Those cats are just everywhere — now lolcats can has science. Even worse, it’s dominated by geology LOLcats. Geologists are too abrasive and intrusive to have a sense of humor, and it takes ages for them to tell a joke.
I do have something to say to physics cat, though.
Here, kitty kitty. I have a box, a geiger counter, and some cyanide for you.
Hank Fox sent me the link to this lovely little ditty. I don’t know why he didn’t forward it to Bill O’Reilly or Bill Donohue.
I hope you have headphones if you try to listen to this in a public place. And do try to avoid singing along.
On that appeal to you sentimental bastards, let me mention another thing: a webblogger in this holiday season in difficult straits. It’s going to get uglier still in the future, I suspect, since this collapsing housing bubble is going to hurt a lot of people in real estate, finance, property management, etc. Kevin Hayden of the American Street is in that position — if anyone can help him out, please do.
For the War on Christmas.
Although if you’re at work, it probably isn’t a good idea to crank up the volume. Unless you work in a lab, in which case your colleagues might join in on the chorus.
If you’ve ever seen John Edward or James van Praagh, or any of a thousand other idiot spirit mediums, you’ll know how conversations sound in the afterlife. Death is apparently a leading cause of brain damage.
Why do I have this urge to send this to Stuart Pivar?
We live in a world of lunatics. You want a baby? Then go sit in a chair owned by Saint Mary Frances of the Five Wounds. She was an 18th century weirdo who threw her life away in pointless self-flagellation, so it’s only natural that 21st century deluded irrationalists would think her furniture carries magic powers that would potentiate fertility rites.
Hair shirts and a whip hanging from the walls remind pilgrims of the grim “voluntary penance” the saint adopted after joining the strict order of Saint Peter of Alcantara.
As the religious name she took suggests, she was believed to carry the “stigmata” or wounds of Jesus. She was the first woman saint born in Naples, but there is no hint in her life story as to why her help is sought by childless women in particular.
“Are you married?” Sister Maria Giuliana whispers to a young woman sitting on the armchair, before touching the visitor’s breast and belly with a “monstrance” or reliquiary containing a vertebra and a lock of hair from the saint.
What a ridiculous waste.
Oh, but I forgot. We’re supposed to respect the religious impulse. Screw that—laugh. These jokers are absurd.
They’re calling it “External Delivery”, but come on, they’re aren’t fooling anyone. This is just storkism under another name.
