"Hey, lighten up, OneEar!"

Fear Not, Goat-Petters: There is a Problem with Hell

Goat-petters, you may be persuaded to "die in Hell" because of OneEar's persuasive persuasion, but there are a few things that should be considered. Well, perhaps only one.

Be that as it may, as a frequent recipient of said "petting" by "goat" "petters", I would like to dispel any fears any potential "petters" may have, and I would also stand in the way of any sort of campaign of fear, such as that of OneEar's latest intimating that goat petters may "die in Hell".

You see, even if goat petters wanted to "die in Hell", there is a problem. Evidently, logic is unable to locate Hell. How is one supposed to go there to die, if it can't be found? There are goats that need petting, and this can't likely be accomplished if one were to spend all of his time looking around the stacks of logic and reasoning to no avail.

And this raises a larger issue: If no one can find Hell in the wider arena of sensible thinking, what about religion? You just can't have religion with no Hell. Catholics caught on to that right from the beginning. Why do you think they paid Dante so much for his architectural designs? Religion with no Hell is worse than a chick-flick with no obligatory sex-scene: no one will be able to con their boyfriends/husbands into watching. It's simply a non-option to the intellectually honest.

The implications of this shine an unwanted spotlight on institutions such as our own "ChurcK", and one might think that OneEar may have chosen to think before posting, rather than during.

All of a sudden, there shined a shiny demon... in the middle... of the road.
And he said:

"Play the best song in the world, or I'll eat your soul."

Die In Hell Goat-Petters

I was at a zoo recently with my children, and you would not believe what I saw: people petting goats! Right out in the public! And children were doing it too, right in front of their parents! I couldn't believe my eyes. Multiculturalism is ruining this country.

Non-religion is just as much of a religion as religion. It is simple. If you don't believe in the supernatural, then you have a supernatural belief in the non-supernatural. Either way, you believe in the supernatural.

Let's come at it from another angle. Say you don't believe in angles. Well, then how could there be "another" angle. There has to be an angle in order to be another angle. Likewise, you can't have an evidence-based system unless you believe in the absence of evidence, ie faith.

When you push it far enough, any of the secular humanist "laws" of physics are only established as matters of faith. Gravity, after all, is just a theory. Just because you fell down before, that doesn't mean you will fall the next time you, well, fall. You must admit that it is entirely possible that you will fly off like Superman the next time you stumble. But no, you take it on faith that you will fall, so you put your hands out to protect your face. The same goes for religion.

God has dictated very clearly that goat-petting is wrong. Satan has the hooves of a goat. Goats are used in pagan sacrifices. I could go on and on.

Yet despite the clear and unambiguous word of God, some people cannot resist the temptation to pet goats. I'm not going to sit here and tell you that I've never thought about petting goats myself. But I did not act on those desires because God told me not to and I knew that was the devil creeping into my thoughts to make me do evil.

Idiot Chef: The Days of Peanut Butter Chicken Have Gone

Ingredients:

a. 1 3-pound chicken
b. 1 Surly attitude, matured on the Eastern Shore
c. 1 Jar "Skippy" brand peanut butter, smooth&creamy
d. 1 pack of matches
e. 1 cold winter night
f. 1 fifth of cheap-ass whiskey
g. dime-bag of "oregano"
h. delusions of culinary grandeur
i. City of Williamsburg Fire Department representatives, on the clock
j. two cases of beasty beer

Begin with 'b'. Add 'j' over early part of evening, combined with 'g'. Use this combination to develop fierce case of munchies. Throw rocket-fuel into the mix by complaining about everyone being a bunch of p*ssies because they won't drink 'f' with you. Conduct activities on 'e'. Settle down into a state of marginal motor control in basement apartment with winter coat on. Slur words as you again remind others that they are p*ssies, and that you are hungry. Offer to help others who state that they, too, are close to starving, by returning to 'h'.

Find 'a' in the refrigerator. Have no idea how long it has been there or where the pisser is. Place in frying pan. Cover with 'c', with very little attention to detail. Attempt to heat, to no avail. Become annoyed with slowness of electric heating conduits. Take remaining 3 Oz of 'f', and pour on 'a'. Go through many of the contents of 'd' before sending 4ft flames toward the ceiling. Start some fast-talking, despite loss of refined motor control, when 'i' show up. Assure anyone who will listen that everything is 'ok'.

Old Man often sings of Old Men

Old man lying
by the side of the road
With the lorries rolling by,
Blue moon sinking
from the weight of the load
And the building scrape the sky,
Cold wind ripping
down the allay at dawn
And the morning paper flies,
Dead man lying
by the side of the road
With the daylight in his eyes.

Don't let it bring you down
It's only castles burning,
Find someone who's turning
And you will come around.

Blind man running
through the light
of the night
With an answer in his hand,
Come on down
to the river of sight
And you can really understand,
Red lights flashing
through the window
in the rain,
Can you hear the sirens moan?
White cane lying
in a gutter in the lane,
If you're walking home alone.

Don't let it bring you down
It's only castles burning,
Just find someone who's turning
And you will come around.

Don't let it bring you down
It's only castles burning,
Just find someone who's turning
And you will come around.

Back to the Suture

It has been suggested for The Rusty Sessions 2008 that we should return to our roots. Does anybody know where we left our roots? Coco, you tend to collect that sort of thing. Do you have our roots?

I am working on the set list.
Something
High Heeled Sneakers

Please forward any other requests.

Heather Mills headed for Verona

Recently, OneEar has confessed to never playing any of those songs which Ms. Mills, by all rights, really deserves credit and financial compensation for. (REALLY, Sir Paul, where do you get off? Did you think your wife's only talent was demonstrating her birth canal for money?) At the risk of being out of line, BurgerMeister Meisterburger's regime has officially extended an all-expenses-paid invitation to Ms. Mills for the upcoming Rusty Sessions recording gala/fiasco. "We will finally get someone to play that lesbian piss-boy we have contemplated for years, thanks to Ms. Mills," was the official statement. Let's just hope OneEar doesn't aggravate this charming woman by playing any of her songs.

Moses Dead. Twice as Corny.

Years ago, I remember chatting with Moses before he could afford to purchase brand-name underwear. I tried to do him a favor and use my shaman's Magic Wand to turn his hedgehog-skin shirt into a Faconable french-cuffed pin-striped shirt, but something went wrong with the incantation, as you can see. Or am I smoking a cigarette, held at great distance from my face to avoid the obvious fire hazard? The Jerk-Off (TM) Drive could answer the question, since all of my drinking makes me less reliable as time passes.

Rest In Peace, Captain George Taylor. Say 'hi' to Cornelius.

"You maniacs! You blew it up! Damn you! Damn you all to hell!"

Help Jack Off

Professor Michio Kaku, of City University in New York, has ruled out time travel for at least a few millennia, but believes invisibility cloaks and telepathy could be possible this century.

Well, smarty pants, why can't I invent my Jack-off Drive (TM) now with technology brought to me from the future by a Jack-off Driver (TM)? I will consider Jack-off Driving backwards to move the technology farther into the past of space-time, but I will decline to do so because it would make my Jack-off Drive obsolete and therefore worthless in my present and will not buy me a new boat.

I had not considered creating an invisibility cloak, but, once I've worked out the details of the Jack-off Drive (TM), I will go back and think of that one earlier.

As for telepathy, I can see no practical benefits to that given the widespread availability of CB radios.

You guys all went off to a different blog without telling me, didn't you?

Well. Just admit it. I can be in a blog all by myself. I don't care if no one approved of the deutschmark takeover. I'll just keep reading my own witty and High-sterically annoying entries. So there. I don't even like any of you, anyways. Ha. I had sadly predicted this moment from the start. **sigh**