The Spagnostics and the Pastafarians follow the Spaghedeity and believe in the sanctity of pirates. What's not to like?!
More info: Homepage: http://www.venganza.org/
Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flying_Spaghetti_Monster
Sept 19th is coming fast.
... but Jesus has finally come out with a rebuttal to John Lennon.
Lennon had made very controversial comments back in 1966 regarding the waning popularity of Jesus and the Catholic church.
Jesus had been slow to reply, first allowing Republicans to have their say. But it turned out the Beatles were more popular than Republicans and the sarcasm of Lennon's comments was allowed to be understood. Lennon's comments soon drifted into popular culture...
... and then even into academic culture, as hippies soon became professors. (Yes, you need this for a quality education.)
But with the death of George Carlin, who made a few suggestions for Jesus' reply as the priest in Dogma, Jesus has released this statement:
"Who's bigger than Jesus now, John?! Who's bigger than Jesus now?"
The following story, entitled Winnie and Walter, was published sometime in the 19th century by an unknown author. It's a bit of a tongue twister. And it might not make sense on one read (so read it again, Scallywag)
“Warm weather, Walter! Welcome warm weather! We were wishing winter would wane, weren’t we?” “We were well wearied with waiting,” whispered Waiter wearily. Wan, white, woe-begone was Walter; wayward, wilful, worn with weakness, wasted, waxing weaker whenever winter’s wild, withering winds were wailing. Wholly without waywardness was Winifred, Walter’s wise, womanly watcher, who, with winsome, wooing way, was well-beloved.
“We won’t wait, Walter; while weather’s warm we’ll wander where woodlands wave, won’t we?”
Walter’s wanton wretchedness wholly waned. “Why, Winnie, we’ll walk where we went when we were with Willie; we’ll weave wildflower wreaths, watch woodmen working; woodlice, worms wriggling; windmills whirling; watermills wheeling; we will win wild whortleberries, witness wheat winnowed.”
Wisbeach woods were wild with wildflowers; warm, westerly winds whispered where willows were waving; wood-pigeons, wrens, woodpeckers were warbling wild woodnotes. Where Wisbeach water-mill’s waters, which were wholly waveless, widened, were waterlilies, waxen white. Winifred wove wreaths with woodbine, whitehorn, wallflowers; whilst Walter whittled wooden wedges with willow wands.
Wholly without warning, wild wet winds woke within Wisbeach woods, whistling where Winifred wandered with Walter; weeping willows were wailing weirdly; waging war with wind-tossed waters. Winifred’s wary watchfulness waked.
“Walter, we won’t wait.”
“Which way, Winnie?”
Winifred wavered. “Why, where were we wandering? Wisbeach woods widen whichever way we walk. Where’s Wisbeach white wicket, where’s Winston’s water-mill?”
WistfuIly, Walter witnessed Winifred’s wonder. “Winnie, Winnie, we were wrong, wholly wrong; wandering within wild ways. Wayfaring weather-beaten waifs, well-nigh worn-out.”
Winifred waited where, within wattled woodwork walls, waggons, wheelbarrows, wains were waiting, weighty with withered wood. Walter, warmly wrapped with Winifred’s well-worn wadded waterproof, was wailing woefully, wholly wearied. Winnie, who, worn with watching, well-nigh weeping, was wistfully, wakefully waiting Willie’s well-known whistle, wholly wished Walter’s well-being warranted.
With well-timed wisdom, Walter was wound with wide, worsted wrappers, which wonderfully well withstood winter’s withering, whistling winds. Wholly without warm wrappers was Winifred, who, with womanly wisdom, was watching Walter’s welfare, warding Walter’s weakness.
“When will Willie wend where we wait?” wearily wondered Walter.
“Whist, Walter,” whispered Winnie, “who was whooping?”
“Whereabouts?”
Welcome whistling was waking Wisbeach woods when winter’s windy warfare waxed weaker.
“Winnie! Walter!”
Winifred’s wakefulness was well-grounded. “We’re well, Willie; we’re where Winston’s waggons wait.”
Without waiting, Willie was within Winston’s woodwork walls.
“Welcome, welcome, Willie.” Winnie was weeping with weariness with watching Walter, weak with wayfaring.
“Why Winnie! Wise, watchful, warm-hearted Winnie,” Willie whispered wheedlingly. “We won’t weep; Walter’s well. What were Walter without Winnie?”
Wholly wonderful was Winifred’s well-timed womanly wisdom, which well warranted weakly Walter’s welfare. Whenever wandering within Wisbeach woods with Winnie, Walter would whisper, “What were Walter without Winnie? Wise, watchful, warm-hearted Winnie!”
There is a list of the different products they believe to be 'safe' at the bottom of the article. Scallywag.Many Sunscreens Ineffective, Group SaysAdvocacy Group Says Many Popular Sunscreens Offer Inadequate Sun Protection, Calls On FDA To Implement Label Changes
(WebMD) An environmental research and advocacy group claims that four out of five brand-name sunscreens either provide inadequate sun protection or contain chemicals that may be unsafe, but industry representatives strongly dispute the charge.... (continue)
Let us pretend this was a few days ago.
Rod Stewart is Mad about Models. And Not the Kind he's Been Known to Marry.
by jgr80
Rod Stewart, or Mr. Stewart (as he's known to his butler), has an unhealthy obsession with model trains. In the December 2007 issue of Model Railroader, Stewart said "It means more to me to be on the cover of Model Railroader than to be on the cover of a music magazine."
during a 63-show North American tour in 2007, Stewart relocated his wife Penny Lancaster, the couple's toddler son Alistair, and seven massive traveling cases of model kits and tools to a suite of rooms in Chicago. From this central location, he flew to each night's show. After the performance, a limo would rush him back to the airport where his private jet would be waiting. After a quick flight back to Chicago and a few hours rest, Stewart would be up bright and early and busy at his model railroad workbench. Stewart said he could usually manage a few hours of steady model building each morning before setting aside his tools and spending the remainder of the day with his wife and son.This is the rockstar lifestyle people dream of... I mean who needs to sleep when you get to spend more time with the models you build instead of the models you marry. Dude is compensating for something.
These quickie news channels really need more communication between the ad department and the news department.
by jgr80
For some Canadians (I certainly feel a divide on this one), July 1st is a day to celebrate for a reason other than our nation's birth.
Those same Canadians may also be quite upset for the same reason.... Perplexed? Well, clearly it's unrestricted free agent day in the NHL. Something nearly as important as Canada Day to die-hard hockey fans.
Now a lot of people will be talking about Marian Hossa. A lot of people will be talking about Brian Campbell... and while I like both of these players, don't be fooled. The big name is my boy Mats.
I've had a lot of people annoy the crap out of me the last two weeks or so with the silly dialogue about Mats vs. TML vs. Montreal Girlymen. The headline and a few sentences in this article from this morning suggest Mats won't sign with Montreal, although there is clearly some doubt in the rest of the article. Hell, we may find out in the next couple of hours.
Well, I quite like the graceful slide of a Sundin stride down the ice towards a Montreal net. That is, while he's playing offense for the Leafs, rather than defense for Les Habitants (which is stupidest name in all of professional sports... even worse than all those silly Major League soccer teams like the New York Red Bulls, or the Columbus Crew, or the Football Club Dallas).
No. I will take the high-road on this one. Mats is/was an excellent player for Toronto and does/did a lot of great things for the team. The only negative thing I will say is that if he signs with Montreal he is a scum-sucking vaginoplasty patient who deserves to burn for deserting-- nay betraying-- the cause of all-things-Montreal-must-perish-from-horrible-sports-related-injuries. You already found out early in your career Quebec is not the place for a Swede. If you don't play for Toronto, go somewhere else or may all the wrath of Toronto fans follow you around like a plague throughout the league. There will be curses laid on all things Sundin and all things Montreal throughout the land. The permanent place you've earned among the verdant fields of Elysium will be replaced by the 8th circle of Hell.
But I'm not bitter.
In Korea, there are far too many people of the same name for Westerners to keep things straight. So rather than embarrass myself while I was teaching over there-- just like all the other teachers-- I gave them Western names. I named a lot of them after friends and family... named a lot of them after cartoon characters and comic book characters... but my favorite little guy didn't get an English at all. He was of Swedish-Korean decent and was named Mats. He didn't know a word of English when he started. He knew at least 13 words a lesson.
It would be a cold day in Elysium if I were not able to cheers for Mats Sundin.
More goals than Teemu Selanne, Ron Francis, Rocket Richard, Jean Beliveau, or Daryl Sittler.
More assists than Chris Chelios, Niklas Lidstrom, Larry Robinson, or Jean Beliveau.
None of it means a thing with that other sweater on.
