CAT DISPLAYS EXCELLENT THEOLOGICAL KNOWLEDGE

Bible Corner

This is my favourite scripture of the moment, from 2 Samuel 18:9 -

Absalom was riding on his mule, and the mule went under the thick branches of a great oak, and his head caught fast in the oak, and he was suspended between heaven and earth, while the mule that was under him went on.

Brilliant stuff. Writing like this is clearly the product of inhaling too closely next to a Norman Wisdom film.

There's a happy end to all this, you'll be glad to know, when a guy called Jo'ab shows up:

And he [Jo'ab] took three javelins in his hand and thrust them into the heart of Absalom while he was still alive in the oak. And ten young men, Joab’s armor-bearers, surrounded Absalom and struck him and killed him. 2 Samuel 18:14-15

Is it just me or is this overkill? The guy's hanging from a branch by his head and it takes ten people to kill him. Jo'ab could have used his ten young men in a far more profitable way, perhaps using them as dancers or prostitutes, or even retrain them to enter the flourishing food business in early Iron Age Palestine.  They could have called themselves Kosher Katering, The marketing writes itself, doesn't it?

Presentation

Shamed out of my sleep by dreams, I awoke to find myself on a Procrustean bed of filth. I was in what I thought was a hotel room. I had a vague sensation that my name meant something but I could find no certainties. I had a less vague sensation that I had been here before. But for the moment my worldview was entirely solipsistic: I could not comprehend anyone else existing. I closed my eyes and urinated bliss through my underpants. Warmth, exuded and spread and I lost consciousness. 

A timeless period passed and I found myself in an auditorium with a backstage pass stapled to my forehead. And then... clarity: Allah had held a match to my pilot light and illuminated my world. I remember... I remembered the day I pawned my dignity and stepped onto this endless treadmill. This was why I was here today. I intended to give a presentation on Nihilistic Angst in the Children’s TV Programme Pingu. I had no knowledge of the subject yet felt fully confident to grant an ill-informed opinion and have it accepted as zeitgeist defining brilliance by London-based hubristic twat-nozzles.

The act before me was a TV nutritionist plugging her new diet book, Wank Yourself Thin. It entailed eating only smoky bacon crisps for 10 weeks and then masturbating the calories out through your genitals. A demonstration ensued, which I was only dimly aware of. As she worked herself into a state of pork ecstasy gush flap, in the wings I myself inhaled 12 bongs at once and bench-pressed gravity in anticipatory numbness. I then heard a name over the PA system and realised it was probably mine and that I should start doing something. I strode onto the stage like a cocksure tit and immediately began high-fiving invisible people who my imagination had created to keep me entertained. This lasted for about 15 minutes. The real audience thought I was being ironic and whooped like eggplants. I then stepped up to the microphone and blew some lung air across my vocal cords. Shrugging off originality, (a wheezing old carthorse) I larded my conversation with buzzwords cribbed from a Sunday Supplement article about non-floating Hasidic Rabbis. A surprising amount of overlap in each area. Reasons for this: small world shrinking to no hemisphere; words/experience declining likewise in proportion as existence condenses to a quantum singularity.

After enunciating this encyclopaedia of drivel, I unbox tautology and dandle a ventriloquist’s dummy on my knee (likeness of Unwin in spats), and hold court to the applause of idiots. We click together, Unwin and I. They ache for my words (and Unwin’s, but his words are mine). They are talent vampires seeking sustenance and I let them feed.

But on what?

I only provide milk placebos.

They still starve.

I am fraudulent. 

After mashing unbuoyant Jews and bolshy penguins into a steaming pile of inanity, I reached the shank of my presentation. This with straight face I state:

“Pingu is a sick fuck who shits bourgeois edification in a dish and pisses ennui up against a rapidly melting igloo.”

The igloo, I reveal, represents the melting of the polar icecaps (the shit in a dish lacks a precise referent). This was accompanied by a PowerPoint slide of the planet earth and underneath the words GLOBAL WARMING in 72-point Helvetica Bold. The audience loved this visual stimulus I provided. I am bukkakeing them with stupid and they gurn with pleasure as it lands on their faces.

They cheer me like I’m God.

In return I scream unintelligibly into the microphone for 20 minutes.

They cheer me for that, as well.

I continued to receive the adulation of the audience, for no reason other than stringing together impressive sounding polysyllables and wanking up a storm of fustian slag bonnets. I had finished dabbing paints at my tripe easel and now wanted to leave the building. Corner eyed, I noticed that Unwin had unsurprisingly come to life and had begun threatening violence in revenge for me boxing him up like a musical instrument and taking him on tour.  Tiny arms whirl pathetically in a sad tantrum. He looked like an angry 85-year-old toddler. Feeling pity, I promised to give him a backstory and royalties in return for blowjobs. Unwin agreed to this and climbed back into his box (little legs scrabbling for footholds). I then drew directions to the hotel on my face and lost consciousness.

I awoke sometime later in the same bed and the same room as before. Again I could not remember who I was. I had an uneasy feeling about what would happen next as a dam burst in my bladder.

“Life is a circle except when it isn’t” (ancient proverb)

NOAH'S COCK

God bless you!

I've been continuing my bible study and I've discovered many interesting things about the good book and how it is still utterly relevant to modern life. Take this gem from Deuteronomy 22:8, where the CREATOR OF THE UNIVERSE dispenses this sage advice -


When you build a new house, make a parapet around your roof so that you may not bring the guilt of bloodshed on your house if someone falls from the roof.

In accordance with this edict I'm now building a parapet on my roof, where I currently hold a number of small children against their will. When one of them plummets to their death to escape my sadistic cruelty, I can now have peace of mind that no blame will fall at my door (unlike the aforementioned children).

Being so moved by this passage, I've composed a prayer to thank the Lord for this indispensable piece of wisdom:

Our Father,
Who art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy name.
We give thanks for the advice
On architectural add-ons.
And wait with keen interest
for more design tips
In the near future.
Cheers.


I've also found this passage in the Gospel of Jane. It shows Jesus of Nazareth's characteristic sense of fair play and ability to ask difficult questions.

The following day Jesus and the disciples were in Capernaum, a town in Galilee, where they were preparing for the evening meal. As mealtime approached, Jesus did ask his disciples a question:

'A man has two sons. To the first he gives 20 gold coins. To the second he gives 50 gold coins. Which son has the more money?'

The disciples answered, 'the second is richer, my Lord'.

'Wrong!' said Jesus. 'The third son is richer. He has a palace and a sports car.'

'But you didn't even mention him. How are we supposed to...'

'Shut up', said Jesus. 'Now, where's my fucking dinner?'


What a douche.

 

I've just watched Avatar (I'm always up to date with new releases in the world of moving pictures - or "talkies" as they're now commonly known).

 I thought it was a good film.

What you might not realise is that it was partly based on a little known John Donne sonnet called  "Parabolic Eco-Wank With Tallish Blue Freaks".

Fascinating stuff.

FAST AND BULBOUS

I've just been reading Now magazine (I can't help it, I'm addicted. I'm scared. I'm really, really scared). It was an article about diets. The person in question, Fanny Appleyard, gave her moving story on how she managed to reduce her weight. The headline reads:

I LOST 3 STONE IN 17 DAYS. HOW? I CONTRACTED DYSENTERY.
 

THINGS YOU DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT FOUCAULT

THINGS YOU DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT FOUCAULT
No 1.

Foucault would play Monopoly only if he could be the Top Hat.

Really small minded, I know. You think he would be above that sort of thing. Apparently when he lost he would dismiss it as only one arbitrary result from a multitude of possible "meta" results, with none baring any relation to reality, given the unstable nature of language and its inability to depict an external referent in a post-Cartesian infrastructure gobshite.