Live a good life.
If there are gods and they are just, then they will not care how devout you have been, but will welcome you based on the virtues you have lived by.
If there are gods, but unjust, then you should not want to worship them.
If there are no gods, then you will be gone, but will have lived a noble life that will live on in the memories of your loved ones.
City in Ontario may be the most miserable in the US.
Can you tell me what’s wrong with that sentence? 😯
THE PIPES, THE PIPES ARE CALLING
They called one company ‘Sider Plumbing.’ Putting siding on homes or buildings occurred long after surnames were assigned. This is not likely an English name. Here in ex-Berlin, it seems that it might be German, but research tells me that it (used to be spelled Seider) is Yiddish/Jewish, meaning prayer book.
Less than a week later, they called another, ‘Teahen Plumbing.’ I know what a peahen is. She is a female peafowl. Only the males are properly called peacocks. What is a ‘Teahen?’ It’s a surname that began as Teahan. Irish (Kerry): reduced Anglicized form of Gaelic Ó Téacháin ‘descendant of Téachán’, a personal name probably derived from teitheachán ‘fugitive.’. Many regard plumbers as crooks. It is not a name for one to brag about.
If you want to know why we are here or what your ultimate, divine purpose is, you should accept that the answer is either 1) unknowable or 2) nonexistent. Either way, demanding that your worldview include answers to these types of questions, completely unvetted by reason, is childish and irresponsible. The universe doesn’t owe you answers and is not obligated to make sense to the likes of you. These questions will never be answered (even if an answer actually exists). Stop pretending you’re important enough to deserve an answer, and that you’ve found the answer when you haven’t.
Like Father – Like Son
Once upon a time in the dark mists of the past, I published a vignette about how I inconvenienced a gold-crucifix-wearing young woman into removing a shopping cart she’d abandoned in a handicap parking space. Channeling his Father, the son recently got a chance to duplicate the feat.
Coming home after a long night at work, he stopped at the local supermarket. Even with a stiff/sore leg from a hard shift, and a Handicap Permit in the car, he didn’t park in any of the reserved spots, nearest the store, instead, pulling into the next one in a row.
As he came out, a man ahead of him pushed a cart with a green, plastic You-Pack bin, and a bag of groceries into the middle of a handicap spot. Abandoning the cart there, he carried his haul to the next lane, and put them in the trunk.
The son was aghast! “You ignorant, arrogant, selfish, thoughtless asshole! He grabbed the cart, bumped it over a curb, placed it broadside in front of the guy’s car, and stood beside it, glaring. The Asshole came bustling out of his car.
“What the Hell are you doing?”
“I’m abandoning this cart here, just like you abandoned it in a handicap spot!”
“What do you expect me to do about it?”
“Put it away, where it belongs, either in the cart corral, or back in the store!”
“I’m busy. I have places to go.”
“I’m not. I just got off work. I have all day.”
It turned out that Mr. Abandonment Issues wasn’t nearly as busy as he claimed. The son detests confrontation. He said, “I was shaking all the time – but it felt so good.” Not bad for a second-generation Atheist! 😎 I am so proud of him!
Church: “Our church is on fire! Please send help.”
911: “All our engines are busy helping tax-paying customers. Have you tried praying?
When the wife’s OCD spills over into her cooking, (Less and less these days. I am making more and more one-pan meals) the exactly correct utensil must be used. We can’t measure out one cup of milk in a graduated two-cup measuring cup. We can’t whip up a small amount of sauce in an easily-accessible, large bowl. And cutting boards…… 😯
I just donated three lightly-used cutting boards to Goodwill. How many do we have left??! Is it one? Three? Eleven? Or Oh-My-God??! That’s a trick question. The real answer is somewhere between eleven, and Oh-My-God.
We have them in pine, fir, maple, ash, poplar and bamboo. We have soft plastic, rigid nylon, glass, and Plexiglas. We have them with holes, and hang-up handles, but nowhere to hang them. We have them with rubber feet, so that they don’t slip on a counter. We have them from a tiny, pâté or soft cheese server, barely larger than my palm, up to one that covers the double kitchen sink and lets us carve a 25 lb. Christmas turkey.