Typos and Morons and Freaks. Oh My!

Snow and Shrinking Roads

We're getting snow here today, and while reading the forecast I came across this:

THE SNOW IS STICKING TO THE GROUND...AND MOTORISTS SHOULD USE EXTRA CAUTION AS ROADS BECOME SLIGHT AND HAZARDOUS.

Arkansas is a dangerous place to live when it's snowing. The roads just start shriveling away to nothing.

Please Continue to Hold

Last night I couldn't connect to the Internet here at the house, so I called our service provider. After pushing around 412 numbers, I finally got to the menu where it stated, "If you are unable to connect to your broadband Internet, please push 2." So I did. Then I received this message, "For troubleshooting tips, you may go to our website at..." Really? I can just go to your website and fix my non-existent Internet connection myself? Like, ohmigod. Why didn't I like totally think of that myself? Oh, that's right. BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE A FUCKING INTERNET CONNECTION, AND WITHOUT IT, IT'S REALLY HARD TO GET TO YOUR WEBSITE.

I Can't Believe He Doesn't Live in Arkansas

Sam Sanfillipo owns a funeral home in Madison, WI. So what Babs? What's so great about that? You are aware that people do really die in Madison, aren't you? Well, just hang on to your knickers and I'll tell you so what. This isn't your average funeral home. No siree, Bob. This one has dead squirrels. Dead squirrels that are posed in all manner of frivolity. There is a dead squirrel saloon, a dead squirrel fair and even a dead squirrel "Topless Girlie Show".

What would possess someone to do this? Well, Sam explained that it was for the bereaving children who come to funerals and are crying. I'm sorry your Grammy died, Timmy, but lookie here - Dead squirrels riding a ferris wheel! And those over there? Those are girl squirrels and they're missing their shirts. *Nudge. Nudge. Wink. Wink.* "Doesn't that make you forget all about the fact that you'll never see your Grams again? I have to agree, Sam. Nothing will take a kid's mind off death quite like showing them even more death. Especially when the death consists of burlesque rodents dressed in freakish attire posing on carnival rides.

Can you imagine what it would be like for some poor child who not only just had his Grandma die, but also his beloved pet squirrel, Skippy? I'll bet he'd need therapy or something.

Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who is going to be snowed in tomorrow. Yay!

Homo No Mo'

The other day while reading I'm Just Sayin', Krup had a post about dangerous gay bands that are listed at Love God's Way. You should have a look see at the band list for yourself. It's some funny shit.

Love God's Way is hosted by Donnie Davies who is a self-proclaimed "reformed homosexual". Donnie is doing his best to let everyone know that "God hates a Fag". Unless you read the part of his website where he states that his god doesn't really hate the homosexual, he just hates the winkie in another man's bumhole thing. So who knows?

Donnie has started a new program for any of you who may have unwanted feelings for the same sex- especially those who have been acting on those feelings. He's cleverly named his program C.H.O.P.S which is an acronym for: Changing Homosexuals into Ordinary People S

Yo, dude. You forgot a word for the S. I'm thinking you should go with Sucka. Changing Homosexuals into Ordinary People, Sucka. Doesn't that have a nice ring? I thought so, too. He also has a brilliant tagline for his C.H.O.P.S program. "Follow me and together we'll C.H.O.P.S away the Gay." Oh! You must cease these shenanigans. You're killing me.

Donald the Reformed also wilde-ly claims "Oscar Wilde, my hero, was a reformed homosexual. He went to prison for his sins. Once he was alone with his thouhgts [sic], in jail, he saw the errors of his ways and repented".

I'll bet he found Jesus in a urine stain on his cell wall. Oddly enough, after Oscar was released from prison, the first place he went was to see his male lover. Oopsie. I guess the reformation didn't last very long.

He further states, "While I'm not advocating jailing all Homosexuals, I do think it would benefit them greatly".

I agree. Prison is the perfect place for homosexual reformation. After all, in prison there's absolutely no butt-fucking nor girl-on-girl action allowed.

Donnie, I'm sincerely sorry that when you came out of the closet you were faced with ridicule and shame. I'm sorry that you had to tuck tail and hide behind religion because you couldn't handle this ridicule. But what's even more pathetic is that you've now become one of the persecutors who caused you to deny your true self.

While you're spouting your venom, a part of you will be withering. Later in life, you'll realize this and you'll be sorry. Sorry for not getting to be the person you really are. Sorry for all the truly great love you could have found in another man's arms. One whose name isn't Jesus. Unless you dig the Latinos. That would be perfectly acceptable.

Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who just can't get over "we'll C.H.O.P.S away the gay".

New Reads and Crap You Really Don't Care About

Newness

I've added 3 new blogs to the Daily Bread. Diana over at Americans in Singapore, sent me this fantastic Bizarro cartoon. Tee hee. While perusing her blog list, I came across Geeky Dragon Girl at I Live Under a Rock and Krup at I'm Just Sayin'. They are now part of my daily blog reads. I recommend the same for you.

So Much it Hurt

Thomas and I went to see Brian Regan last night. When we first entered, we were accosted by a man with a t-shirt, a pen and a devilish gleam in his eye. He proceeded to ask us if we wanted to sign the t-shirt they were going to give Brian after the show. Huh? Did he not bring an extra shirt with him? Anyway, Brian Regan is going be the proud owner of a shirt with my signature on it, and Thomas' and my sister-in-law's, and my brother-in-law's and a bunch of other people he doesn't know. I'm sure he'll cherish it forever.

If you want to laugh so much you'll risk rupturing your spleen, I'd suggest going to see this funnyman should he be in your area.

Talkin' 'Bout the Car Wash, Girl

I got stuck in a car wash today. Well, my car and I got stuck. I was sitting there happily immersed in a mystical wonderland of bubbles, foam and splashing water, but after the final rinse, no green arrow. The plastic hangy down thingies didn't move. So I waited. Then I waited some more. Then, just when panic was starting to ensue, the very nice and very old attendant came up to my car and told me she was going to have to fix it. (the car wash, not my car) This made me very, very nervous, and caused me to have visions of the entire car wash falling on us, leaving us under a pile of mechanical arms and spray nozzle rubble. But after pointing to the various parts of the car wash (as though she possessed magical powers and could fix them with her index finger), and trying to move the plastic hangy down thingies by hand, she finally went in and pushed some buttons and I was free.

I have no idea why I just shared that with you. I guess because until today, I was a stuck-in-the-car wash virgin.

Take Care,
The Bablatrice- who just wrote a lot of nothing.

Those Christians Be Crazy

Riddle Me This

What is blasphemous, fucking funny and rhymes?

Fwig's poem that he wrote and dedicated to me! Yeah. He dedicated it to me, and that's just pretty damn awesome. It's titled, Smashing on the Dash , and it is seriously brilliant. Go. Go read it now. I laughed so hard my toenails fell off.

Fwig, you have to get this published somewhere. I think you should submit it to Christianity Today. I'm sure they would positively scramble to fit it into their next issue.

Syrup and Smut

The lovely Carla (and she is lovely, have a look at her blog and you'll see) pointed me to this website.



Well, slap my ass and call me Aunt Jemima! For a mere 8 beans, you can go listen to someone preach on the evils of the dirty, dirty porn industry while you're snarfing down hot stacks. Mmmmm...sticky syrupy goodness and fornication. Even though the name, cheesy paper plate, plastic fork and syrup script make it look like a satire site, I swear on all things holy that it's not. Did you see that? I just swore on holy things. I kill me.

God Digs 4/4 Time

Valley Bible Church in Lancaster, CA has released a music CD, Redeeming the Rhyme. It is a compilation of popular songs that they've re-written to make them fit for Jesus. Here is possibly the best of the bunch. It's a re-write of Barbara Ann, titled Bible Man and with scintillating lyrics like this, how could it not be a winner?

It’s got me walkin’ and a growin’
Walkin’ and a healin’
Bible Man
Bi-bi-bi-Bible man

Suck it up, Beach Boys, you just got spanked by a church group.

This is Major Tom to Ground Control

Arthur Blessit is a man. A man on a mission. The mission is from god. He's been trudging all across this fine earth of ours toting a 12-foot cross. Artie's even made it into the Guinness Book of Records for the 'world's longest walk'. And as the website specifies: On Foot! But I'd be more impressed if it was On Scrotum! Anyway, a smaller cross has been carved out of the cross he's been lugging around, and this spring it's going to be launched into space. We're going to have a cross orbiting the earth, people! And it's about time, too. The space-bound cross is 2 inches tall, and...

Wait a minute, that can't be right.

Oh. It is. 2 inches tall and one-half of an inch wide.

We probably won't be able to see it with the naked eye then, will we?

Not only is there going to be a cross the size of a stick of gum, but also a miniature bible on microform, along with these stickers. Have you been turned on to Jesus?

So, I guess this means that the Christians are doing their best to convert any visitors from other galaxies we might have. Well, good luck with that, Jesus people.

The website also explains how these objects will orbit our earth, and then states:

This means that in time the cross will pass over 'the entire' earth! Every inch of it! I leave it to you to ponder the Prophetic and Biblical significance of this!

I'm going to stop here and let you ponder the Prophetic and Biblical significance of this, because I've pondered it and the only thing I can come up with is that Dude! Really! Likes! Exclamation! Points! Which makes him sound a lot like Captain Kirk in my head. Not that Captain Kirk is in my head, just that I can hear Captain Kirk in my head. I mean, I'm not having auditory Kirk hallucinations...meh...forget it.

Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who would find it quite amusing if the cross managed to take out the Trinity Broadcasting Network's satellite.

Bible World Land, Phase II

I'm sure you all have been dying for me to complete Phase II of Bible World Land. Well, unplug that life support, kids, because here it is. For those of you who don't know, Bible World Land is my vision of a Christian amusement park. You can read about Phase I of the park here.

New Testament Rides

The Guilt-a-Whirl - When you board this centrifugal bad boy you'll tell us your most heinous sins. Then while you're spinning round and round we'll announce those sins over a loudspeaker. Everyone is encouraged to laugh and jeer and make everyone else feel like a total loser. Ah yes, feel the shame and nausea. Don't you feel like a worthless sinner, you little smear of dog poo on the bottom of a two-dollar flip-flop? If you don't, you get to ride again! That's right. If you're not puking up your pancreas and crying like a little girl by the time the ride is finished, you have to keep riding until you are.

The Chamber of Horrors - Step through the door and be greeted by our favorite fundies, Jerry Falwell, James Dobson, and Pat Robertson. Listen to them shout about the evils of this world such as: dancing, low-rise jeans, O'Doul's, hoop earrings and how Disney is brainwashing our children while Harry Potter introduces them to the dark, sultry seduction of Satan. For a finale, they'll sing "I Once Was on the Hell-Bound Train, 'Til Jesus Punched My Ticket" in three-part harmony. Dee-vine!

The Crucifixion Challenge - Well, basically we nail you to a cross. But there are prizes! For each stage of the crucifixion you can endure without screaming, you get a prize.

• Crown of thorns = "Jesus loves me the most" keyring
• Lashes on the back = Virgin Mary pin-up poster
• Nails in hands = 19-inch, simulated alabaster, rhinestone-encrusted, light-up cross.
• Nails in feet = Extra-large Jesus plushie and an "I got nailed at Bible World Land" t-shirt
• Spear in the side = Jesus clock radio, The 12 Disciples Fondue-Fun Kit and a free faith-healing by Benny Hinn. We're keeping our fingers crossed that this one actually works!

The Rapture-o-rama- Step inside our anti-gravity machine and hold onto your bibles. As soon as the trumpet sounds, we turn off the gravity and turn on the rapture funk. It's so realistic, you'll be pissing yourself with heaven-bound joy. Be sure and look out the glass walls so you can point and smirk at our imported non-believers who are getting their reprobate asses left behind. Go heavy on the piousness to ensure you're getting the full experience of this ride. As we at Bible World Land like to say, "If you don't feel superior, you're not really saved."

New Testament Attractions

The Leper Hut - Observe the members of our leper colony as they candidly interact and lose chunks of flesh. They'll frolic and play while leaving a colorful trail of muscle and sinew. Even though you'll be tempted to pet them, don't or you might find yourself minus a digit or two.

The Judas Iscariot Kissing Booth - Want to know what it's like to get the kiss of death? Then pucker up to the black sheep of the New Testament. For only 30 pieces of silver, you can taste the lips of the most horrendous man to ever live. We only ask that you please refrain from using any tongue, as that will lead to immoral acts. Namely, free-thinking.

Exorcism Alley - Chortle and guffaw at the hilarious antics of our exorcists as they extract demons from possessed miscreants right before your very eyes. Their slap-stick schtick will leave you and our demon-host gasping for air. Watch out for that projectile vomit! As a bonus, if you have any possessed friends or relatives bring them along, and we'll rid them of their pesky demons, too. Please note that all exorcists are trained professionals. Do not attempt this at home on your little brother. No matter how tempting it may be.

The Virgin Birth Reenacted - Experience the miracle of birth as the Virgin Mary squirts out the baby Jesus. Hear her screams of pure joy as the sacred head starts to emerge. Relish in the melodious, first cries of our infant Lord. Just try not to lose your lunch when Mary eats the placenta. That's right, if it hadn't been for the placenta-eating, Jesus wouldn't have been the true Messiah. I'll bet you didn't know that, did you?

New Testament Food Court

Luke's Fish Fritters
Matthew's Fish and Chips
John's Sushi Bar
Mark's Fish on a Stick
Loaves and Fishes Buffet
Oh Look! More Fish
Peter's Pickled Peppers...and Fish
We Loves Us Some Fish

We hope you've enjoyed your time at Bible World Land. Remember, kiddies, if you don't accept Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior, you'll burn for all eternity in hell. And all the while you're in horrific, flesh-burning torment, you'll be thinking how we pompous fuckmonkeys are romping around up in heaven, carefree and with nary a scorch. Can I get an amen?

Take Care,
The Bablatrice

Muscled Up Advice

Jesus Wants to Pump You Up!

Thomas brought me this picture he took today. I was speechless. How does Christ equate to freakishly muscled bodies?

And here's a closer look at that logo.

Holy pull-ups on a cross! Jesus is ripped! I think if J Dawg really had looked like this, he could have seriously kicked some Roman ass. But look closely at Jesus' knees. Are those the blessed balls drooping down from underneath his dress?

Dear Babs is Here!

Dear Babs,
I am a bit troubled. I believe my son has a girlfriend, because she left a dirty magazine with men in it under his bed. My son is only 16 and I really don't think he's ready to date yet. What's worse is that he's sneaking some girl to his room behind my back. I need help, I want my son to stop being so secretive! - Nancy

Naïve Nancy,
Bless you and your little delusional heart. Are you sitting down? Please, make sure you’re sitting down before reading this. First of all. Your son does not have a girlfriend. There is no strumpet leaving man porn in your son’s bedroom, as much as you might like that to be the case. Your son likes to tickle the pickle while feasting his eyes on young, supple, hard-bodied men who are fornicating with each other. Some of these virile men are possibly even oiled down, which will show their hard, rippling muscles in greater detail. Oh my. Is it warm in here? Could somebody please open the window? I’m sorry, Nancy. I’ve got to take a little break.
Good luck and God bless!
Babs

Dear Babs,
Could you settle an argument between me and my husband? We’ve been married only four months. I get out of the shower and dry off, or walk into the bedroom to dry off. He says I should dry off in the shower. Who is correct? – Maggie

Mixed-up Maggie,
This is why it’s so important to really communicate before you say “I do”. 79% of divorces occur because of post-shower drying arguments. I would suggest you and your husband find a marriage counselor. I think hearing that you both are total fuckwits would be more appropriate coming from a therapist than from me.
Have fun in divorce court!
Babs

Dear Babs,
Ever since my boss learned we live close to each other (about 15 minutes between us), he has asked me for a ride home every day. The ride is about 45 minutes. How do I tell him "no" without getting fired? Help! - Fran

Frantic Fran,
There’s not really any good way for you to tell your boss, "no". I would suggest that the next time you’re giving him a ride home, when the car is in motion (preferably on the freeway), reach over and open his door and give him a gentle push out of it. When he’s skidding down the road at 60 miles an hour developing very unpleasant road rash, he’ll be sure and get your subtle hint. Things may be uncomfortable around the water cooler for the next year or so, but you’ll be able to glory in the knowledge that his smelly ass won’t be in your passenger seat anymore.
Love and Kisses,
Babs

Dear Babs,
What are the rules of etiquette for hand-shaking between men and women? Is it proper when a woman extends her hand to a man for him to offer his left hand to shake? Or is this some backhanded insult?
I am involved in receiving lines and have had this happen many times. They always offer their right hand to the next man in line. Should I take this as an insult, or do these men just not know how to act properly? - Debbie

Drama Queen Debs,
You should definitely take this as an insult. When a man extends his left hand in greeting to you, it means that he is imagining you mother-naked and wants to videotape you copulating with a feral boar. He might as well be humping your leg. Next time any man offers his left hand, give him a hearty knee to the groin. This will let the misogynistic bastard know that you’re onto his little game and that you’ll have no part in it.
Happy Bitching,
Babs

Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who is totally stoned on sinus medication.

Saddle up For Jesus, Ya'll

Head 'Em Up, Move 'Em Out

I really don't know how I find these things, but I do.

There is a church in Henderson, TX and it is the Circle C Cowboy Church. You're just dying to know what a cowboy church is, aren't you, pardner? According to their pastor, Bronco Billy the Baptist Dynamo, it's a church for horse people who don't want to dress up. That's right! Cowpokes who just can't rustle up the gumption to put on their Sunday best. Aw shucks! You can even go in your overalls, should you own any. Which I don't, nor will I ever.

Do you think they use pork rinds and campfire coffee for their communion? Rodeo clowns as ushers? Bucking pews? Cowboy hats as offering plates? A fiddler instead of an organist? Sinner roping contests? Have Jesus lassoed to the cross sporting a crown of barbed wire?

Make sure you check out the photos, especially the one of the pulpit. It's crafted out of the finest, hand-forged horseshoes this side of the Mississippi. What else would a pulpit be made from at a horse church? There's also an article that tells all about this past Sunday's service which included that snappy tune we all adore, "Jesus Put a Yodel in My Soul."

You really did just read that right, and I am so not making it up. Has Jesus put a yodel in your soul? I thought he put one in mine once, but it was just some bad cashew chicken I'd eaten the night before.

All I can say is, "More cowbell for Christ!"

Coming Soon

Fwig the Magnificent (that's his stage name) has given me an idea for a new Flumadiddle feature. In fact, he demanded that I start an advice column. So, I'm going to steal gather real questions from answer-needy people all across this fine land of the internet, and then give my advice. 'Cause that's how an advice column works.

So I guess I'll shut up now and get started on that.

One more thing- I've somehow managed to wear off the "n" on my keyboard at the office and here at home. Do I really type "n" more than other letters, or do I just have some strange habit of unconsciously rubbing the "n" key? And is that Freudian in any possible way?

Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who can't stop yodeling.

Desperately Seeking...

Are you ready for another Flumadiddle special feature? Of course you are. I'm going to start sharing what our fellow humans are searching for on this great, big, lovely Internet. I'll have what people searched for and then I'll give my answer. You know, like I was the search engine.

Jesus, could I make it sound any dumber?

So, I'm just going to stop this now and get on with it.

Seek and Ye Shall Find

Directions to a certain destination - Get in your car. Drive a lot. Turn left.
Best Place for Winter Sun - Surprisingly enough, the face of the sun. Mercury would run a close second.
Find dentist - Now sit. Stay. Roll over. Play dead. Now bring dentist to me. Good boy.
Kissing techniques - You're 12, aren't you?
What would a Victorian prostitute wear - You sill wouldn't get a date, Condi.
Grow your eyelashes - First you have to gather the dung of a Venetian wood otter. Dry out the dung in a solar oven you hand crafted out of drill bits. Crush the dung into a fine powder with a fossilized dinosaur penis. Mix with 2 teaspoons of holy water that you pilfered from the Vatican. Apply daily and in 12 short weeks you'll have 18 inch eyelashes.
Totally free car - Unless you count prison time as a "cost", stealing one is always an option.
How do I get quick money - Dress like a Victorian prostitute.
How big is China - Fucking huge.
Free tips on how to last longer during sex - Well, my brother-in-law swears that saying "Scooter Libby" over and over does the trick for him. You probably want to make sure you don't do this out loud, unless you're having sex with Scooter Libby. In fact, having sex with Scooter Libby would probably work as a deterrent, too.
The secret - I'd tell you, but I can't. It's a secret. Tee hee.
I want to compare prices - Butter costs less than a sailboat.
Give me a list of hobbies - Not until you ask nicely, asshat.
Butt pimple - That's not a butt pimple. That is the mark of Satan which you developed by masturbating while watching reruns of The A-Team. And you're going to die from it. I hope your "bopping the bologna" sessions were worth it, you sicko. Just kidding. It's a pimple. On your butt.
Vasactomy - Well, you missed the spelling, but damn if it doesn't make a lot of sense.
Alchol withdraw - Yeah. Maybe you should just wait until you're sober. Then you'll find out all about it.
Test - Sorry. You failed. You should study harder next time.
Banana peel gas - If you're eating banana peels, gas is probably the least of your worries.
ZZ Top Jesus - I know the beard makes the Big J look like he was a member of ZZ Top, but that's just a rumor.
Goofy mechanic - Well, aren't they all?
What happened when my dog froze to death - First he got cold. Then he got colder. Then he got really, really cold. Then he died.
What is a search engine? - You're joking, right? You're not. Well, you're a moron.
Gods purpose for my life - Get 253 tattoos of lobster traps. Yes. Lobster traps. Do not question me, I am the God of Abraham and will smite you if you don't obey. Quit bathing. Have every third tooth extracted. Sacrifice a marmot on the second Thursday of every month. Only eat the meat of a virgin 3-toed sloth. Bark at the mailman. Smell the elbows of people you meet on the street and never wear anything other than purple socks and a wetsuit.

Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who probably needs more sleep.

Three Cheers for Jesus!

Two Pennies for Two Thoughts

Thought #1 - Wouldn't it be cool if we could flip people the bird with our middle toes? I've tried. I can't do it.

Thought #2 - What do you think it would be like if the story about Jesus had him being killed by stoning instead of by crucifixion? Would churches have gigantic boulders on their front lawns? Instead of crucifixes, would people wear pendants made up of a bunch of tiny little pebbles with Jesus smashed under them? And, instead of making the sign of the cross, would you just do a haphazard circle thingy?

Yes, these are the kind of odd thoughts I have during the day. I'm pretty sure I'm weird.

Church Sign O' the Week

"Jesus loves you. Love him back."

Well, sweet ponytails and saddle oxfords! Church sign guy is posing as a cheerleader this week. I think I should help him out. After all, I was a cheerleader in high school at a Christian, god-fearing, King James Version only school. I'm fucking qualified.

Ready. Okay.
Jesus loves you. Love him back,
or you will have a heart attack.
Then you will die and you won't be
up in heaven with guys like me.
Lawdy, lawdy what's that smell?
It's your flesh on fire in hell.
You're roasting now - Don't like the heat?
You should have loved the Jesus meat.

Do you think church sign guy has pom poms?

Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who's come a long way since high school.

But We Can Stick Our Heads Out the Sun Roof!

On my way to work this morning, I saw a car-carrier with three stretch limousines on it. My first thought was, "Hey. I've never seen a limousine on a car-carrier, and now I'm seeing three. Interesting. Is car-carrier the proper terminology or is there a techinal term for trucks that carry cars on those rack thingies?"

My second thought was, "Oh! Looky who's beside me. It's Mr. Important and he's white-knuckling his steering wheel because he's pissed that he's late and we underlings have the audacity to drive on his own private highway. I think I'll sit here and smile and wave to him. That'll cheer him up. Oh. Oh my. Maybe not."

I then had a life-altering realization. It was damn close to an epiphany. All that was missing was the virgin, bright lights, midgets and a host of heavenly angels singing.

No wait. That's my recipe for freaky circus sex. Do you think I should throw in a dancing poodle who wears tap pants and a push-up bra?

Anyhooha, my life-altering realization was that I hate stretch limos. Detest them. They're tacky. Ugly. Pretentious. Faux riche. Alright, why do we have to italicize foreign words when first introduced into a piece of writing? Do the grammar rule people think we really won't know when words aren't written in our native language unless they're like this? By the way, did you know that even though Americans spell "italicize" and other -ize words with a "z" and the British use an "s", the "z" is really the old, old English spelling and the British changed it to "s", but then those fun-loving Pilgrims changed it back to "z" after they took that pleasure cruise on the Mayflower? That's the kind of thing I learn by listening to NPR. It's probably all a big, fat lie.

Did you also know that this is exactly the way I really carry on a conversation, and when I constantly interrupt my train of thought with useless drivel, it drives Thomas and his penis crazy? It drives him crazy because it takes me forever to get to the fucking point and it drives his penis crazy because he finds my rambling to be endearing. And I know that by endearing he means sexually arousing. (For those of you wondering why I just painfully interjected my husband's member into the conversation, you have to read the comment Fwig left on my previous post.)

Christ on a stick, what the hell was I talking about?

Oh yeah. Stretch limousines. Every time I see one, I think that the person lurking behind the tinted glass is some backhill inbred who just received the check from his insurance settlement and decided to wisely spend a portion of his fortune on a limousine rental. He will then head down to "Skeeter's Bar and Bait Shop" to show the boys his new-found wealth, and let them know he'll be "livin' high on the hog from now on, by god". Or at least until his windfall of 1500 bucks is frittered away. He will have somehow managed to mount a gun rack onto the grill of the limo, and will be using the Scotch decanter as a spit cup. All the while Sweet Home, Alabama will be threatening to utterly demolish the speakers and his highly intoxicated wife will be flashing her saggy boobies out of the sun roof.

Limousines are also too big. And I hate them.

Okay. Well, that was neither life-altering nor an epiphany after all, was it? But, should anyone want to impress me with a vehicle, this is one that would do it.

I just thought you should know.

Take Care,

The Bablatrice - who really did drag you through all that just so she could show you a picture of a pretty car. You are welcome.

Two for One Special

What's this? Two Flumadiddles in one day? Yes, but only because of late-breaking Jesus news. That's right.

That Jesus Sho' Gets Around

Sighting #1

Jesus doesn't just save us humans from eternal damnation and hellfire. No siree, Bob. The man-god of Christianity is now saving puppies. Two unruly dogs in California were saved from being kicked to the curb by their owners when none other than JC himself was spotted in the dirt on the doggie door. You can go here to see the video of the pooch-loving saviour. So, Jesus, why the long face and what is up with the profuse eyelashes you've got going on your left eye? Are you trying out your "emo, yet flirty" look, 'cause if so, it's so not working for you.

Sighting #2

Do you ever get the feeling that someone is watching you in the shower? Well, guess what? It could be Jesus! Nick Polgardi found Jesus graffiti on the tile of his shower. And, we all know that when Jesus graffiti is found, the lord can't be far behind. Here see for yourself. Okay, so it could spell Jessie, or Jessica. Maybe even Jesuit, but it's close enough to Jesus for me. The only thing that's missing is the "wuz here".

Take Care,
Babs

All Their Dogs Don't Bark

If I Only Had a Brain

Jack Whitaker won the $315 million powerball lottery in December of 2002. He opted for the $113 million post-tax settlement and now he is completely broke. Let me recap that for you.

4 years ago = multimillionaire. Today = buh-roke.

Doesn't that qualify as a miracle or something? Jack, thou wizard of the financial world, do you know that your spending averages over 28 million dollars a year? That's over seventy-six thousand dollars a day! Jackie, Jackie, Jackie. Karma smiled lovingly down at you. She stroked your hair lightly with her slender fingers of pure serendipitous magic and whispered, "Jack Whitaker, I, in my finicky goodness, am going to bestow upon you a fuckload of money." Do you know what karma gives me, Jackie? The bathroom stall with no toilet paper. Damn near every time.

I know you're claiming that a "team of crooks" cashed checks on your bank account and swiped all your money. But, dude. You were bouncing checks to casinos. Why do I get the feeling that your "team of crooks" were all dealers at the blackjack table. I just want you to know that you have successfully kicked karma right in the crotch, and one thing that even you could win a bet on is that she's probably pretty damn pissed about now. Way to go, Wonderboy.

Hamburglars

While we Americans are worried about silly things like health care, education, the environment and the fact that a 1st grader could kick our president's ass in a spelling bee, at least one of our stellar, elected officials is concerning herself about one very important issue: hamburgers. And when you think about it, what could be more important to the welfare of our nation than ground beef on a bun? Republican Representative Betty Brown of Athens, TX has proposed a resolution that would declare Athens to be the original home of the hamburger.

Betty is facing fierce, beefblood-thirsty opposition from some folks in New Haven, CT who are asserting that they are the true owners of the, "The Hamburger Originated Here, Dammit" title. Even the New Haven mayor is chiming in with a hearty, quarter-pound vote. So, America, when you're worried that our fine country is going to hell faster than a bus-load of gay, pro-choice atheists, just remember Betty and her stoic fight for the hamburger. If that doesn't soothe your troubled brow, I don't know what will.

Other Kooky Politicians

After hearing that James Dobson wanted to break up with him due to a difference of opinion on "traditional marriage", Senator John McCain announced that he wanted to kiss and make up. The Senator then sent his Most Reverend Fundamentalist Nutjob a " Do you like me? Check yes or no." note. Rumor has it that Fundy Dobson stated, "It's not really the Senator's views on marriage that I find disturbing. It's his pasty white skin."

And finally, Condi Condi bo Bondi Rice showed pure genius when in reply to the question of whether sending 22,000 more troops to Iraq was an escalation, uttered the phrase, "Uh. Uh. Er. No Senator. Uh. I would call it uh, senator, an augmentation". Beautiful poetry that makes total sense. The war in Iraq is getting bodacious ta tas. Condi then subsequently had her uterus bitch slapped by Senator Barbara Boxer. I love me a good chick fight.

Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who begs your forgiveness for the rantiness of this post, but sometimes is just frustrated by the sheer stupidity of some people.

Extra Large Load of Sin.

Ice, Ice Baby

Well, now that I've hopefully got that imbecilic song stuck in your head, I'll tell you the reason for such torture. There's a possibility we may get iced in. I don't think it's a very big possibility, though. I think we're too far east.

I can't tell you how many times in my life being too far east has caused me to miss out on excitement.

The bad news about receiving ice is that we could lose our power. The good news is one of our neighbors has chicken houses...Oh god, did I just say it was good news that we lived next to chicken houses? Fuck me.

Anyway, the reason that it's good news in this case is because if we do lose power, the chicken farmer calls the electric company every 10 minutes until the power is back on. He likes to say that he's going to call them every time one of his chickens die. Now, if I thought he was saying this in jest, I'd laugh along with him. But I know he's being serious when he says this and he's probably pissed off and drunk, so I'll just laugh at him instead. From a safe distance. 'Cause I'm a chicken.

Get it? I'm a chicken - he's a chicken farmer. Oh. I really crack myself up.

That Jesus Sho' Gets Around

He's done it again. This time the soul-saver has been located on the laundry room floor owned by none other than Doris Wells of Wild Peach, TX. And JC's all saucy in this appearance and not wearing anything other than a loin cloth and a beard. Yeah. It's one of those images. Doris' pastor, C.E Borsarge, had this to say about the miracle. "I see it as a sign from God. Christ is no longer on the cross, but maybe it is a reminder to open up some people’s eyes."

Well, duh! Of course he's not on the cross anymore. He's on the floor next to Doris' Maytag front-load washer with the extra large tub.

I guess now we all know how Jesus washes our sins away.

I regret to inform you that there wasn't a photo with this story. I am consumed with disappointment.

BIG FUCKING EDIT: I found a picture! Carla, your soul has been saved. Amen.

That's Jesus in a loincloth? That's what the article is about? Can anyone see Jesus in this picture? Wait a minute...I see something. Oh, nope. That's a bear. I can also make out something that vaguely resembles the Elephant Man, but no JC.

Sometimes I wish I were more delusional so I could have Jesus show up in random places in my house.

Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who's a chicken. A CHICKEN. Bahahahaha.

Y'uns Like Tax Time?

They Said What?

We use an answering service at the office and that means two things. I don't have to answer the phone and I get to make fun of the messages we receive. Sometimes the callers just leave odd messages and other times, the answering service just gets it wrong. This is a text message I received where they got it so very wrong. (Keep in mind that we're a landscape company and we do irrigation repairs)

[MSG]{Walter is leaking in the parking lot again.}

Oh, that Walter. We try to keep him contained, but he keeps chewing through the cage bars.

The Tax Man Cometh and, Man is He Crazy

At one of the tax preparation offices here, they have come up with a brilliant marketing plan. And by brilliant I mean kooky. They have a guy dressed as Uncle Sam standing on the street corner waving at cars. But he doesn't really look like Uncle Sam. He looks more like a ringmaster at the circus. Albeit, a very frumpy ringmaster. And he stands there all day waving. I wonder if he practices his wave in front of the mirror at home. No. NO. NO. That's not right. Quit twiddling your fingers around so much. You're never going to get this right. Okay, 3 waves with the left hand, then 2 with the right. Fingers together, but relaxed. Elbows tucked. Now try it again. You can do this. Oh god! You're such a moron. Do you want to get out there and look like a total doink in your Uncle Sam circus outfit? It's waving, for christ's sake. How can you fuck up waving?

Is this marketing ploy really supposed to work, tax preparation people? Do you really think we will begin to look at tax-time as a celebratory time of year that is reminiscent of childhoods spent at the circus? Is Uncle Sam the Ringmaster supposed to bring people into your office in droves, begging you to prepare their taxes? Because it has the opposite effect on me.

I have this vision that if I were to walk into your office Entrance of the Gladiators would begin playing, and Zelda the All-Seeing Receptionist would know my name before I told her and would then inform me that she saw great riches in my future in the form of a check from the US Treasury. Boingo the Bouncing Clown would keep finding quarters behind my ear and would incessantly pull fake floral bouquets out of his sleeve. Fire breathers and sword swallowers would be working the room, and would be sporting low-cut, sequined, spandex shirts that showed their man-cleavage and chest zits. No, I don't want your complimentary popcorn, peanuts or cotton candy. And I really don't want my taxes done by the bearded fat lady, while Monkey Boy tap dances in the corner. Tax-time is supposed to be a horrible, depressing time of year. Don't take that away from me, you sick, sick bastards.

Y'uns Speak Arkansan?

In my last post I mentioned the word, "y'uns" which prompted the Most Holy Fwig to ask me if y'uns was a contraction of "you ones". I don't know the answer to this question. Does anyone know what the hell "y'uns" is supposed to be? Is it possibly a bastardized version of "young'uns", which is a contraction of "young ones"? No. That doesn't even make sense. "Young ones" should be "young'ens". So what is young'uns? Young buns? suns? puns? nuns? Sweet mother of god, I'm losing my mind.

I just live among these people, I obviously shouldn't attempt to decipher their language.

Take Care,

The Bablatrice - who has circus music in her head all the time.

I Would Walk 500 Miles

New at Flumadiddle

I've started receiving spam at work. Not the oh so delectable, gourmet, melts in your mouth, faux meat Spam that tastes like turds, but the oh so delectable unsolicited email spam that tastes like turds. This spam comes with random sentences put together in a paragraph. I think these non-sensical paragraphs are the spammers' way of bypassing filters. (Spam is maps backwards, by the way.) I find these ramblings fascinating. There's just something about them that draws me in. It's as though they hold the elusive truths of the universe and if you just look deep enough you'll know the answers to every question that's ever been asked. You will be one with everything. You will be the universe. I feel it is my duty to share the power of spam with you. It will be like a meditation or a mantra that opens doors to worlds unimagined by our limited, pre-spam minds. We'll start with our first one. Are you ready? Are you sure? Okay. Here we go.

Zen in the Art of Spamming (My profuse apologies to Ray Bradbury for this title)

"You got a hose, but the car you pick for the free donation has got a locking gas-cap."

Whoa. That is so way totally deep. It's telling us that as we walk through life, sometimes we're going to get royally fucked, so whenever we get free stuff we should lock it up.

Fun at the Office

We had a guy come in today to fill out an application. He approached my desk: "Are y'uns doin' any hirin'?" And it took him roughly 4 minutes to get that out.

I had to refrain from replying, "Well, bless your sweet, grit-eatin' heart. We sher 'nuff is hirin'. You just sit down over yonder a spell and fill out this here application and we'll see iffen we can't work us up a job fer ya. While yer doin' that, I'll just fix you up a mess of butter beans and cornbread and fatten you up a mite. You sher is skinny. You need some meat on them bones, 'cause you'd blow plumb clean away iffen a good wind were to hit yer backside. Do you take lemon in yer sweet tea, darlin'?"

Sometimes I scare myself when I channel my Aunt Jin who really wasn't my aunt, but was instead my father's first wife's mother's sister. Which made her zip to me. But that's exactly the way she talked.

Church Sign O' the Week

"Exercise daily - Walk with the Lord."

Church sign guy has a resolution for 2007. He's going to start walking with Jesus. That's right. Church sign guy and Jesus are going to be a walking team, and they've invited us to join them! Do you think Jesus walks in his tunic-robe-dress thingy or does he opt for something totally stylin' like this?

On a side note, what do you think Richard was thinking the exact moment this shot was taken? I'm thinking it has something to do with Mr. Bojangles and the boys damn near flopping out of his little, striped granny-panty shorts.

Anyway, back to exercising with Jesus. Hey! I just realized that you can exercise AND exorcise with Jesus. He's multi-purpose. I will agree to be on the Jesus walking team as long as J Dawg promises not to lug a cross around. Not only would it be embarrassing, but the whole martyr act is wearing thin, JC. Seriously dude. Time for papa to get a brand new bag.

Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who would walk 500 more.

My Country 'Tis of Thee

Off My Lazy Ass
Look - over to your right. Your other right. See it? I finally put up a link list of my daily reads. Do I get some kind of an award now?

Buy a Country
I guess you've all heard that Sealand, the world's smallest country, is for sale. Here's a little bit about Sealand:

During the 1939-45 War, Great Britain established an artificial island on the High Seas. This island was equipped with radar and heavy armaments and occupied by some two hundred servicemen. In the winter of 1966, a British family took possession and commenced the task of equipping and restoring the island. On 2 September 1967, they hoisted their own flag and declared the existence of a new state - the Principality of Sealand.

Sounds fascinating doesn't it? It'd be pretty awesome to rule your own country, wouldn't it? But before you get all atwitter with grand visions of becoming a dictator, I have to tell you that there is a dark side to Sealand.

A very dark side.

For one thing - the name...I mean...Sealand? That's really the best you could come up with? Why not name it Dinkenflugen or Chigalooloo? Or you could fuck with other countries and name it something like Eyerland, or Phrance. But Sealand? For shame, world's smallest country owners.

Not only does Sealand have an embarrassing name, but to put it in the nicest way possible, it's a shit hole. It's a metal platform on top of two concrete pylons. Here. See for yourself.

Yeah. That's it.

That's Sealand.

Shit hole extraordinaire.

And that picture is taken BEFORE the fire. Last June there was a fire and you can go hereto see what it looks like post-fire. Now it's an even bigger shit hole.

I think Sealand may be a tough sale, and the owners should seriously consider having me write their real estate advertisement. Here's a rough draft.

For sale. World's smallest country. Shangri-la, Nirvana, Sealand. Whatever you call it, this man-made tropical island can be your little slice of heaven. This vast 500 sq meter paradise of lush metal and steel sits atop two pillars of the finest 1940s era concrete. Relax on your back deck and watch the water lap gently againt the sides of the pylons that are possibly on the brink of collapse. Enjoy the occasional boater, and with full sovereignty of your country, you can shoot the bastards if they venture too close. Take long moonlit walks around your Garden of Eden. Around and around in circles. Over and over again with nowhere else to go, while the voices in your head begin as a soft murmur and then crescendo into a full chorus of insanities that tempt you to jump over the railing. But not before taking out the other inhabitants of your island with the semi-automatic you keep tucked under your pillow. Your island estate has a large state room master suite and several guest berths cottages. There's also a kitchen. But here on the high seas, we like to call it a galley. Aarrgh, matey. There's also a toilet. Just a toilet. No shower or bath is necessary as we have Mother Nature to cleanse us and make us whole. The estate is currently being remodeled and that charred aroma should dissipate in 5 years or so. Make an offer now, because this sweet piece of shit won't last long.

For clarity's sake, Sealand is not officially recognized as a country and therefore cannot be sold, but don't tell that to Sealand's Royal Family. It's a lot more fun having them think they can.

Take Care,
The Bablatrice

Bible World Land, Phase I

You know how in my Arkansas tourism post I mentioned that there had been plans to build a Christian amusement park and those plans fell through? Well, I am convinced that what this country world solar system needs is more Christian-based amusements, so I've decided to share my vision for a Christian amusement park. It is called Bible World Land.

Do you think I should call it Bible World Land, or should I squish the words together and make it BibleWorldLand? I've seen this word squishing used as a marketing ploy and although I don't know why they do it, I know it works.

Anyway, Bible World Land or BibleWorldLand will be divided into two sections. The Old Testament and the New Testament. I regret to inform you that no Jews will be allowed into the New Testament section of the park unless they stop by one of the 250 "Sinners Repent Here Booths" and accept that Jesus is indeed the Messiah and sign the 438 page agreement. In the blood of a first-born, spotless lamb.

While I'm at it, no gays, fornicators, adulterers, cult-members (this means you too, Mormons) atheists, agnostics, cross-dressers, feminists, whoremongers, pro-choice baby killers, new-agers, witches, Satanists, nor anyone who listens to any form of public radio, or who supports the agenda of any of the above. You all have an agenda. Everyone else is welcome with open arms. We will be checking all guests entering the premises, so don't think you reprobates can sneak in. We know what you look like.

This installment of Flumadiddle will bring you the Old Testament portion of the park.

The OT Rides and Amusements

The O-Testamentor: This is your basic roller coaster, big hills with 2 loops, but what makes it really scary is the Tunnel of Doom. (And you should read, "Tunnel of Doom" in an echoey voice. I know echoey isn't really a word, but dammit, you know what I mean.)
So, the Tunnel of Doom will be completely dark but will have OT scriptures flashing in neon throughout it. Please note that some of the verses are slightly paraphrased:

• Gen 2: 17 ...thou shalt surely die.
• Deut 31:14 ...thou must die.
• Gen 20: 7...thou shalt surely die
• Ex 35:2 ...you are going to fucking die.

The Plague-O-Matic - It's like a fun house minus the fun. Instead there are 10 rooms for each of the 10 plagues.

• Room 1 - Swim through bloody water.
• Room 2 - Be attacked by frogs. They're big and they've got GOD on their side.
• Room 3 - The Gnat Room. We strongly suggested that you keep your mouth closed.
• Room 4 - Attack of the flies. Watch out for maggots.
• Room 5 - Go through an obstacle course made entirely of dead cattle. (Now you know where we get our flies.)
• Room 6 - Instantly break out into boils. Don't worry, salve is handed out upon exiting.
• Room 7 - Try to stay alive while being pelted by hail and balls of fire.
• Room 8 - Battle swarms of locusts. Don't let the crunching sound freak you out. That's only the locusts eating your flesh. We don't feed them, and man are they hungry.
• Room 9 - Complete darkness. Complete and total darkness. Wow! That's so not scary. Okay, complete darkness with horny, rabid howler monkeys. We realize that howler monkeys weren't part of the original plagues, but we at Bible World Land like to mix it up a bit.
• Room 10 - The Passover Room. If you are a firstborn do NOT enter this room. If you do, you'd better be able to kick the LORD'S ass, 'cause he will smite you. He HATES firstborn anything.

The Jonah Jonah ba Bonah -A fun-filled water ride that lands you straight into the belly of a whale. Make sure you bring snacks, because you're going to be in the belly for 3 days and nights. Showers are provided after the whale pukes you onto dry land to get off all that nasty whale-belly ick.

Jericho to Go Go -A group of you will be given trumpets and you will march around the walls of our replica Jericho for 7 days. At the end of 7 days you will blow sound your trumpets. If this trumpet blowing sounding doesn't render the city destroyed, you will be.

The Den-a-tron -Just like good ol' Daniel, you will be thrown into a den of lions. For those true Christians, GOD will close the mouths of the lions and you will remain unharmed. Should you be eaten by the lions it means that you are indeed an unrepentant sinner and you deserved to die. We hope you enjoy burning in hell. For all of eternity. It could also mean that the lions were just hungry. Oh well.

Old Testament Attractions

The Totally Rockin' Sinners Stoning - Watch sinners get stoned. Crowd participation encouraged and rocks are provided. You don't have to bring a thing except your pitching arm.

The All-Star Harlot Hour- Watch Rahab, Jezebel and Delilah perform death-defying acts of whoredom. We request that you do NOT place dollar bills in the sashes of our whores. There are offering plates at all exits for the purpose of tipping the dirty tramps.

The Moses Laser Light Show - Watch as Moses climbs Mount Sinai and fetches the 10 Commandments. But here at Bible World Land, the commandments aren't etched into the tablets with GOD'S finger. We use a laser. But we call it GOD's finger.

Song of Solomon Re-enacted - This one is definitely not for the kiddies. Due to the mature nature of this attraction, no one under 18 will be allowed. Let's just say that when that chick in Song of Solomon said ,"My beloved is mine and I am his; he feeds among the lilies", she was not accusing Solomon of being a vegan.

David Raps the Psalms- Oh yeah! King David will get all crunk on yo' ass rappin' out his wicked, off the hook Psalms. Come watch David get down with his bad self. Tru dat.

If a day of exhilarating, GODly amusement and entertainment leaves you thirsty or hungry, we have the following establishments located in our food court.

Lot's Wife's Saltwater Taffy Emporium
Moses' Manna Hut
Ye Olde Burnt Offerings
The Golden Calf Cafe
Noah's Exotic Animal Buffet
Eve's Apple Fritters

We hope you enjoy your time at Bible World Land, and must mention that we are not responsible for any injuries, maimings, dismemberments or death. If you should fall victim to death count it a blessing because you'll be free of this evil, sin-filled world and you'll be in heaven with our LORD GOD. Amen.

Take Care,

The Bablatrice - who is wondering if $79.99 is too much to charge for admission.

We're Management?

Random snippets of conversation spoken during our annual budget meeting.

"Ha. You said unit."

"What was he choking on?"
"The clip off his pen."
"Does anyone know the Heimlich maneuver?"
"He doesn't need the Heimlich. He was coughing, so he's still breathing."
"Well, if he doesn't come back in 5 minutes, we can go see if he died."
"Would that postpone the meeting?"

"That's because guys use their dooflinkies to measure things with."

"Okay, but we're not going to call you Papa-san."

"Just a minute, I'll look at my thing."
"Will you look at my thing?"

"I don't think the Virgin Mary's boobies were that big."

"You know sometimes you're a really smart guy."
"And other times you choke on a pen clip."

"Can I dress like a dominatrix when I do that?"

"So we get to keep the funnoodles?"

We're mature, huh?

Jesus Spotted!

That Jesus Sho' Gets Around

I am thrilled to bring you my first reader-submitted photo of a Jesus sighting. This time the image of Big J appeared in the grain of a countertop amid vodka-filled sippee cups. This means that JC has graduated from wine to vodka. Gin can't be far behind. Isn't it amazing how Jesus in his bobble-headed righteousness appears to be 3-D? It's like he's rising straight out of the countertop. Oh, that's right...the ascension thing. I keep forgetting. This sure as heck beats Jesus on a sandwich. Thank you Eeeeekkk for sending this in. You really should read Eeeeekkk's blog. And if I ever get around to putting a "Blogs I Like" list on my sidebar, his will be one of them. Also, when you read the word "Eeeeekkk" you should do it in the highest voice possible. It amuses me. I'm sure it will do the same for you.

Jesus has also been spotted on the wall of a train platform in Sydney. Are those black wings on the saviour? And what the hell happened to his neck? It's disappeared. Did someone steal Jesus' neck? How come no matter where I go in the room the eyes are following me?

I guess this picture proves that Jesus was built like a brick...wall. He's a brick house. He's mighty, mighty. Just lettin' it all hang out.

Later,

Babs

My Response to The "Professor"

I received an absolutely riveting comment on my last post from UNC-Professor. He has an equally riveting blog. I'm not going to post the whole comment because it quite possibly reaches record proportions for comment posting. Seriously.

The beginning of his composition began with this.

"You have a riveting web log and undoubtedly must have atypical & quiescent potential for your intended readership.May I suggest that you do everything in your power to honor your encyclopedic/omniscient Designer/Architect as well as your revering audience."

This engrossing drivel continued, and then he posted about 40 quotes from famous people and then added a list of 30 blogs that I might want to read. He then concluded with this:

"Only one of these is amalgamated with me - can you determine which one??? Tell me sometime what your thoughts are about all this:O) "

At first I wasn't going to respond to the "Professor", because I didn't consider it worth my time. But I changed my mind. So, here is my response.

Dearest Verbose "Professor",

To begin, I hope you read the other comments under yours, because my homies got my back, dawg. That's right. Eeeeekkk and Fwig - how can I ever thank you for such eloquent responses to such pious babbling?

"Professor", if you feel the need to bow and worship to a religion and all it entails, you have that right. However, I have chosen to free myself from all binds of religion. That is my right.

Religion is superstition wrapped in fear, and serves no purpose to man other than making him a slave to the rigors of trying to maintain a level of piety and devotion to unknown entities. It breeds arrogance and pretentiousness that is cloaked by a false humility. It gives birth to martyrs who cry out that they are oppressed, who then turn and oppress those who do not make choices that they are in agreement with. It strips a person of their dignity and intelligence and leaves them devoid of the true beauty of this life. It creates prejudices and injustices, wars and hatred.

Religion reaches into our communities and separates them. It pits man against man in the hopes that our right of living how we see best for ourselves is placed conveniently in the nearest waste heap.

It brings a supposition of an afterlife which causes its followers to abandon any protection of our earth. Instead Earth is looked upon as a disposable stopping point on the way to eternity, and any thought of maintaining her for our future generations is spat upon as a ridiculous waste.

You may use whatever means are at your disposal to make your beliefs clear. You may shout out the name of your god, and pen your verbose ramblings until you run out of ink. But I will be here on the other side speaking out against this strangle-hold that religion has on mankind that threatens to choke out any dignity, intelligence and freedom we have. I will continue to point out the absurdities that are found in religion. I will not stop until the voice of religion has been squelched or until I am no longer able to speak.

In closing, I might point out that the glaring difference between you and I, "Professor", is that I am not so pompous as to be invasive. I will not leave comments on your blog asking you to give up your god. I will not knock on your door attempting to sell you my viewpoint. I will never force my lack of religion on anyone who does not choose to hear it. I will do it on my own time, in my own way, in my own space.
One more thing, determining which blog was yours out of the list of blogs you posted is as easy as clicking on your username. Really not much of a challenge.

Take Care,
The Bablatrice

Sightings

That Jesus Sho' Gets Around

A Milwaukee woman saw Jesus on a tree.

AND

Florida residents saw Jesus on a tree.

No nails were needed for either one.

Where will Jesus appear next? If Jesus should happen to appear on one of your trees, or on a rutabaga or such, please send me the picture. I will post it right here on Flumadiddle with your story, and you'll be famous. And rich beyond your wildest dreams. And yes, Fwig, I'll accept images of Calvin.

An Extremely Rare Sighting That is so Rare it's Not Seen Very Often. At All! Hardly Ever!

Thomas: You're not going to believe this.
Me: What?
Thomas: I SAW CHURCH SIGN GUY!!!
Me: No way.
Thomas: Yeah, just as he was putting the finishing touches on the sign.
Me: Did you take his picture?
Thomas: Oh fuck! Why didn't I think of that?

I think it's better that we don't have a photo of church sign guy. I'm sure that all of you have your own idea of what he looks like, and I don't want that to be spoiled.

I think we should just embrace our own image of church sign guy and feel the love. Feel the church sign guy love. Doesn't that feel good?

I think I just lowered myself to level creepy.

Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who is going to do a quick lord-check on all her trees tomorrow.

More Fun at the Office

Since I have the honor of being in the front office at work, I get to greet anyone who should walk though the door. The majority of the time it's just someone needing directions. I wonder if they realize that I'm purposely misleading them? Anyway, I also get to deal with anyone who fills out an application. And I get to ask them questions to see if we really need to call them in for an interview. Questions like: Does that thing on your neck hurt? If you could be any bacteria, which would you choose? Have you ever wondered what it would be like to live inside a grape? Do you agree that Smurfette was a whore?

Oh yes, I am privy to all kinds of pertinent information, and this includes the reason they left their last job. I've compiled a list of a few of the more stellar reasons. And they are:

• B.S. Then you should feel right at home here. "More bullshit" is our motto.
• Price of copper went down. Oh, well of course. That explains everything.
• My father-in-law is the owner. That's an excellent reason. But what the hell possessed you to work for your father-in-law in the first place?
• Boss didn't want me no more. He just said he was tired of me. I done things he didn't think I could do and he got mad. Dude, you have super powers? Can you shoot lightning bolts out your ass?
• I'll explain. Oooh...so ominous. Can you write it down in code, 'cause that'd be way cool.
• Terminated? Maybe? Possibly? Who could have the answer to this conundrum?
• Stole Pay. Uh. I don't think I'd be admitting that when you're filling out an application. Wait until after we hire you and let us find out the hard way.
• Not happy in food. How can you not be happy in food? I love it when I'm in food. Especially gumdrops. There's nothing like being in a big tub of gumdrops.
• Personal issue - had to leave area. Witness protection program? You mowed down everyone at your last job and you're wanted by the FBI?
• Gas. Oh my, that's quite...um..well that had to be embarrassing for you. And, by the way, you kinda stink.
• Love box closed. Exactly what was your former job?
• Mike said no more. That Mike's a toughie, but we all know when Mike says, "no more" he means it!
• Sick reason. You fucked a muskrat on the job? You were caught flinging poop at your fellow employees? You asked your co-workers to lick your hand because you could smell it and make an educated guess as to what they had for lunch?
• Went through a lawsuit with the company. You sound like the ideal employee.
• Treated me like dishwasher. They threw me sauce dip. Aarrgh. Them lily-livered landlubbers are always throwin' me sauce dip. I be makin' 'em walk the plank fer it and they can throw all the sauce dip they be wantin' to down in Davy Jones' Locker.
• I think I was laid off. I think you're not hired.
• Moved to NW Arkansas as planned. Roger that. Proceed to Phase II of Project Purple Goose. The purple goose says swim like a polliwog. I repeat. Swim like a polliwog. Over and out. (What the hell is wrong with me?)
• No reason. Good enough for me. Welcome aboard!
  

Take Care,

The Bablatrice - she's the cheesiest.

If Wednesday Was a Person, I'd Kick Their Ass

Fun at the Office

I work for a small company - 20 - 30 employees, depending on the time of year. I realize that I'm not going to have the same things as those who work for a large company. There's no gossiping while huddled around the water cooler. We don't have a water cooler. We don't have interoffice email. Well, actually we do, but we find it easier to yell at each other. There aren't committees or boardrooms. We have no copy room, which means no hot repair guy to ogle at. I'm okay with not having these things. But should I really have to run water through a 2" PVC pipe from the sink into the back of the toilet so there's enough water so I can flush?

Believe it or not, that was one of the better parts of my day. How big does a company have to be before I need an assistant? Does anyone know? Is it based on client count? Gross sales? Whether or not the office manager was found under her desk singing Pop Goes the Weasel while trying to poke her jugular vein with a paper clip?

Random Fact About Me

I eat a spoonful of peanut butter almost every day. Peanut butter on a spoon. Creamy peanut butter. On a spoon.

It really doesn't seem that impressive now that I have it typed out.

Church Sign O' The Week

"Never give the devil a ride, he will want to drive."

Oh my god church sign guy! You may find this difficult to believe, but I totally agree with you. I once made the mistake of picking up Satan- he was hitchhiking, it was raining - and you are so right. He wanted to drive. He begged and pleaded with me until I gave in. And the bitch can't drive. In my defense I had no clue that it was Beelzebub. He told me his name was Ralph. How can you not trust a guy whose name is Ralph? Is your name Ralph, church sign guy?

For those of you needing a description of the Evil One so you'll know who he is and won't be taken in by his deceitful tongue, I found this wonderful website. I especially love how Satan has filthy fingers and he has brains. And colors. Please note that this website hasn't been updated in over 8 years, so Satan may have washed his hands by now, and his colors might be faded just a tad.

That is all.

Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who has discovered that rocking back and forth is very soothing.