» God

Right then...
...I've been biting my tongue all week, but dammit if religion isn't just so absolutely vile that I just have to rant. This is snipped from the reply that broke the camel's back, wherein preachy atheists sicken non-preachy atheists as much preachy theists.

--

Religion isn't sweet little old ladies baking cakes to raffle for charity. It's 'owning' your wife, and beating her whenever you please. It's 1000 Africans a day dying of aids, and some little bloke who lives in a palace objecting to them doing something that would save a lot of their lives, because the little house of cards he's built to hide from reality in is too fragile. It's millions of deaths brought about squabbling over whose imaginary friend is better, and which bit of land he said you could live on. It's beating your 4 year old daughter to death when she has an epileptic fit because you think she has an evil spirit inside her.

Well, pardon me for being utterly sickened by it. Pardon me for refusing to just watch something sickening happening without speaking out. Pardon me for thinking that beliefs which can be confirmed by anyone should outweigh beliefs you just happened to find lying around in an old book. Pardon me for not wallowing in intellectual cowardice when faced with difficult questions. Pardon me for thinking "I don't know, yet" is a perfectly valid answer to any question. Pardon me for preaching instead of walking past, pretending not to notice the atrocities in plain view.

The little old ladies with their cakes - they're a veil that is drawn over the above. They're the naive staff in the 'legitimate businesses' laundering the drug money. They're the magnificent achievement of the Volkswagon*.

Fuck religion, fuck defending it as nothing more than a different opinion, and fuck people being indignant at having any of this pointed out to them.

*Godwin's law be damned. If ever there was an exception, religion is it.
(Mon 23rd Mar 2009, 23:14, More)

» Evil Pranks

Haven't got around to it yet, but...
...one waiting for a suitable victim is to alter their wheelie bin so that the words 'wheelie bin' are replaced with a suitable eye-catching label of 'scrapey bin'. "Scrapey bin? WTF?" they'll think to themselves. They'll get it when they try and move the thing and find the wheels have been removed...

Is it only me and one of my mates that find this side-splittingly amusing? I have a feeling it might well be.
(Tue 18th Dec 2007, 11:06, More)

» Bastard Colleagues

I once worked with someone...
...who was a complete bastard. You could say he was a BASTARD COLLEAGUE.

Shit. Harder than it looks this pun thing. Still, the interest level is about the same...
(Wed 30th Jan 2008, 14:44, More)

» Dumb things you've done

My brother (he's gonna hate me for this)...
...once came running to the kitchen sink, foaming at the mouth and nose and with (rightly so) a look of panic on his face. After minutes of spitting, dry heaving, trying to drink water etc to clear it all, he was finally able to explain.

He'd had a dodgy stomach, hadn't bothered to read the instructions on a packet of alka-seltzer and assumed they were to be swallowed with water like every other pill he'd ever come across...
(Thu 27th Dec 2007, 15:11, More)

» Dumb things you've done

Pearoast ahoy!
Standing on the corner of a main road in town with some mates, rather pissed and trying to decide where to go next, we were passed by a
police van. Five minutes or so pass and we're all still there, no closer to deciding where to go, when without saying a single word, two
rozzers appear from behind the corner, grab an arm each and lift and carry me backwards towards the van which had re-appeared from the other direction. They chucked me in the back despite my protestations of innocence, saying "we don't like being called wankers" by way of an explanation. My mates were meanwhile, in roughly equal numbers, getting close to being carted off themselves arguing my case or running away. Off we drove, back to the nick.

When we got there, there was a long delay while the desk sergeant fannied about freeing up space or somesuch, during which time I managed to remain sober enough to whingingly convince them that it wasn't in fact me that had been insulting them. I also managed to avoid the booking in routine, pocket search etc., which came in handy during the following... (I had plenty of cash left)

Them: Ok, you're free to go
Me: Great, now, how I am supposed to get home?
Them: Eh?
Me: I have two quid left, which would have been perfectly adequate to use for a cab split with my mates... if you hadn't have hauled me away.
Them: Pay when you get home?
Me: Two quid left for the month, not the night.
Them: Oh. Wait there a minute.

One of them buggers off in the direction of the sergeant, they leave for another room. There's then a lot of muffled shouting and he comes back looking very sheepish, as the sergeant goes back to the desk with red cheeks and a face like thunder. The copper says they are going to give me a lift home, and they do.

The back of the car was piled up with jackets, boots, hats, etc., and I had to squash the pile up to make room. Feeling quite peeved, and apparently not quite as sober as I'd thought, I decided that a nice policeman's hat would need to be added to the rollicking he got from the sarge and the lift home he wasn't obliged to give me, to make it up to a reasonable compensation for the slight of character and loss of an evening. And so, over the course of christ-knows-how-long, I managed to surrupticiously move one from the pile to my footwell, then up the inside of my shirt and get my coat done up without the zip maiing any noise. Yay. Got home, grudgingly thanked them for the lift, and went walked around the back of a house a few doors down from mine in case they were watching. As soon as they disappeared, one of my mates who had been there at the start appeared, seemingly from nowhere - he'd been waiting for me to get back, bless 'im, and had hidden when he saw the rozzers turn up.

Him: Did they charge you for it?
Me: For what? I didn't bloody do anything!
Him: Errr, yes you did.
Me: Eh?
Him: You screamed "Oi! Waaaannnkkeeerrrsssshhhh!" at them as they passed, accompanied with the appropriate gestures and gurning...
Me: Oh.

I felt suitably sheepish until the next day, when it suddenly dawned on me (I ain't always the sharpest tool in the shed) that to be legitimately arrested for being drunk and disorderly, you have to be warned first and ignore the warning. That, and of course be informed you're being arrested, read your rights etc. Two muppets jumping out from behind a corner and carting you off without a word doesn't cut it.

Wankersh.
(Thu 20th Dec 2007, 12:40, More)