce, or to atleast simulate reproduction. The man who deludes himself is only fighting the very core that he is built upon. I think about how a relationship would effect me at this time, and I start to think about certain people on a slightly deeper level. I become slightly lonely and begin to miss certain people. I wonder what they’re up to, and how I am suddenly very interested in whatever they have to say. This troubles me slightly as I realise my instincts are still at my thought basis. I decide this is probably not going to change. I miss cetain people more.

10:30pm – The effect of the drug is definitely wearing down quite a bit now. There is only residual mental cloudyness. Visual effects are all but gone, but slightly persistant. Visual bleeding still occuring slightly, as is objects breathing. I am feeling like taking a little tramadol to up my serotonin so I can shift back to normality a little quicker

10:45pm – I excuse myself to take a crap, as my stomach has been churning the whole time I’ve been tripping. “seeya in 30 minutes” comes the chorus back. I stand up and stumble a little, unsteady on my feet, and I make my way into the house. Passing a couple of people lounging, I say hi, and get hassled by the stupid dog, which yaps at me until I get to the toilet and close the door. As I’m sitting there I look at the tiles, and notice they seem to have a pattern on them which looks very 3-dimensional. I sit and think a bit more about life and stare at my watch. Time moves extremely fast, and by 11:15 I decide I had better get the fuck out.

11:20pm – I walk back through the house, and into the garage where the poker game is still going. I’m asked if I’m ok, of which I am, and then I take a glass and have a few coca colas. This is about where my memory cuts off as it took me a good two weeks to write this article. However, I must say that 4-HO-MET is a very fun, and extraordinary drug. I would recommend it to anyone (except those with possible underlying mental issues)

EOF

Living without social media

So, as I am a catholic, I am (at least nominally) required to give something up for the forty days before Easter, also known as Lent. So, it came down to 11:00 or so on the night of Fat Tuesday, and i still hadn’t come up with anything. A few minutes after this thought floated on through my head, I thought about precisely how much time I wasted dicking around on the Internet. And thus, an Idea was born. Fairly quickly I realized it was pretty much impossible to avoid it completely in this day and age, so I revised my proscription to what I deem the Big 3 (twitter, Facebook, and IRC). So, about halfway through now, I’ve decided to post my findings.

1) I’m reading a LOT more. I’ve read more books in the past three weeks than I have in most of the past year.

2) I spend less time on the Internet in general. While I haven’t completely stopped Internet-dicking-about, it’s reduced to reading technology blogs.

3) I’m reading far less webcomics, which is a combination of several things, but partially due to the lack of comic-related chatter on IRC.

4) My grades have not significantly improved. This further supports my conclusion that teenagers will find ways to procrastinate, even without the major time-wasters on the internet.

5) I don’t suck at StarCraft anymore. This could be related, or it could not be. However, it is something I have realized as the days have gone by.

In light of all this, I don’t think I’ll be staying away permanently. i would guess I’ll spend less time on facebook,at least in the time immediately following Easter, but I get the feeling I’ll still spend hours on IRC as soon as I’m able to.

Of Broken Bones And Gods

People seem to be entertained when I tell stories of norse myth, so why not add one of these stories here?

In this story Thor and Loki are returning from Udgard after a troll hunt.

Alright, ok, I might need getting you up to speed on a few things. First of all, the gods. There are many gods and godlike creatures and beings and spirits. Thor is one of the big ones, and while you probably have heard of Thor before, you got it all wrong. Thor is NOT a blonde bimbo hunk like the Marvel Thor. The REAL Thor is a force of nature, a man of huge girth and strength, with a temper to match his red hair and beard. Think “fat drunken Irishman” and you’re not far off, only he’s not drunk, he’s just not the brightest god there is. Thor is the thing you put between you and the enemy, and tell him to make them dead. His main weapon is the hammer Mjølner, a magical hammer that he can throw at people and it will return to his hand at his command.

And his buddy on this trip is Loki. Loki is… hard to put in a box. He’s a god, but also a free spirit. He’s been called the “God of Lies” but that’s only part of the story, as he is the gods’ main diplomat and an intellect to be admired. Problem is he gets bored. He then get into problems. And the problems usually grow to such an extent that he has to use all his intellect and diplomacy to get out of the problems. And, uh, lie and cheat. You might call him the prototype politician.

So, they’re returning from Udgard, which is where the trolls live. Udgard is one of the three major portions of the world, the other being Midgard, where the mortal humans live, and Asgard, where the Asir, a flavour of gods, lives. Udgard is a nasty place, full of foul creatures. Here be dragons. Oh, did I mention that Loki came from there originaly? As for trolls, all you need to know is that they are not nice and need to be hunted from time to time.

So there we have it. Thor and Loki returning from the troll hunt, a bro-thing. They’re riding along in Thor’s sweet ride, the goat cart, powered by the biggest meanest goats ever. I’m trying hard here to make them sound awesome. Oh, yeah, they can fly! Also their hooves make the thunderous sound, AKA “thunder”. Did I mention that Thor is the god of thunder and lightning? This is partly why. Yeah, because of… goats. Anyway…

In order to get from Udgard to Asgard, where they live, they have to pass over Midgard. They’re running a bit late, so they decide to stay in Midgard for the night, so Thor swings the cart down from the skies and into the farmyard of a small farm.

The farm is run by a man and his wife, and their son and daughter, Tjalfe and Røskva. Yes, those are names. Anyway, here comes the God of Thunder and the God of Skillful Avoiding of a Beatdown and they demand to be fed for the night. The farmer complains that they are poor people, and if they had only gotten an advance notice they could have started soaking the dried meat and maybe brought out the spare bed, but Thor laughs at the silly humans and promptly slays one of his goats with a stroke of his hammer and goes, there, cook that. It’s good goat. Only don’t break any bones, for reasons that will be apparent later. So the farmer sets his kids and wife at work with preparing the dead goats.

So, they have a nice evening with Thor eating, drinking and telling stories of how many trolls he slew and so forth. Meanwhile Loki, having heard the same old bullshit stories over and over again, grows bored. He notices that the kid, Tjalfe, is eyeing the bones, and scoots over to him and ask him what the deal is? The kid really likes marrow, it seems, but Thor told him not to break the bones. What are you, chicken?, asks Loki, and Tjalfe, while being a good kid, is a teenage boy, which is another way of saying he is not thinking with his head half of the time, so he’s all Me? Chicken? Never! Loki proceeds to make clucking sounds and even dares him, yes, even double dares him to break the bones. It’s just a goddamn bone, Thor will never notice. Or perhaps mortals just lack the guts. Prove me wrong, kid, prove me wrong. So the kid does so, eats the marrow, and tosses the broken bone in the pile with the others.

So, yeah, the next morning, Thor gets up and goes to the bone pile and swings his hammer over them, and PRESTO, a live goat appears. See, the goats are getting more and more awesome, yeah? Anyway, the goat walks around with a limp, obviously a broken bone, so Thor goes into a rage and pulls the poor farmer out of his bed, shakes him like a maracas and threatens to punch his fucking face in, you shithead! Tjalfe wakes up and goes oh CRAP when he remembers the broken bone from last night, but goes to face the music, or in this case face the red-faced gorilla shaking his father, and soon Thor is shaking the kid instead, while he tries to explain that Lllloki mmmade mme doooo ittttt. Loki steps in and tells Thor to settle down, maybe we can find a solution, let’s not get violent towards the mortals we are usually protecting, chill bro, chill, while the farmer agrees that we would also like that he and his family remained living.

Loki puts forth that the kid, as a penance, could work for Thor as a manservant. Thor is still mad and starts complaining that this is little comfort since they now have to WALK the whole norndamned way home which is literally at the end of the world and back, so the Farmer, still shook up and scared offers his daughter as well. The red mist finally subsides and Thor see the benefits and agrees.

So, well, that’s the story really. Loki was a dick as usual, but it worked out in the end, for the gods at least. The goat eventually got better too, so don’t feel sad about it.

There may be a moral to this story somewhere. Maybe something about not going along on a dare, I dunno. Anyway, it’s a story with magic goats, so there is that.

Bob’s Educational Corner: An Evening With the Pope

Welcome, friends, to the second edition of Bob’s Educational Corner. Tonight, we have a very special guest:  St. Eleutherius, the thirteenth Pope. Thank you for joining us, your Holiness.

St. Eleutherius: A pleasure, my child.

Bob’s Educational Corner: Now, to start, I want to let everyone know a little about tonight’s format. Education is a serious subject, but we here at Bob’s Educational Corner believe it’s important to make it fun and engaging, as well as informative and relevant. To that end, we invite our guests to help us decide what would best suit the interview. And for tonight, St. Eleutherius has requested a boxing match.

St.E: I felt an MMA match would be too uncivilized for tonight’s discourse.

BEC: I can certainly understand that, Eminence. *Putting on gloves.* Now, I’ve read that you were instrumental in early Christianity’s stand against the Montanist movement. Would you say that’s accurate?

St.E: *Jabbing the air, bouncing from foot to foot.* To a point, yes. I do not want to imply I pushed against them from the start, but when it seemed actions need be taken, I ensured that they were.

BEC: I see. *Right hook.* So did you feel this philosophy had to be stopped?

St.E: *Sidestep, right jab* The philosophy was heretical, true, but my major concern was the welfare of the faithful. I acted only when their souls were in danger.

BEC: *Shoulder block.* So you’ve written in your memoir, “I Was a Teenage Radio to God”. But what about the claims that you are secretly a vampire, and wanted to turn the church into a personal blood-bank? *Vicious left to the face*

St.E: *Skillful pirrouete* My child, I am the Pope. I can not be a vampire, any more than you can be a good Catholic. *Uppercut counter*

BEC: *Retreating, attempting to circle* So you deny the reports linking you to virgins drained of their blood, armies of undead servants, and Godzilla? *Jab! Jab!*

St.E: Blasphemy. *Duck, twist* I never even met Godzilla.

BEC: And your comment on pictures showing you, at a White House fund raiser in 1954, drinking punch with the aforementioned giant lizard? *Hard left to the chin*

St.E: *Off balance, reeling* You cannot expect me to remember the guest list of every function I attend. I am sure I have had punch or shared a hooker with dozens of Washington insiders at one time or another-*Glancing hook to solar plexus*- mere pleasantries of state, not evidence of collusion.

BEC: *Backing away* Then you also deny stories of a drunken bender in 1521, when you, Godzilla, and Martin Luther trashed the Vatican’s guest room? *Hurricane Fist*

St.E: I plead the Fifth! *Crane Parts Lilly Pad*

BEC: This is not a criminal trial, your Holiness! *OBJECTION* The Fifth can not be invoked!

St.E: I have diplomatic immunity from jurisprudence! *Legal JargPWND*

BEC: Your mother has diplomatic immunity! *C-c-c-combo!*

St.E: Your FACE has diplomatic immunity! *Moose and squirrel!*

BEC: Your mustache looks like Hitler’s! *Third Reich’d!*

St.E: Your FACE looks like Hitler’s! *Denied!*

Referee: *Whistle* Stop! Break it up, break it up! Invoking Nazis is grounds for disqualification. Both sides forfeit- match is a draw. *Godwin’s Law-ed!*

BEC: *Wiping blood from eye and offering free hand* Thank you for joining us, your Eminence.

St.E: *Spitting out tooth and shaking hand* My pleasure.

BEC: That’s all for this installment of Bob’s Educational Corner. Join us next time, when my concussion fades and I stop tasting purple. Good night, and good learning.