Items of note:
The Book of Mormon (score!)
Popcorn
1 “Do Not Disturb” sign (a record low)
Answers to your questions on Monday, and maybe Tuesday too. And also possibly Wednesday.
Archive for the 'atheism!' Category
Hey did you see the head Italian child-raper was in DC yesterday? Yeah, it was totally awesome how all of his douchebag followers filled the city with their idiocy on the same day I had to drive to a meeting in Alexandria.
Actually, it was partially my fault. I should have given a wide berth to all the cars I saw that had bumper stickers that said, “God is my copilot” or “God is my pilot” or “Apparently God is a fucking douchebag of a driver and I’m a lobotomized asshole who will do anything a highly edited and poorly translated book of fairy tales tells me to do because I clearly have no idea how to fucking operate an automobile and neither does my pie-in-the-sky deity-of-choice”.
I really should have avoided every one of those goddamned be-Jesus-fished hate-moblies because the little magnetic fish pretty much acted as a warning sign for “watch out because I’m merging without signaling or checking my rear view” or “Der, what’s a steering wheel? Why isn’t Jeebus driving for me? I’m hungry. I need a new diaper. I wish I was watching Steve Wilkos right now.” or “I’m driving 5 miles per hour on the highway because I’m a fucking douchebag cocksmoker child-rapist-forgiving shitfuck dick-spinning turd-swallower and traffic scares me”.
So yeah, if you couldn’t tell by my tone, it was pretty much 40 miles of concentrated awesomeness on the way to DC. I finally got to my meeting, 30 minutes late because of those holy-roller nipple-twisters, and then later on the day looked like it might even be salvageable as the temperature increased to mild summer temperature ranges.
And when we jumped on 395 to head home we weren’t faced with nearly the volume of purified idiotic assholery that we had to steer through on our way down…
because they were all waiting for us on 295 north.
I swear, my next car is going to be a tank with a giant drill on the front so I can bore my way over or through those malevolent fuckwads who think it’s just fucking SUPER to get on the road during rush hour so they can see their high-grand-eagle do a cross burning at the local stadium, and my fucking death car of Righteous Fucking Justice Dispatched DailyTM will have an articulated arm with a branding iron on the end of it so I can stamp all the cheese-dicks in the middle of their fucking foreheads with the words “I’m a shitty fucking douchebag numbnuts dumbfuck of a driver and you should punch me in the nuts or ovaries right fucking now because I deserve it for being a fucking asshole and you should sterilize me too,” and I’ll have a quadraphonic sound system mounted on the roof constantly repeating “You are a shitty driver. Kill yourself” and I’ll be able to focus that shit at those fucks and turn the fucker all the way to 11 and watch the blood trickle out of their ears as for ONCE I am able to make my way down the road unimpeded.
So yesterday I went to the funeral home with my brothers, my cousin, my mom, and all my aunts and uncles. If you know anything about funeral arrangements, you know it’s the worst parts of buying a car wrapped up with all the fun and excitement of the death of a loved one. It is every bit as sleazy, scammy, and manipulative as you would imagine it could be.*
I’m glad my brothers and I were there, because had we not been, I think my mom and her siblings could have been suckered into a whole bunch of unnecessary expenses, some of which they were suckered into regardless.
It all started when the funeral home started pressuring us into getting my grandfather embalmed. Actually, it started way before that. The death industry has managed to subtly spread the myth that not only is embalming necessary for a body to be presentable, but that it may even be required by law. In Maryland, it’s not the law. There is a stipulation that “extended viewing” would allow the funeral home to require embalming, but nowhere is “extended viewing” defined. When my family sat down to have a discussion about whether or not embalming was necessary, the misinformation was coming out of the mouths of my relatives. “If he’s not embalmed we can’t have an open casket,” or “If he’s not embalmed he’ll start to stink,” or “If he’s not embalmed we won’t be able to bury him.” From what I can tell, all of these are inaccurate. Embalming is expensive ($1600 in our case), unnecessary where cold storage is available, unnatural, and bad for the environment. Does anyone has experience with a viewing and an non-embalmed body? I’d love to hear it.
The next big ticket item that can be ignored, one that we managed to keep our family from purchasing unnecessarily, is a vault. In Maryland a vault is not required, but a graveliner is (I think). A graveliner essentially keeps the ground from collapsing as the coffin degrades, and it keeps some moisture out of the grave, as well as keeping any degrading material of the body or the coffin out of the ground. It’s essentially a box in the ground that the coffin goes into. A vault is a box that goes inside the graveliner, and then the coffin goes in the vault. They start at about $3000 bucks for plain concrete and then go as high as $20,000 for fancy stuff with copper or bronze linings and embellishments. They try and sell you on the vault by saying that without it “weather” could get into the coffin sooner, essentially forcing you to visualize the deceased rotting in the ground. In our case it would have been an especially bad decision to buy a vault because our grandfather won’t even be buried with us at the graveside. The cemetery only does burials once or twice a month, and all the bodies delivered to the cemetery before that day are buried then, no visitors allowed. We wouldn’t have ever seen the vault even if we purchased it. And I wouldn’t be surprised if numerous families had purchased vaults, only for that money to go into the pockets of funeral salesmen. Don’t let a funeral director tell you that a vault is required unless you’ve read the law and know he’s right. In Maryland, he wouldn’t be.
Eventually we got to the coffins themselves, and that was a horrible process in and of itself. They try to sell you on all this fancy, polished, filigreed nonsense, when all you want is something simple and respectful. My older brother asked for a book of cheaper options once we reached the end of the first book and the cheapest option was $3000. We were told that the book we were looking at was the only book available. Then my mom told a story about when my grandfather was making arrangements for his sister and the funeral director then told him that the option he had picked for his sister was “nice”. “No,” he barked in reply, “Not nice. A necessity.” After that story the funeral director magically found a book of cheaper options. My family eventually settled on something for about $1,400 that looked remarkably like a similar option available for $700, but my mom and her siblings took a vote and opted for the more expensive one. I’m still not sure why. It’s not like you can go to a funeral and remember what the casket looked like, or that you could (or even should) look at a casket and guess how much it cost. Just build me one out of plywood. It’ll be good enough.
But that’s the thing about coffins, everybody wants to think that with a nice enough vault, graveliner, and coffin, the body will stay perfect forever. In fact, the funeral director kept talking about how some coffins had gaskets and how others did not. He was really pushing the gasket thing pretty hard, I think for the same reason as the vault: to scare people into thinking of their loved one decomposing. Well guess what? We all decompose. There’s nothing you can do to prevent it. You’re going to be rotting in the ground regardless, and all this bullshit they try and sell you does nothing but prevent the former husk of your loved one from doing what it does naturally. You’ll never see them like that, so why do you even give a fuck? Are you concerned that they’ll check out the digs you bought for them if they come back in spirit form? Why the fuck would they do that? They could haunt themselves up season tickets for the Ravens and the Orioles. They could haunt themselves up a nice little spot in a strip club. They could haunt themselves up a seat in a movie theater. Why would they want to bother seeing the nonsensical shit you bought for them? They are dead! It doesn’t matter what they liked, or what they hated. They’ll never see any of it.
Finally we came to all the small details nonsense that still managed to cost an arm and a leg. A bouquet to go on top of the coffin? $200. A book for people to sign with their name and address? $40. Prayer cards? $80 for 200. And while I’m on the topic of prayer cards, what the hell are they all about? They’re like funeral trading cards. I really don’t understand why people take these things, and I REALLY don’t understand why they take 3 or 4 at a time. It’s just a card with a name, two dates, and a prayer on it. You can make your own for free, AND you can pick your own prayer! I tried to push for only getting 100, but my uncle insisted we get at least 200. I’m glad they only went that high. I can just imagine a box of 500.
My grandmother is still learning of the loss of her husband, hundreds of times every day. Fuck anyone who would dare spin that into a good thing. Comments are back on.
*Here’s Penn and Teller’s evaluation of the death industry on Bullshit. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.
So after my dad’s family buried his sister on Friday, my mom loses her dad this past Sunday. It’s like being a rat in a fucked up experiment where I can propose hypotheses about mourning the loss of someone close and then experience it first hand. It really really sucks, and it hurts a lot.
The worst part about it is my grandmother. She has Alzheimer’s so each of my family members had to take turns consoling her as she learned of the loss of my grandfather. After the first dozen or so times I heard her learn the news I couldn’t take it anymore, so I went downstairs with the rest of my family. Eventually, no one else could take it either, so they got her to leave his body (he died in his sleep) and move down into the kitchen. It was okay for a while, but then she started asking why so many people were at her house, and we’d have to tell her again.
I try not to intentionally antagonize religion when I write, but I’m having some trouble resisting this morning. I stopped believing in deities and all that go along with them a long time ago, but I don’t let it bother me when others suppose about the existence of a supreme being. However, I find it difficult to swallow the argument that a loving god could exist and simultaneously allow a woman who had never done anything wrong to anyone to freshly mourn the loss of her husband of 62 years every 5 minutes or so. Can you even imagine the pain of looking around for your significant other and learning that they had died? Can you imagine having to go through that for the rest of your life, every moment spent in pain and loss and grief? Like I said, I don’t believe, and I think this is going to make it harder for me to listen to those who insist that something that loves us is omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent.
And don’t give me any of that “mysterious ways” bullshit, because it’s a cop out. This woman is going through Hell.
Anyway, I was asked to write the obituary, so I just wanted to get that out of my system lest it end up in the newspaper.
It’s been a bad morning.
At some point last night I decided it would be an AWESOME idea to have a big, fat Screwdriver at 11:30. Sure, I’d started with some scotch at 6:30, then moved on to red wine, then on to a porter, then on to white wine, then back to red wine, then back to porter. It was at that point that I should have stopped, but my stupid drunk brain was like, “Dude. Dude. You know what would be awesome right now? A screwdriver! Yeah! Dude, it’s like, healthy ’cause it’s orange juice. Yeah, we should totally have one. Dude. Have I ever steered you wrong? Yeah. Awesome.”
And so there I was on the couch, screwdriver in one hand, remote in the other, barely able to focus on Ace of Cakes.
It should have come as no surprise to me that I had chest melting heartburn a few hours later, but upon waking I was like, “How on earth could THIS have happened?”
Nearly 8 hours later and the heartburn still isn’t completely gone, and I’ve got, as Angy Hangy put it so succinctly in a somewhat related email from last Friday, “liquid Drano” in my guts. I already dominated the bathroom in my house so thoroughly that when Sherlock poked his head through the door he immediately turned around and walked out. Before this morning I would have sworn that it was impossible for cats to gag.
Anyway, as I’m trying to pull my stupid, hungover ass together this morning, I got a call from my dad that my aunt had just died. She was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer a few weeks ago, and the cancer was extremely aggressive, so it’s kind of good to know that she’s not in pain anymore.
I know I deal with death differently than other people, and my aunt is no exception. It’s hard to say right now if I feel sad. I feel bad for my dad, of course, as well as my other aunts and uncles, my cousins, and their kids. I know they’re really upset. And I feel bad for my Grandmother, because it’s got to be painful to lose a child. But I’m really hard pressed to describe my emotions as sad. I’m contemplative, somber, and pensive, and I sympathize with my relatives, but I’m not sad. And now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever been sad to hear about someone dying. I always express my condolences, because I know death can really tear other people apart inside, but sadness eludes me.
I’ve never had someone extremely close to me die, like my brothers, parents, or my wife. But even when I was a little kid and my grandfather died, I kind of just accepted it. And I think about people that have died, and I miss them, of course, but my mind never dwells on it. It’s kind of like, “Oh, I miss the way he used to joke about how we had three kinds of stuffing at Thanksgiving.” And then my thoughts move on.
I speculate that part of my lack of reaction is because I don’t believe in an afterlife. I’ve accepted death as an inevitability, so the deaths of others, or thinking about my own death, don’t cause me discomfort. I don’t want to die, and I don’t want my loved ones to die, but there’s nothing I can really do about it, so there’s no point in worrying over it.
I’m interested in having a frank discussion about death in the comments if anyone else is interested. How do you react to death or loss? Do you believe in the afterlife? If so or if not, does this comfort you? I hope it goes without saying that today most necrophilia jokes won’t be tolerated, but humor is always welcome.
I wasn’t really sure what I was going to post about this morning, but lucky for me, the craziness once again provided itself. Opening my work email, I find this gleaming monument to the pinnacle of cukoo-bananas reasoning (It’s long, so I cut out the least crazy stuff):
The United States Congress is the most powerful governing body in the world and much of what they do is all done in secret. The Congress has more power than the President and most people don’t realize how much the Congress is involved in their personal private lives.
Okay, I have to admit that this is just the standard version of crazy so far. Nothing to really get worked up about. I have uncles that probably believe this blase conspiracy-nonsense tripe. “Much of what they do is done in secret,” though? I guess that’s news to CSPAN, CSPAN2, CSPAN3, and CSPAN4.
You may have heard of some of the many public Congressional Caucuses such as the Congressional Black Caucus and the National Women’s Political Caucus, but did you know that there are also many secret congressional caucuses. A Congressional caucus is a group of congressmen that meet to pursue common objectives. Some of the secret caucuses are homosexual caucus and the atheist caucus. They’re intent is to keep their true identity secret, not because it has anything to do with national security, but because the public would not accept what they are doing.
snip
Ah, here we go. Now we’re getting into the very special and very personal kind of crazy. Crazy over the gays and the atheists. Do me a favor and name the three atheist members of congress requisite to create the laughably small but technically accurate “Atheist Caucus”. Go ahead. I’ll wait.
So open up your morning light,
And say a little prayer for I
You know that if we are to stay alive
Then see the peace in every eye…
I don’t want to to wait for our lives to be over,
I want to know right now what will it be
I don’t want to wait for our lives to be over,
Will it be yes or will it be…
Oh, you’re back. I imagine if you used the Almighty Goog you found Pete Stark and nobody else. A caucus one person does not make. The gay caucus, is of course, real.
How would you like it if the Congressional Homosexual Caucus was investigating and trying to influence your behavior or your children’s behavior? They and their staff members try to influence the News Media, the Entertainment Industry and the Advertisement Industry. Believe it or not, but they are deeply involved in trying to influence the personal private lives of Americans ANY WAY THAT THEY CAN.
snip
Yes. Influencing the lives of Americans is MUCH more important than taking money from toadying lobbyists and shoring up support for the next election. Every congressman prefers strutting around in god-denying hot pants to a fat wad of cash from developers who want to drill for oil in Mt. Rushmore.
The Congress has more power than the President does and part of its power is to conduction investigations on the many different issues concerning Americans.
snip
I think Mr. Tinfoilhat needs a lesson in checks, balances, and vetoes. Also, grammar and spelling.
But many congressmen abuse this power and they conduct their own investigations for their own personal interest. They investigate their personal enemies, personal friends, people they dislike, etc.
snip
Phew, that’s a relief. I was worried they’d investigate SOMEONE ELSE’S enemies and friends. Good thing it’s only personal enemies and friends.
If a Congressman wants to violate the civil liberties of someone by putting that person under a constant surveillance all he or she has to do is get the approval of the President which is easy for a Congressman. He or she just has to attach it to a bill that the President will sign. Congressmen add items to Bills all the time and because a Bill can be over a thousand pages such items can go unnoticed.
snip
Stupid Democrats! They could have impeached Bush YEARS ago by just tricking him into signing a bill where they had attached some impeachment paperwork. In fact, I think the Constitution says a post-it note with the words, “ur impeeched lulz” would have sufficed.
I will tell you who one such individual is. It’s Congressman John Spratt from South Carolina. He uses his power as a Congressman to investigate people he hates and people he would like to manipulate. As a Congressman he can find all about a persons finances by tracking credit card purchases and checking accounts. He can also track all Internet activity to that person’s residents and monitor phone conversations. With this information he can then determine someone’s behavioral patterns and then try to manipulate someone’s activities.
snip
I’m not sure what John Spratt did to this dude, but I already emailed his staff with this letter, so we’ll see if I hear anything back from them about it. Also, I had no idea that congressmen were interested in finding out how many times I bought Cheetos from the 7-11. I guess it’s time to start paying for everything in gold bouillon. You know they have little cameras and micro transmitters in cash, right? RIGHT!?
By knowing all the personal details of someone he then tries to discredit them at their job and in their neighborhood. Only God has the right to meddle in our private lives, not the church nor the state.
snip
*head explodes*
Simply voting such people out of office is not sufficient punishment for these individuals. They must be held accountable for their evil deeds, but in many respects the Congress polices it’s self. Such evil people can not go unpunished.
snip
This is the part that really scared me about the email. Is it just me, or does it look like a veiled threat to anyone else? I’m sure the guy is harmless as long as his supply of Hot Pockets and his access to “Loose Change” on youtube never ends. Until then, I won’t hold my breath for you to find 2 more atheist congress members.
(Full text of the original email after the jump, if you’re interested)
Continue reading ‘The morning craziness’
I ache. I spent my entire weekend helping my older brother put up a fence in his backyard. I’ve probably already written way too much about it, so I won’t say any more except that it is an extremely labor intensive process, and after spending 10 hours working on Saturday, my body was not very happy about another 8 hours of work on Sunday.
Actually, you know what? It’s my blog, and if I want to write about a fence, you’re going to read it, because you have nothing else better to do between now and that horrible Monday morning meeting where middle-management just keeps going on and on and on describing mundane accomplishments like buying a new copy machine as if cancer had been cured and man had finally mated with manatee.
I won’t really bore you with the details, but I will tell you about the tool I was using both days. A two-man five-horsepower auger with an 8-inch-bit. Yes, it’s all right if you just got a sudden rush of blood to your groin. Unfortunately for us, our augering didn’t go as well as in the video due to a 6 to 12 inch layer of compacted clay. We were, at points, sitting on the arms of the auger just to try to force it to dig a few more inches. It was a goddamned pain in the ass. But, whenever you use an enormous phallic object to dig gaping yonic holes, a few jokes are bound to creep up. Combine that with a younger brother with an almost compulsive obsession to shout, “That’s what she said!” after anyone says anything, and you’ve got a mother-lode of comedy to mine.
For example:
“Just jam the thing in the hole and see if that doesn’t do anything.”
“That’s what she said!”
“All these holes are about as deep as we can get them.”
“That’s what she said!”
“Put your arm in here! All the drilling made the hole hot.”
“That’s what she said!”
And so on. It made the blisters I have now almost worthwhile.
Finally, Sunday morning on the way down to my brother’s house, my other brother and I stopped for coffee. As he was in the 7-Eleven getting coffee, I was waiting in the car with the window down. A old woman walked over to me and stuffed a pamphlet in my face saying, “We just wanted to give this to all our neighbors.” I didn’t even know what the pamphlet was about, I just reflexively said, “No thanks.” Surprisingly, she pulled the pamphlet away and smiled. For a second I thought, “Wow. No hard sell. Maybe she was just being friendly,” but before I could even finish my thought she said, “That’s okay. We also just want to remind you to keep reading your Bible.” So I looked at her and said, “No thanks.” She sputtered and looked like I had just slapped her in the face. She also looked like she was about to say something else, but I’m pretty sure my shit-eating grin let her know that she’d probably be better off selling her religion to someone else.
Right now lots of people are probably imagining Jerry Falwell being force-fed barbed-wire cocks that ejaculate magma while slowly roasting in a pit of unending fire. Lots of other people probably see him with a harp and halo getting a hummer from Mother Teresa while burning a cross at the gates of “Black Heaven”.
Me? I’d like to think that when that fat-fucker’s heart stopped beating he had a few moments to call out to his god and that his bowels emptied into his tighty-whities as he heard nothing but silence in return.
He’s worm-food, bitches.
So after the lawnmower incident from yesterday, the neighbor’s wife calls about the roof situation. (Here’s the story in the quickest way I can spill it: her nephew is a roofer and had a guy swing by her place to make sure everything was okay. The guy says it could stand some new shingles. The neighbor calls us and tries to get us to go along with this new roof thing. We relent because we share a roof. She calls another company for an estimate. I call five, but can only get info from two.) Apparently she’s eager to get some new shingles on our common roof, so she keeps being passive aggressive and asking if Mrs. ACW and I have talked about the roof yet. After a consultation from Fick Bros., an 8:30am Saturday visit (the neighbor picked the time and date. Bitch.) from Trust Worthy* Construction, and a psuedo-estimate from the Home Depot, we were ready to go with her guy. If he does a good job, I’ll let you know who he is. If he does a terrible job, I’ll also let you know who he is. (Home Depot apparently doesn’t work on common roofs because of liability reasons. The Home Depot guy was nice enough, however, to spell out what he would have done had he taken the job and given us an estimate for his work. He was only $1500 more than the guy we’re going with, and he would have provided the exact same type of serve as they contract states for the guy we’re going with, so right now I think we’ve got a pretty good deal.)
Fuck. What a boring post.
The reason I laugh at Trust Worthy Construction is threefold. First, they clearly can’t spell worth a damn. Trustworthy is one word. One. Idiots. Second, they gave us the highest quote. Even Fick Bros. who agreed to do a ballpark quote over the phone if I gave them measurements, and then explained that they were going to give me the most expensive estimate since they haven’t seen the place, came in $2000 cheaper than the guy from Trust Worthy* who actually walked up on our roof and claimed the boards underneath were rotting away. My neighbor, being a dimbulb, helped confirm this fallacy by saying she hadn’t been in her attic in years. Me? I was in the attic for three days two weeks ago laying down plywood to create an unfinished floor up there. The roof boards are fine. Better than fine, even. They’re surprisingly strong after 22 years of being up there. Could they stand to be replaced? Possibly, but they are under no circumstances crumbling. So they’re either liars, or they’re idiots, or possibly even lying idiots. I do not want these people working on my house.
The third reason I laugh at Trust Worthy Construction is because of their evangelism. On all their trucks they have Jesus fish and crosses, and their business card has the standard Jeezy Creezy Lord and Savior Drink at the Wang of God Poof Now You’re Saved claptrap that I’m sure we’re all familiar with. Got problems in your life? It’s because you haven’t been saved! Been saved and still have problems? You just need to be saved again? Problems still? How about another saving?! If these people who constantly rely on all this saving nonsense were to instead take a look at their lives, make some modifications, and then change their behaviors they wouldn’t need to be constantly clutching at their god’s skirt. I mean honestly, they’re treating themselves like an old Nintendo game. Anytime anything gets fouled up this magical superstition cranks into high gear and we’re suddenly blowing into the cartridge from right to left before carefully sliding the game back in to the Nintendo as opposed to thinking, “Gee, I keep spilling milkshakes on my Nintendo. Maybe I should clean the Nintendo out, and be more careful about my milkshakes in the future. They do, after all, bring all the young men to the front garden outside my domicile.”
Terrible analogies aside, one of the reasons that religions irritate me is this reliance on a higher power. I know how to behave, and when I make a decision I want to know it’s because of what I did, not because someone else let it happen for me. I don’t need a god, or anyone else for that matter, to tell me what is right and what is wrong. If you want to use a god, that’s fine, but don’t suggest that those of us who don’t use a god are somehow morally bankrupt.
So there you go. From roofing to Jesus in 5 paragraphs.
*Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
It’s Me… Maven:
“Hypothetically speaking… If one were to shave their taint and then get a tattoo of buddha, Jesus and Mohammed in flagrante with Mother Theresa, would that be a sin? What if they were caricatures instead?”
I’m not sure what a shaved taint has to do with it (did Tina Turner write that song?) unless of course the tattoo was being applied to the aforementioned area of hairlessness. In any case, it would be a sin if you were Jewish, I guess, because I know they’ve got some rules about tattoos and piercings, but really I don’t think an atheist is the best person to ask about what does and does not constitute sin.
Alan:
“Ok, since you insisted, here’s my necro question:
Could you please list all the permutations of necrophilia? I feel I’ve forgotten some.”
You are an idiot. Also, the many permutations of necrophilia include necro-bestiality, necro-incestuality, necro-erotica, and pretty much any and all sexual contact with real or pretend dead people or animals.
johnny dollar
“i have a ‘90 subaru legacy w/ +200k miles on it. once the car has warmed up after an hour’s drive, when i come to an intersection to stop, the car will shut off. it starts up right away and keeps running until the next time i stop, and then it dies again…any ideas about what might be the problem?
thanks!
oh wait… is this not car talk?”
As far as your first question, I’d advise you to lubricate the reverse reticulator valve while disengaging the Johnson coupler on the flange capacitor. This might be a euphamism.
As for your second question, yes, this is Car Talk. See the answer to your first question for proof.
Poppy
“Are you gonna eat my brains in July or what?! Cuz I’m not coming to MD if my brains won’t be ett.
My real question: If you had to choose between eggnog and all other alcoholic beverages which would you choose and why?”
No, I will not eat your brains. Brains are gross. I will eat your kidneys.
This is a good question, but after a few seconds of thought I realized that there is a beverage that I love more than eggnog: beer. There’s no way I could blog about beer though, because I’d never get anything else done, I love it that much. I’d much rather never have eggnog again than never have beer again.
miss kendra
“i have gone over it 892573459 times, and yet my checkbook is still off by $10. why?
will my ankle/foot ever function properly again? because i have lots of pretty heels i’d like to wear.
what is the reason for the season?”
1) Either your bank is sloppy, or they reserve $10 as a minimum amount to have in your account. Stop using banks, start burying your money in the sand at low tide.
2) Yes, because no one should be forced to live without being able to wear a pair of leopard print kitten heels.
3) Beer. See Poppy’s question.
That other Lori
“Why do you hate America, ACW?”
The reasons are almost to numerous to count:
The foreigners
The citizens
The old
The young
Minorities
The majority
Republicans
Democrats
Walmart
Jesus
Et ceteraBut really, the number one thing that makes me hate America are all the freedoms. I particularly hate the first amendment. What? Blog?
That’s all for now. Tune in next time as the questions devolve into cartoons I was watching as a kid.
