The Digital Pack-Rat, Vol. 22


My apologies for no recent posts. As I was telling Podblack Cat recently, this is not necessarily a bad thing–I tend to write more when under great stress. The Cuttlekids are home from college, and I am a happy mollusk. But hey, we have plenty of stress, so stay tuned.
I know I am missing some, but here are a sampling of recent comments from Pharyngula:

Regarding Isabella Rosselini’s “Green Porn” series… specifically, she was a squid:

The warm embrace of twenty eighteen arms
And Isabella’s human charms
Are pure delight for Cuttlefish,
Although, of course, I’d make a wish
That she’d remove her squid disguise
Just her, beneath the sunny skies
No costume, just herself and me
As happy as two fish could be!

Ah, the wonderful past. So much better than the present, wasn’t it?

Ancient Man was so much smarter
(Ancient woman played a part–her
Contribution, though gets edited, and loses quite a bit)
Than our modern Man Of Science,
Who is forced to put reliance
In the stuff we stole from Aliens, like microwaves and shit.
Yes, the Neolithic human
Wasn’t always “doom-and-gloom”, and
Had a better way of thinking than the average man today!
We depend on our computers
As our parents, friends, and tutors–
While we fiddle with technology, our brains dissolve away!

The most amusing billboards are not the atheists’, but other Christian denominations:

Mary, Mary, quite contrary
What did you think of Joe?
Compared to God’s, I think the odds
His measured up are low.

Mary, Mary, kept her cherry,
May God protect the lass;
To be like Her, good girls prefer
To take it up the ass.

Oh, yeah, the woman in the red jumpsuit tackled the Pope…

The war on Christmas grows in scope–
A woman just attacked the Pope!
While on his way to give the Mass
She knocked him on his papal ass–
He got right up and on his way
To speak to all, this Christmas day.
Although his world-view may be shit,
The geezer Pope can take a hit.

And Ray “Bananaman” Comfort stole some pages for “his” book:

A book which needs no introduction
Got one anyway.
Ray’s writing had the sound of suction;
Now, he’ll have to pay.
His first three pages did not quite
Appear like they belong–
They’ll argue over copyright:
It’s surely copywrong.

Prayer works–just ask your local Cardinal.

For pain relief, take true belief,
And call me in the morning.
But be aware, there’s nothing there
(Consider this your warning)

Devoutly pray, three times a day,
Not waiting for an answer;
And, what the hell, says Cardinal Pell,
It might just cure your cancer.

Wanna choose a religion?

Spin the wheel,
Roll the dice,
Throw the dart–
Don’t think twice!

Win or lose?
Beat the odds!
What the hell,
They’re only gods.

A gene for belief? A gene for atheism?

Eureka! I’ve a Christian here, genetically engineered!
Identical, as far as we can probe–
It turned out much much easier by far than we had feared;
All it took was turning off the frontal lobe.

We’ve carefully examined, and we’ve searched for any flaw,
But it seems that nothing major’s gone amiss;
A side effect elicited is wonderment and awe,
But the primary? That ignorance is bliss.

What evolution started, we can fiddle just a smidgin,
And improve a lot, with very little strain;
From an atheistic creature, we can generate religion!
All it takes is just removing half the brain!

Truly conscious beings live in the “now”, you know.

“Now” is a wonderful word
Or at least, that’s what I’ve heard.
Though dead men, or ‘bots,
(Whom we say have no thoughts)
With no concept of time
Nor of reason, nor rhyme
Find a concept like “now” quite absurd.

“There is no now for the dead”
I have heard (or the similar) said
Though the newly deceased
Have not claimed that, at least
To my knowledge. The claim
Is most often, the same
Made by those who are living, instead

We generate circular claims
For our own philosophical aims,
But our own points of view
(Mine is me; yours is you
Which no other can see
(Yours is you; mine is me
Hasn’t changed since the writing of James!

Oh, yeah… Congress shall recognize… an asshole says “Merry Christmas!”

Mister Brown, he went to town
To pass some laws for Jesus.
He doesn’t care if what he does
Is likely not to please us.

He doesn’t care if what he does
Might not stand up in court;
You tell him “Happy Holidays!”
“It’s Christmas!” he’ll retort.

Mister Brown will use his faith,
He gladly will explain.
Of course, we could have guessed as much:
He doesn’t use his brain.

Comments

  1. says

    You're a little early, even in Perth! But Happy New Year to you and yours nonetheless. May the coming year beat the hell outta the one just leaving.

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