Before I denounce credulous fools, let me explain that I myself am a credulous fool.or
Some celebrities are flakes!or
I am a writer who never came across the phrase "paradigm shift" before the election.or
Don't mind this beam, check out that mote!The article is very very very long and so chock full o' nuttiness that I am going to pretend I have a reasonable excuse to not investigate further.
23 comments:
Hmmmm.
Now THIS is a challenge.
As always, I'm not going to investigate the source material. Life, especially mine, is just far too short.
So, do we have enough information here to comment? Pretty obviously we don't. Should we let that stop us? Now that's just silly, granny.
As much as I hear about this "paragigm shift" thingie, I always wonder: "What is truly accomplished by moving twenty cents from one pocket to another?"
mikey
It's amazing to me - and by amazing, I mean not amazing - how many Big Failywood posts feature a disclaimer somewhere along the way that the author DOESN'T KNOW WHAT HE'S TALKING ABOUT.
Thank you, Thomas Kuhn, but your services are no longer needed. Charles Winecoff likes his ignorance. It got him his gig at the Big Hollywood after all.
So, do we have enough information here to comment?
Shorter #4 is pretty much the deal. Apparently, some flakes like Obama, including...SHIRLEY MACLAINE.
Strangely, having actual conspiracy theorists and supernaturalists in office up until recently is not mentioned.
They'll be inviting astrologers into the White House for policy advice before you know where you are.
Catholic mass may be frowned upon - but do it in a circle, in the dirt, with feathers on your head, and suddenly it’s full of mystical truth. Walmart may be capitalism at its most obscene - but Kokopelli waste baskets, Sun Dances taught on tennis courts, ”sweat lodges” held on cruise ships, and swingers parties advertised as “traditional Cherokee ceremonies” - those are ”sacred.”
Why didn't anybody invite me to the socialist orgy?
Oh crap. They're totally on to us.
Now we're going to have to stop calling them "traditional cherokee ceremonies".
Hmm. What to call them now?
How bout "Dancing with My Underpants"?
mikey
STILL NO INVITE.
For what it's worth I will brush my remaining teeth.
Sun Dances taught on tennis courts,
With the piercings through the muscle and the blood and everything? That's going to get in the way during the mixed doubles.
And as Doghouse Riley likes to point out, the Ghost Dance has been the main expression of spirituality among Movement Conservatives for the last year or so, so this is evidently a bipartisan phenomenon.
I'm a champagne sweat lodger anyway.
Capcholino reminisces about diumslsu that his mum used to make
Do I believe in life after death? Yes. Do I believe we can visualize peace? No. If there’s one thing we can learn from our purposeful enemies, the jihadists, it’s that spiritual people can be warriors too.
Awesome!
Do I believe that the deflagration of gunpowder can drive my rounds downrange at very high velocities? Yes.
Do I believe that our FAC can bring the fast movers down on your sorry ass? Yes, I do.
Do I beleive that arty will eat your lunch and date your daughter? Why, yes.
If there's one thing we can learn from the fact that we're actually LIVING IN THE TWENTYFIRST CENTURY is that atheists can be warriors too.
Thanks for that Bubba.
I may not have to burn down the neighboring apartment complex tonight now...
Huh, I can visualize peace better than I can imagine how an eternity of a fruitless, changeless, challengeless existence would be anything but a pointless bore.
Well, my life is very much like that last list, but I GOT PLUMS.
Can't say it's not fruitless then, CAN YOU?
It's fruited, plain.
It was very kind of you
not to notice extra not.
Or perhaps there were too few?
This here pome is not worth squat.
Truth be told I noticed not
The "not" that nayed the note
The fruitfulness of plums is plain;
I didn't want to gloat.
You people are plumming the depths.
Also, your poetry is leaden. I'll go as far as to call it plumbum.
Sir: I will not have you imprune our art.
In an attempt to foster a sense of unlettered sincerity, Mr Bubba's verses are written in a faux-naif doggerel, but his studied naivete does not fool my green-gauge.
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