It’s Not My Problem

 

Normally, I’m Joe Niceguy, willing to go a little out of my way to help others.  Like Bart Simpson, I don’t give up till I’ve tried at least one easy thing.  I recently read an article by a female columnist about this.  I basically agreed with her – until she got to whining about motorists who won’t let other drivers in.  There’s definitely two sides to that story, but then, she’s the one who got all upset about people who claim that they are spiritual, and believe in God – but don’t go to church – as if one has anything to do with the other.

 

 

 

 

She made me think of the times and places where you just can’t be nice.  You have to present folks with a problem to solve or they don’t learn nothin’.  Too many of them are too self-centered and/or dumb to learn, even when presented with a problem – but I keep tryin’.

When I first moved to this burg, you could hold street dances on the main road from my place out in the sticks, to downtown.  Nowadays, especially during that oxymoronic “rush hour,” bumper-to-bumper volume of traffic creeps along.

As I go down the hill from a set of traffic lights, towards the daughter’s place, there’s always a line at a stop sign at a side street, hoping to get out.  I occasionally let one, or two, into line, and then laugh at numbers three and four who think I’m going to sit there all afternoon.  If they went a block further, to the cross-street with the lights, they could get in.  Think ahead – without your ego and sense of entitlement.  It’s not my problem.

We left town the other day, and pulled onto the Superhighway.  A half-mile from the overpass bridge, there was a warning sign that it narrowed to one lane for road work.  A quarter-mile further, there was another warning sign, and yet, when we got to the spot where the right lane disappeared, drivers in the inner lane were cutting off drivers in the go-through lane.

I saw in my rear-view, a semi that couldn’t move over, since he couldn’t accelerate to match traffic speed, because yahoos were using the down-ramp, exit lane to the plaza, to rush ahead of him and cut back in, before cutting off more drivers up ahead.  I slowed my line almost to a stop and let him in, then snuggled up to his tail, and let the rest of the blind car drivers behind him figure it out for themselves. It’s not my problem. The fact that I didn’t get a wave, a flash of headlights, or a honk, soured it a bit for me, but I soon restocked my niceness.

A couple of blocks past the daughter’s place, the four-lane road narrows to two lanes.  Bumper-to-bumper, and at a complete standstill, I watched a driver come roaring up the inside, to the barricade.  Then, despite the fact that I couldn’t move, he bitched at me, because I wouldn’t let him in.  “My lane ends.  Where am I supposed to go?”  Exactly!!  Think it through!!  It’s not my problem.

At my Jeep-part line in the auto plant, there was a large chute next to my press where I dumped the cut-off edge trim and knockouts to feed into a grinder on the floor below, for recycling.  Because of increased production and normal deterioration, the grinder increasingly stopped working.

One day, the line’s material handler rolled over on his forklift and told me that the grinder had stopped working again, and not to feed the chute.  Then he disappeared.  I started throwing my stuff on the floor, quickly building up a huge pile.

My inspector/packer asked me why I didn’t just pull over a wire basket and put my scrap in it.  If I made it my problem, it would quickly become always my problem.  Worse, it would always be a problem.  If the fork-lift driver didn’t think to supply the basket, and objected to having to clean up the mess, he could complain to a supervisor.

Made aware of the mess, the supervisor could direct the maintenance department to get the grinder running. If maintenance couldn’t get the grinder running, they could pass the buck back to the supervisor.  If the grinder needed a capital budget for repair or replacement, the supervisor needed to chivvy management.

If I accepted responsibility, and performed the extra labor, none of that would happen.  It’s not my circus.  They’re not my monkeys.  My problem is that too many of these airheaded dipsticks don’t learn from experience.  Niceguys finish last.

Okay, now it’s your turn to bitch.  Come on, you know you want to.  Everybody works with or sees this shit.

True to form, I leave the old year with a rant, but I want to wish all of you the best in the coming New Year.   😀

Minutia V

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve been slowly working my way up through the list of Lee Child’s Jack Reacher books, a fact that those of you who had to wade through three of my “Book Reviews (?)”, are aware of.  I’ve read the first ten, with another ten ahead of me.  The next on my list is One Shot, the book that was made into a movie, and started me on this quest.

I recently picked up four books in the series, all on the same day.  I stopped on my way to the Farmers’ Market, to take some cash out of the bank.  The branch was having a fund-raising program, which included donated books for sale.  There was a decent copy of one title – for $2.

At the market, the wife and I visited the Used Book Lady.  She doesn’t often get Lee Child books, and they disappear quickly, but two had just come in, and she remembered my interest, so she held them for me.  She sells second-hand books $4/ea., or 3/$10.  Along with another author’s book, I now had two more at $3.33/ea.

On the way home, I stopped at a Chapters bookstore and bought the next one I needed in the series.  Piggybacking on the son’s discount card, the $10 book cost me $8.

I recently published a post, critical of the French culture and language – only because they deserve it.  The language illustrates how entitled and impatient the French are.  In English, we are content to watch, to see what the time is.  A French wristwatch is a montre-bracelet – a show me timepiece.  R.F.N!   👿

In English, we let the good times roll, and often translate that as “laisser rouler les bon temps.”  But in correct French, they insist, fait rouler des bon temps – make to roll (some of) the good times.

I’m glad to hear that stupidity still carries the death penalty.  The first selfie suicide (at least the first one I’ve heard of) has occurred.  Some macho goof in Mexico held a gun to his own head and his cell phone camera out at arm’s length, and snapped a photo.  The camera flash startled him, his finger involuntarily twitched, and the pic includes brain, bone and blood.

A tourist couple in Portugal, climbed over a barricade and past signs in three languages that said, Don’t Go Here, Fool!, to get a better view of the ocean, 140 meters ( 460 feet) below.  They backed up to the edge for a photo, witnesses say that one of them stumbled, and they both plunged off the cliff while their horrified children watched.

Not to be outdone, there was a large outdoor concert in Toronto this summer.  Somehow, two different types of recreational drugs got spilled on the ground, solid tablets, and powder-filled capsules.  Concert-goers snatched them up and swallowed them.  The final count was two dead, and thirteen in serious condition in hospital.  Not content to merely ingest unidentified chemicals, one of the dead is said to have swallowed at least ten of the pills.

And, the stupidity rolls on!  In an attempt to close the barn door after the horses have died, the police issued a request that anyone who purchased drugs at the concert, but had not consumed them, could surrender them to police, and no charges would be laid.  Orrrr…you could just throw them in the garbage, or flush them down the toilet, and no-one would know.

About a year ago, I included a story about an alcoholic, DUI Paki.  He’d had six or more convictions for drunk driving.  He’d caused several accidents, and driven away from most of them.  He threatened the cop who arrested him, in court, and told the judge that he would just go out and drive drunk again.  His excuse (there is no excuse for this behavior) was his first name.  He was Sukhvinder, and all the white kids had made fun of him and his name.

Recently, a drunken Paki named Sukhvinder drove an oversized dump truck onto a bridge on the main (only) major highway between Toronto and Buffalo, with the dump box fully raised, and ran into the overhead support beams.  The bridge was closed for four days, with heavy traffic going through residential areas, while the damage – considerable – was assessed.

I almost hate to think that this is just a coincidence in names of drunken Pakis.  If this is the same guy, we can now charge him with reckless endangerment and either throw him in jail, or deport him.  Maybe Sukhvinder is a common Paki name.  Maybe they all drive drunk.  I read a story about the legal problems of an actor named Vincent D’Onofrio.  Aha, says I.  I know him from Law and Order.  Apparently I didn’t.  Believe it or else, there’s another actor named Vincent D’Onofrio.

Speaking of names – again….  The Indian reservation just outside my home town, fronts on Lake Huron.  Its backside nestles against the Saugeen River.  The road signs on the highway declare it to be Chippewa Hill.  So the Indians in it are….Ojibwa??!

The little city on the other side of the Bruce Peninsula has two rivers which run into the bay.  The Sydenham, a good British stream, from the east, and the Pottawatomi from the west.  There is a Pottawatomi Indian tribe….just north of Kansas City, a thousand miles away.  Did one of them drunk-ride his horse all the way up here?

Flash Fiction #31

 

 

 

 

 

 

Whole Lotta Love

In 1968, four more young English lads got together and formed another band which strongly influenced popular music.  They united to form a group eventually known as Led Zeppelin.

With their psychedelic style and their drug usage heavily influencing each other, they only lasted 12 years as a group before the lifestyle killed their drummer.  Still, in that time they produced some memorable music.

45 years later, it’s still on the radio.  They’ve tried a few ‘Reunion’ concerts, but are getting a bit long in the tooth.  As Jimmy Page recently remarked, “Nowadays it’s more just a Stairway to Senility.”

 

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday picture as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

 

Thank you to all my visitors.  The best of the season to all of you, whatever Holiday you may choose to celebrate.   😀

 

BTW;  As previously threatened, and with help from Rochelle’s Flash Fictions to help pad out my numbers, this is my 400th post, and on Christmas, as predicted.  Anybody got any unused themes lying around to help get me to 500?   😕

(And good morning Peter and family.  Merry Christmas!  Enjoy the cookies and think of us.)    😉

The Night Before Christmas

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘Twas The Night Before Christmas

‘Twas the night before Xmas and all though the house,
The whole God-damned family was drunk as a souse.
Grandma and Grandpa were singing a song,
And the kid was in bed, pulling his dong.

Ma home from the cat house, and Pa out on bail,
Had just settled down for a nice piece of tail,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutter, and fell on my ass.
The moon blushing down on the new-fallen snow
Gave a nice wholesome lustre to the objects below.

When there to my old blood-shot eyes did appear
A rusty old sleigh, and eight mangy reindeer.
With a ruddy old driver, holding his dick,
I knew in a flash the old bastard was ‘Nick.’

Slower than snails his eight reindeer came,
And he swore and he bitched as he called them by name.
“Now Prancer, now Dancer, up on the walls:
Quick damn it, quick, or I’ll cut off your balls!”

Then up on the roof he scrambled and fell,
He came down the chimney like a bat out of Hell.
He staggered and stumbled as he ran out the door,
Tripped over his bag, and fell flat on the floor.

But I heard him exclaim, as he rode out of sight:
“Piss on you all – What a Hell of a night!”

***

A little girl is in line to see Santa. When it’s
her turn, she climbs up on Santa’s lap. Santa
asks, “What would you like Santa to bring you for
Christmas?”

The little girl replies, ” I want a Barbie and
G.I. Joe.”

Santa looks at the little girl for a moment and
says, “I thought Barbie comes with Ken”.

“No”, said the little girl, “She comes with
GI Joe, she fakes it with Ken.”

 

Just a little serving of Holiday Cheer.  Are you getting into the Spirit?  Or just into the spirits??  I’m sitting here, having a few with my big fat neighbor, Round John Virgin.  He has a pair of pet caribou – a male he calls Bruce The Moose, as well as Bruce’s mate, Olive, the other reindeer.  Be sure to take a big bag of ‘Bah, Humbug’ with you.  You’ll need it when you’re wrapping those last presents.  😯

Clip Art

A number of years ago, my buddy Maury Escher designed the item below for me.  Since I didn’t have any use for it, I put the plan drawing away and forgot it.  It’s got a little scuffed and aged over the years, but I suddenly realized that this thing would be perfect for displaying all the Blog Awards we’re receiving.

Perhaps if we got an engineer like Jim Wheeler to clean up the drawing, and maybe produce the fasteners, we might talk BrainRants into running a few off in his whiz-bang wood shop.  We’d have to be sure about where we mounted them, because once they are up, you can’t take them back down.

What do you think??  Anybody interested in a couple?  I’ve got a bunch of these boxes that I could ship them to you in.

Flash Fiction #30

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

OH WHAT A TANGLED WEB

The lawyer arrives at the Pearly Gates for judgement, confused.

“I’m not supposed to be here!  I’m only 37.”

St. Peter says, “No, we checked your billed hours, and apparently you’re 104”

***

….and there will be a $27 charge for photocopies, and an $8 charge for consumed office supplies, and a $100 registration fee for the use of our legal library….

“I had hoped that selling the little house that your mother left us would pretty much pay off our debts.  Will there be anything left when they’re done?  This law firm is sucking the life out of us.”

 

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday picture as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

 

Admittedly, it’s not all completely original work, but there was a lot of appreciation the last time I slagged lawyers, so I thought I’d throw in another laugh or two.  We all need a laugh or two where lawyers are involved   😀

Fellowship Of The Blog – Epilogue

 

Collecting My Thoughts

 

 

 

 

We had barely stepped from the car in Buffalo, when the wife found a bright, shiny, good-luck penny.  This pattern continued – five days, five pennies. We took it as a continuing omen.  Despite our Exhaustive and GPS adventures, all finally worked out well.  We brought the pennies home as a memorial of a fun trip, and used them to start an optimistic new collection for next year.

I gave the previous year’s coin collection to the wife before we started.  Women seem to be able to get rid of coins quicker and easier than guys.  She doled out a handful, including several pennies, to the young cashier at Cracker Barrel.  We explained that Canada had discontinued minting pennies.  She seemed to have a problem grasping the idea of round up/round down.

We told her that Canada had also changed its dollar, and two-dollar bills, to coins, and showed her one of each.  She cooed that she collected American coins, but had never seen these, so we gave them to her.

I was talking to a room clerk, and said that she must encounter lots of loud-mouthed assholes.  She told me of an afternoon when a man came in, with a cell phone jammed in his ear.  She already had several customers, and this guy was loud and obnoxious.  Apparently talking to someone about a girlfriend, every second word started with F…

When he stepped up to the counter, he was still ranting, and demanded a F…ing room.  She told him that she would deal with him when he was finished on his phone.  “I can F…ing handle booking a room.”  “Well, I can’t sir.  I’ll deal with you whenever you’re finished on the phone.”  Still bitching and F…ing, he stepped outside.  While he was still turning the air blue, another man stepped in, and asked to book a room.  “There you are sir!  Congratulations, you just got our last room.”  I can feel the Karma from here.

We took the wife’s laptop with us, because free Wi-Fi hotspots are now everywhere.  We could access the internet from our rooms, everywhere except in Buffalo, where we had to go to the office to connect, and sent emails back to the son and daughter.  We didn’t use the laptop, or request that Red Roof book us a room in Taylor (Detroit), and we were the ones who got the last room, and only because some guy phoned in and cancelled while I was standing at the desk, whining and crying.

After driving across the meadow in Ohio, when we were seriously lost, (it can be seen in a bird’s eye view on the map program, complete with cow shit) we suddenly came upon a hard right, 90° turn, which led us to Horst’s farmyard, house on the left of the road, barn and sheds on the right, and two teen boys playing in the road.

This track has run for 10 or 12 miles.  It can’t just be a farm lane! They looked at us like we were space aliens.  We had not seen another vehicle.  I don’t know what we would have done if we had.  This was the first spot big enough for two cars to pass, much less turn around to go back.  Peering past the boys, and a small knoll, we realized that the road took yet another hard left 90° turn.

 

 

 

 

 

I eased forward, and rolled down the window, and they approached the car.  “Excuse me; we seem to be really lost!  I’m looking for ‘Dog’s Body, Ohio.’  “Vell, vee arrr nut vrum arount ear.”  Of course you’re not!  I should have noticed the crop-circle landing spot in the pasture, for the UFO that I can zee see in the barn.  You’re the space aliens.  😯

 

 

 

 

Every Red Roof uses a decorative border of stones.  At each one, we picked up a small, interesting one as a memento.  Ohio’s geological range of rocks possibly exceeds Southern Ontario’s.  They all went into our decorative terrarium, sitting on the ‘singing sand’ we brought back from Myrtle Beach.

With the current collapse of oil prices, the cost of gasoline in the US ranged from a high of $3.89/gal = $1.13/liter, down to $2.81/gal =     Ȼ 81.7/liter.  When we returned to Canada, prices had dropped – all the way from $1.18, to $1.16/liter.

I forgot to check beginning/end odometer readings for the trip, but gasoline receipts indicate that we traveled about 1200 miles.  This is about the same as BrainRants’ recent ‘Big Move’, but where he did it all in one nail-biting, nerve-jangling 17 hour dash, we took five days, although there were some nail-biting, nerve-jangling moments.  We completely circumnavigated Lake Erie, something we’ve never done before.

I am pleased with those who have accompanied us on our virtual voyage.  I am happy for those who have visited, and read, and liked and commented.  I am most happy with those who have shown polite restraint, and not lobbed over-ripe fruit and vegetables.  I hope that Jim Wheeler has seen some, or all, of these accounts, because he is intrigued with the social aspects of travel, but is a bit restricted.  Thanx to all!  New subject coming up.   😀

 

It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Lawsuit

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Miss Honey Waste
Dog’s Body, OH

Dec. 14, 2014

Dearest John,

I went to the door today and the postman delivered a Partridge in a Pear Tree.  What a thoroughly delightful gift!  I couldn’t have been more surprised.

With deepest love and affection
Honey

***

Miss Honey Waste
Dog’s Body, OH

Dec. 15, 2014

Dearest John,

Today the postman brought your very sweet gift.  Just imagine – Two Turtle Doves.  I’m delighted at your very thoughtful gift.  They are just adorable.  You big silly, what next?

All my love
Honey

***

Miss Honey Waste
Dog’s Body, OH

Dec. 16, 2014

Dear John,

Oh!  Aren’t you the extravagant one! Now I really must protest.  I don’t deserve such generosity – Three French Hens.  They are just darling, but I must protest, you’ve been too kind.

Love Honey

***

Miss Honey Waste
Dog’s Body, OH

Dec. 17, 2014

Dear John,

Today the postman delivered Four Calling Birds.  Now, really, they’re beautiful, but don’t you think enough is enough?  You’re being far too romantic.

Affectionately
Honey

***

Miss Honey Waste
Dog’s Body, OH

Dec. 18, 2014

Dearest John,

What a surprise!  Today the postman delivered Five Golden Rings; one for every finger.  You’re just impossible, but I love it.  Frankly, all those birds squawking were beginning to get on my nerves.

All my love
Honey

***

Miss Honey Waste
Dog’s Body, OH

Dec. 19, 2014

Dear John,

When I opened the door there were actually Six Geese A-Laying on my front steps.  So you’re back to the birds again, huh?  Those geese are huge.  Where will I ever keep them?  The neighbors are complaining, and I can’t sleep through the racket. Please stop.

Cordially
Honey

***

Miss Honey Waste
Dog’s body, OH

Dec. 20, 2014

John:

What’s with you and these fucking birds?  Seven Swans A-Swimming??  What kind of God-damned joke is this?  There’s bird shit all over the house, and they never stop with the racket.  I can’t sleep at night, and I’m a nervous wreck.  It’s not funny, so stop with the fucking birds.

Sincerely
Honey

***

Miss Honey Waste
Dog’s Body, OH

Dec. 21, 2014

Okay Buster:

I think I prefer the birds.  What in Hell am I going to do with Eight Maids A-Milking?  It’s not enough with all those birds and the Maids, but they had to bring along their God-damned cows!  There’s shit all over the lawn, and I can’t move in my own house.  What are you doing to me?  Just lay off me, smart-ass!

 

***

Miss Honey Waste
Dog’s Body, OH

Dec. 22, 2014

Hey Shithead:

What are you?  Some kind of fucking sadist?  Now there’s Nine Pipers Piping.  And Christ, do they ever play!  They’ve never stopped chasing those maids since they got here yesterday morning.  The cows are upset and they’re stepping all over those screeching birds.  What am I going to do?  The neighbors have started a petition to evict me.

You’ll Get Yours!
Honey

***

Miss Honey Waste
Dog’s Body, OH

Dec. 23, 2014

You Rotten Prick:

Now there’s Ten Ladies Dancing.  I don’t know why they call these sluts Ladies.  They’ve been balling those Pipers all night long.  Now the cows can’t sleep, and they’ve got diarrhea.  My living room is a river of shit!  The Commissioner of Buildings has subpoenaed me to give reason why the house shouldn’t be condemned. I’m going to sic the police on you. One who means it!

Venomously
Honey

***

Miss Honey Waste
Dog’s Body, OH

Dec. 24, 2014

Listen Fuckhead:

What’s with the Eleven Lords A-Leaping on those Maids and Ladies?  Some of those broads will never walk again.  Those Pipers ran through the Maids, and have been committing sodomy with the cows.  All twenty-three of the birds are dead.  They’ve been trampled to death in the orgy.  I hope you’re satisfied, you rotten, vicious swine.

Your sworn enemy
Honey

***

From The Legal Offices Of DEWEY, CHEATHAM and HOWE
Dog’s Anus, OH

Dec. 26, 2014

Dear Sir:

This is to acknowledge your latest gift of Twelve Fiddlers Fiddling, which you have seen fit to inflict on our client, one Miss Honey Waste.  The destruction, of course, was total.

All correspondence should come to our attention.  If you should attempt to reach Miss Waste at the Happy Dale Sanitarium, the attendants have instructions to shoot you on sight.  With this letter, please find attached a warrant for your arrest.

Cordially

I. M. A. Badger

Flash Fiction #29

 

 

 

 

 

 

Teenage Wasteland

Halfway down the hill was a small clearing, set like a saucer.  The local parents knew of it because most of them had been there in their teens, to puff a prohibited cigarette, or for a bit of necking and furtive fumbling.

Nowadays, parents and police alike, wondered what the town’s teens were doing up there, but the trees still grew thick.

Last week, a torrential downpour had spilled water over the edge, causing a minor flood and scouring out the dell.

Now the evidence lay in plain sight at the base.  Not exactly Sodom and Gomorra.  What to do??!

 

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story

Religism

   

Webster’s Dictionary defines ‘Religism’ as animosity, intolerance, conflict, oppression or bigotry towards religions or belief systems.

Archon’s Street-Usage Dictionary, based on keen observation of desperately insecure individuals and groups, defines it as opposing, doubting, not holding, or even merely QUESTIONING any religion or particular set of beliefs.

It is a particularly useful concept and term for the most adamantly religious, to allow them to hold and foment the most extreme acts and views.  They couch the holding of every position except theirs as an attack, to justify outrageous actions.

He who takes offence, when none is offered, is a fool! – Brigham Young

Groups like the Taliban, Al Qaeda, Boko Haram and ISIS view the very existence of the peaceful, democratic freedom of Western society as an affront to their particular narrow view, and claim that it needs to be met with IEDs, torture and beheadings, to ‘defend’ the Muslim faith.

At home, it is only the rule of law which protects all segments of society, and prevents some of the more Fundamentalist Christian groups and individuals from going that far.  I feel that thugs like the Westboro Baptist Church should be weeded out, root and branch.  I grant them the right to hold their noxious opinions, but not to disrupt polite society by ‘defending’ them with graceless attacks and accusations.

I recently read a quote from the President of the Christian Screenwriters’ Guild.  The very existence of this group says, “We’re better than you, and we’re going to fight for the right to keep telling you that.”  They’re the kind who refuse to be inclusive, and view any attempt to speak of plural ‘Happy Holidays’, and add the year-end celebrations of any other Faiths, as Religism, and an attack on Christmas.

The somewhat dated quote, from Barbara Pelosi said, “I find it beyond naïve, to convince myself that the folks who are lapping up The Da Vinci Code are on a ‘search for truth.’ They’re not. They’re on a crusade to validate their own rejection of the authority of Christ and the Church.”

As an analogy, which she and many other Christians would refuse to accept: – Barack Obama is the President of the United States. Within legal limits, his word is law. He is the Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces, and his orders must be obeyed. He has the authority!

But wait. I live in Canada, a completely separate country. I don’t have to obey him, or even respect him, and the truth is, our rejection of him and ‘his authority’ doesn’t make my Prime Minister the Devil, nor do I live in Hell. People like Pelosi have convinced themselves that the ‘authority of Christ and the Church’ is universal and valid, and any rejection is an attack. They simply can’t accept that their faithfully believed “TRUTH” could be wrong, or anyone else’s, right.

If Christians go to other countries to convince ‘misguided’ natives to accept the Christian faith, they are viewed as kindly missionaries.  If the natives object to these interfering do-gooders, and they end up in prison, or dead, they achieve the exalted status of Martyrs.

If people of other faiths attempt to do the same thing to Christians, they are insultingly dismissed as ‘Heathens’, and, until a couple of hundred years ago, would have been tortured and burned at the stake as heretics, by a Church ‘defending itself from an attack on its narrow set of beliefs.’

In a recent MSN article about the 20^th anniversary of the movie Pulp Fiction, the line uttered by Samuel L. Jackson’s character, just before he killed someone, was quoted.  “Ezekiel 25:17. The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men.”

As an English language purist, I questioned whether the word should have been “iniquities”, so I looked it up in ‘one of my Bibles’.  Ezekiel 25:17 does not exist!  Nor does Ezekiel 17:25.  They say that you can get people to agree with almost anything, if you tell them that, “Benjamin Franklin said it.”  Evangelical Christians just claim, “It’s in the Bible.” whether it is or not.  Pay no attention to that deluded person behind the curtain of a “Holy Book!”

 

The Skeptic’s Fate

The miraculous tale that you tell

I don’t credit.  I’m under no spell.

I don’t swallow events

when there’s no evidence.

So I guess that I’m going to Hell.

 

P.S.

English-speaking Christians have ‘The Bible.’  Sometimes it is ‘The Holy Bible’.  In selecting the picture of the Koran above, I found that English-speaking Muslims have ‘ The Koran, The Holy Koran The Noble Koran, The Glorious Koran, and a companion study volume, whose title firmly states, “There Are No Contradictions in the Koran!”  I am underwhelmed by religion.  🙄