I think, if one wants to make an argument for the existence of a god, one would have to argue that this god has a sense of humor. And not just a sense of humor, but a cruel streak to fuel it with irony and sarcasm.
Let's have a look at human beings, for instance. I find us insanely funny. A world filled with situation comedies. All by formula, endless variation on a few worn down themes.
When I look to the future through the 360 degrees of possibilities for my life, I can see countless ways in which my life is enriched by that which is before me. I can also see the things which I have tried before and found lacking.
What do I do? In the midst of all the new things I do, there are a small number I do over and over and over and over. What makes this rather cruel, is that they are are painful and unwanted. Yet, even as I tell myself I am not interested I move in that direction.
There is nothing quit so irresistible as that wintertime pump handle. I know what happens every single time I put my tongue to that icy iron. And yet, I think, this time, it will be different. This time, it will be what I want. This time.
What makes it even worse is that I don't really want to put my tongue on the damn pump handle. I don't want the pump at all.
I'm finding myself slowing down across my life right now. Cynicism and resignation are looming on the horizon in all directions. Why? Because I'm in my underwear in the frozen yard staring at a fucking pump handle with my tongue sticking out.
Even if there is a god, I am quite sure I am not interested in giving respect to such a being and I certainly have no intention of worshiping it.
Let's have a look at human beings, for instance. I find us insanely funny. A world filled with situation comedies. All by formula, endless variation on a few worn down themes.
When I look to the future through the 360 degrees of possibilities for my life, I can see countless ways in which my life is enriched by that which is before me. I can also see the things which I have tried before and found lacking.
What do I do? In the midst of all the new things I do, there are a small number I do over and over and over and over. What makes this rather cruel, is that they are are painful and unwanted. Yet, even as I tell myself I am not interested I move in that direction.
There is nothing quit so irresistible as that wintertime pump handle. I know what happens every single time I put my tongue to that icy iron. And yet, I think, this time, it will be different. This time, it will be what I want. This time.
What makes it even worse is that I don't really want to put my tongue on the damn pump handle. I don't want the pump at all.
I'm finding myself slowing down across my life right now. Cynicism and resignation are looming on the horizon in all directions. Why? Because I'm in my underwear in the frozen yard staring at a fucking pump handle with my tongue sticking out.
Even if there is a god, I am quite sure I am not interested in giving respect to such a being and I certainly have no intention of worshiping it.
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First he said "Do what I say or be cursed."
Then he sent his son to say "Worship me or rot in purgatory."
Some choice!
I'll take door number 'B' please.
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Lynn, you didn't mention it, so if you'll forgive me... pics are up, and this one roxxorz: http://www.crazedimaginations.net/gallery/04-16-04/m_04-16-04/IMG_0110.JPG
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Another view