Archive for December 2009

God time

25 Dec 2009

Hey, so depending on where you are in the world it’s Christmas right now. As most of you already know, things can get pretty religious “up in this Tinspeaker bitch,” so if you’re uncomfortable with heavy Bible lifting, maybe you should just go back to one of my more heathen posts.

Let’s check up on Deuteronomy 23.

1He that is wounded in the stones, or hath his privy member cut off, shall not enter into the congregation of the LORD.”
Sorry, Lance.

2A bastard shall not enter into the congregation of the LORD; even to his tenth generation shall he not enter into the congregation of the LORD.”
A heaven without Eva Perón? No, thanks.

3An Ammonite or Moabite shall not enter into the congregation of the LORD; even to their tenth generation shall they not enter into the congregation of the LORD for ever.”
This is more like it. Ammonites certainly have no place in the kingdom of heaven. And, yeah, anyone who names himself after a bomb probably doesn’t belong at the right hand of God.

20Unto a stranger thou mayest lend upon usury; but unto thy brother thou shalt not lend upon usury: that the LORD thy God may bless thee in all that thou settest thine hand to in the land whither thou goest to possess it.”
Are you kidding me, Pope Clement V? Don’t ban usury outright, just ban it against your own brother. Too late now. The Jews already control all the money.

24When thou comest into thy neighbour’s vineyard, then thou mayest eat grapes thy fill at thine own pleasure; but thou shalt not put any in thy vessel.”
Speaking of Rothschilds! I’m about to get at some Château Lafite Rothschild grapes HARD BODY. For free. Mmm mmm.

25When thou comest into the standing corn of thy neighbour, then thou mayest pluck the ears with thine hand; but thou shalt not move a sickle unto thy neighbour’s standing corn.”
I’ve plucked mad ears in my day. Thanks, Deuteronomy 23:25 for giving me something to wave in stupid Farmer Hitchenweather’s face when he comes out waving the shotgun like a madman (not the good kind). Sorry, Hitchenweather. God’s orders.

Though this is a Christmas special, maybe we’ll check out some more bible chapters sometime in the future. God knows I’ve got nothing else to do these days.

You and me

15 Dec 2009

Let’s discuss this, now. You’ve been hurting these past months. While I’ve been gallivanting about Europe and Africa, spending and making money, breaking and mending hearts, purchasing and consuming foodstuffs, you’ve been at home, shivering under a blanket you stole from Southwest Airlines the one time you ever flew in an airplane. The blanket doesn’t even cover your feet, so you have to wear your socks to bed — your holey, ratty socks. And by “to bed” I mean “as you lie curled up on the floor like a mangled Slinky” (even though you’re curled up, the blanket still doesn’t cover your feet — that’s awful).

I was surprised to see that my hits have actually gone up, but then I realized the pattern — your anxiety has grown to the point where you now do nothing but refresh all day, mindless, automatic, subhuman. You’ve been reduced to the status of automaton, and for that I am sorry. Do know that my advertising revenue has increased dramatically, and for that I am grateful (this is actually false; I don’t even know how to put up Google ads on the site).

So what now? Does this post signal the return of the king? We’ll see. In the meantime, as always, the back catalogue remains open for business. Get at it.

Bet you though that link was going to be Lord of the Rings, didn’t you? Idiot.