Bananas and Bibles!

One News Now has done it again. Another gripping article is up, and this one is about Ray Comfort. Ray's the dude who hangs out with Kirk Cameron and has the anti-evolution video in which he uses a banana as a demonstration tool. He's the banana man, and you can catch some hot banana action here.

Anyway, Ray was sitting around one night stroking his banana (it helps him think), and he had a flash of brilliance in which he realized that atheists and evolutionists don't have a bible. Hold the phone. What? They don't have a what? Holy, holy books, Batman! No bible? How do they manage to accomplish life's simplest of tasks without a bible to guide them in their every step?

But Ray's epiphany didn't stop there. He further taxed his brain and decided that atheists and evolutionists need a bible. Why? Let's have Ray explain it, "You ask one atheist something and he'll say I believe this about God -- and someone else will say something else," he shares. "They don't have a 'bible'...there is no rock to stand on."

Sweet Jesus on a paper plate! First no bible and now no rock? Someone hold me because I am scared. So scared and ever so cold. Just end the world now. Side note to Ray: If an atheist states that he believes something about God, guess what? Not an atheist.

The good news is that Ray has come up with an amazing solution to the lack of an atheist/evolutionist bible. He has written the Charles Darwin Bible. Well, hot dog and hallelujah! That's brilliant! Brilliant, I say. I only have one question.

What the fuck is a Charles Darwin Bible?

Well, Ray the Stroking Banana Man says that the Charles Darwin Bible takes a lot of evolutionary beliefs and juxtaposes them with scripture to create a clear case for the creator. I have trouble believing he really said that. Mostly because I don't think Ray knows what the word 'juxtaposes' means. I also think it's highly possibly that Ray is one chicken choker short of a circle jerk.

Anywho, I'd love to get my hands on Ray's banana. NO. That's not right. I'd love to get my hands on Ray's Charles Darwin Bible. So if any of you have one, give it up. I need it.

By the way, Bananas and Bibles is my new curse phrase. Oh Bananas and Bibles!

Smacks on the Ass,
Babs

Desperately Seeking

And now it's time for another round of weird shit people have searched for that have led them to Flumadiddle Land, and my responses to their searches.

• Odd quirky one liners – Eating bacon makes me touch myself.
  
  
• Whatever you want whatever you need I just want you back from god – Sorry. I’m god’s bitch, now. It’s a lifelong thing. He even made me spit shake on it.
  
  
• Birthday spanking dress position – I’m going to guess, um , up. Up would be good.
  
  
• Wash their hair with pee – No! Don't wash their hair with pee. You can buy cheap shampoo for about a buck.
  
  
• Balls hanging from exhaust pipe – Quit Googling this shit and get to an emergency room, man . Your nuts are on an exhaust pipe for fuck’s sake.
  
  
• Seven pigs – 18 chickens, 2 cows, 4 horses, 1 Luther Vandross CD = unforgettable night.
  
  
• How Fred Astaire’s levitating cane works – That’s not a levitating cane. He’s just happy to see you. Very , very happy.
  
  
• Babs tits – I have two. They’re kind of a matching pair although the right one is a tad bigger than the left.
  
  
• Shameless, Babs – Yeah, probably so.
  
  
• What can pee do for the skin – The only thing I know of is that it can make your skin smell like pee. Which is awesome if you want to smell like a bad nursing home.
  
  
• Chopstick acupuncture – Holy fuckmonkeys! That’s not acupuncture. That’s impaling.
  
  
• Please, Mr. Postman penis – Is that what the song is really about? Ohhhh. I get it now. "Please, Mr. Postman. Wait and see. If there’s a letter in your bag for me.” And then Mr. Postman says, “I got your letter right here, dollface.”
  
  Forever Yours,
  Maiden Babsalot

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What Stinks?

When you walk in the door of your home are you assaulted by foul odors? Worried that you're doomed to a life of a living somewhere that smells like old, crusty ass? Well, you can kick your worries right in the jimmy, because I have the solution to your odor problem.

His Essence Candles. See, they're candles that are made from the essence of Jesus. I know! Could anything be more awesome? I think not. Now, I'm not exactly sure just what part of Jesus his essence comes from. I'm not even sure how they extract it. But I have to admit that thinking about the possibilities does leave me a bit tingly. All I know is that once you start burning a candle that is filled with Jesus essence, your home will smell just like the son of the capital G god.

You might think that candles would be enough, but can you ever have too much Jesus essence? Um, that would be one big no motherflippin' way! So you really need to get one of these totally bitchin' His Essence mugs.

What better way to start your morning than having a big ol' cup of Essence o' Jesus? Deelicious!

Amen and Hallelujah!
Babs

VERY SPECIAL FLUMADIDDLE MESSAGE: Sometimes I'm a dumbass. I just realized that when I wrote the post about my crush, The Chemical Buddha, I didn't directly link to it. Um, fuckin' duh! So, here's the link: The Chemical Buddha. Also, TCB is dead and his 'monks' write the blog. Christ on a stick, I'm not a very good promoter...but I mean well, TCB. I really do!

Santa Baby

Recently the Magnificent Fwig requested a return of an old post, and I can deny him nothing. This one was originally posted in 2006. I can't believe I've been blogging that long. Even more amazingly is that some of you have been around for most of it Anyway, here it is. A little Christmas in June.

Dear Santa

In the local paper this week (yep - our town only has a weekly paper) there were letters to Santa from kids at the local schools. Here are a few of the better ones, with my comments. Did you really think I wouldn't comment?

Dear Santa, Is it cold up ther? I am shr it is. dont wre it will be wrm in my house. there will be hot chaliket. i been bad and good sometimes. I hop I get the theng's I want for cricmus. I hop you will give me wut I want for cricmus. Love, Will

Will- I hop you get what you want for cricmus, too - as well as a few vowels. You need them.

Dear Santa, How are you and Mrs. Claus? Thank you for the gifts that you gave me last year. I would like to have pjs also a barbie. I will leve you cookies and milk. Merry Christmas, Jennifer.

Jen - If Santa doesn't bring you pajamas and a Barbie, he's a big, fat mean bastard, and I will personally help you kick his ginormous, lard-filled ass.

Dear Santa, I hope you and Mrs. Claus are okay. Thank you for the prezes. I wuld like to have for Christmas this year I'd like to have urk eestrik log shot. Id like to havv ddgn. I will leave kookez and nelk. Zakkari

Um...Zak..are you an alien? 'Cause the last half of your letter sounds a lot like what I would imagine alien-speak to be.

Dear Santa, I wont to send you a meshig. What I rillie want is a new puppy. Next, I rillie wont is a horse. Last, I onte is a nother puppy for crismus. I rillie want theshe things. Love, Kensey.

Kensey - you're entirely too young to be drinking. Lay off the sauce until you're at least in the 5th grade, okay?

Dear Santa, My name is Autumn. I really want a baby bed for all of my dolls. I would like to say "I love you, and be safe, your going to splash your bottom going into my house."

Autumn, dear child, do you possibly live in a houseboat? Swamp? A raft in the middle of a pond? C'mon kid, I'm dyin' to know exactly how Santa's going to get a wet tush going to your house.

Dear Santa, I hope you and Mrs. Claus are don w wenl. Thank you fur the presents. I would like to have for Christmas this year is a makn chrowch chok. And I wont is a now viteo gom. And the last sta I kan am irtnel is I wont a I wont a naw bike. Gabe

Yo Gabe! Are you by any chance related to Zak the Alien?

Dear Santa, Emily is my name. I would love to have a yellow moon shape touch light from the dollar tree. I would like to say "Merry Christmas and tell the rain deer hi for me."

It just breaks my heart that Emily only asks for one thing from the Dollar Tree. The Dollar Tree, people, where everything's a fucking dollar. Emily, if I knew who you were, I'd go to the Dollar Tree and buy you every single yellow moon touch lamp they had.

Eggnog For Everyone,
Babs

Pimpin' my Crush

I have added a new blog to my blog roll. It is The Chemical Buddha and it's one of my daily reads. Mostly because I have a seriously major crush on The Chemical Buddha. He's an alcoholic. He's addicted to drugs, and he'll have sex with anything that will hold still. But somehow, underneath all of his vulgar behavior, there's something sweet and endearing and vulnerable about him. If he were here right now I'd give him a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and I'd probably grab his ass. With both hands.

Anyway, go check it out. It's worth the read. Unlike my blog, it actually makes you think.

Warm Fuzzies,
Babs

Space Oddity

Those fun-lovin', nutty right-wingers over at One News Now are in one helluva self-righteous flap. Why the tizzy? Because that godless assemblage of bastard-type, space-loving, hell-bound, rocket-riding degenerates collectively known as NASA is supporting Gay and Lesbian Pride Month. Holy slippery Christ on a greased up trampoline, people!

I'm not sure if I should start with the fact that ONN decided that this graphic of a fudge covered space shuttle would be the best clip art for the article, or that the dude who wrote it is named Charlie Butts.

Smell that? That, my friends, is the aroma of maturity and I reek of it.

I suppose I really can't blame ONN for having their nuts in a lather over this. We all know that this is just one more step in homosexuals taking over the world solar system universe (which has been their diabolical plan all along). They're already stepping things up. You know how there used to be a gay agenda? Well, that wasn't spreading the gay fast enough so it's actually mutated into a disease. That's right. We now have...


The Gay is an airborne disease and is spread by Air Supply songs and by making direct eye contact with anyone named Charlie Butts.

Your face masks are futile. Taste the rainbow, bitches!

Much Love,
Babs - who doesn't really think any of you are a bitch. Well, except for YOU. You know who you are.

Best. Conversation. Ever.

Here's a little background to the dialogue: Miller is 5 and is a friend's son. The unnamed girl is around 8 and is a neighbor of Miller's. She has a dog named Willie. Here's the conversation I overheard yesterday while the two of them were playing with the dog.

Miller: I have a cat named Buddy.
Girl: Really?
Miller: Not Willie. Buddy.
Girl: Really?
Miller: No. Buddy. Not Willie.
Girl: Really?
Miller: NO. His name isn't Willie. It's Buddy.
Girl: Really?
Miller: NO. IT'S NOT WILLIE. IT'S BUDDY!

I stepped in at that point and explained that she was saying 'really', not 'Willie'. I thought it was best before he beat up a girl.

Later,
Babs

Keepin' it Tight!

While browsing church websites, as I'm wont to do in my spare time, I came across South Mountain Village Assembly of God. The church seems to be your typical Christian church and I don't really have anything to say about it except to point out their poor choice of a web address.

And by 'poor', I mean 'fucking awesome'.

Big Hugs,
Babsadoodle

Extra Fruity!

Everyone, say hello to Janine Sugawara. I guess this would be a better introduction if I actually had a photo of Janine, but sadly I do not. Janine is some kind of special. The stupid kind. What did Janine do to win such high praise? I think it has something to do with her being in court recently trying her darnedest to win a lawsuit in which she claims she was duped because the crunch berries in Cap'n Crunch Crunch Berries cereal aren't real fruit.

What the fuckity fuck? There's not a delectable fruit known as a crunch berry? I feel as though my entire life has been a lie.

Astonishingly enough, Janine did not win her case.

Psst, Janine. You should totally sue those bastards again, because Cap'n Crunch? Not one single captain in the box.

Oh, the disappointments of life.

Smooches,
Babs