Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Obligatory Falwell Eulogy


I only wish several other huckstering jackholes would quickly follow suit. I'm having trouble deciding how to sum up my feelings so....

I'm having a headline contest:

Eulogize Falwell in two sentences. Here are some examples to get you started.

Falwell dead. Oh dear, I think I broke a nail.

Falwell dies. World declared slightly less slimy.

Falwell is dead. Self-esteem of pigs seen to rise as comparisons die with him.

You get the idea.

If you prefer a very nice longer version, try here.

Monday, May 14, 2007

Enough Already!





According to this Reuters story, The Hindu God Khatu Shyam, a.k.a. Local version of Lord Krishna, has appeared on the wings of a butterfly. Do I have to say it? Get hold of yourself man! You’re worshipping a BUG! From the way it’s holding its wings, I hate to burst your bubble even further, but that’s a MOTH, not a butterfly.

Personally, I think it looks more like God.


God from Monty Python and the Holy Grail that is.


While I’m on the subject, that face in the bloody 10-year old cheese sandwich looks more like Mae West to me than the alleged Virgin Mary.














On second thought, maybe it’s Betty Grable














Or maybe it’s Twiggy













Or maybe it’s Madeline Kahn (Thanks to missginsu.com for this pic. Saved me some work)













Or Maybe it's Bernadette Peters













I know, it’s Madonna! No relation.














Do any of these women look like a First Century Israeli woman to you? How about the chunk of white toast? I don’t want to think about this too much, but the 10-year old cheese might smell a bit like a First Century dessert dweller, but that’s as far as the resemblance goes.

And that “Nunbun”, that is supposed to look like Mother Theresa? The Hell you say. It’s a Smurf!










Enough already!

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not stupid enough to think that there won’t always be zotzbrains seeing their godhead in a lump of dried-out cat barf or something. I mean enough of the damned news coverage. A water stain under a bridge and a bunch of silly idiots giving it flowers is not news. There have been silly idiots since the dawn of time. Don’t encourage potato chip inspection and other pathetic bids for attention by covering this stuff as straight news. Besides, they’re wasting food when others are starving.

If you haven’t had enough already, check out the alleged Virgin Mary gold nugget holding the Baby Zoidberg

Or…Create your own!

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Oprium


Wow, I really have been busy lately. I completely missed one of those Moments in History. This was one of those events with Serious Social Significance. Not only did it herald an important milestone in the birth of a scam, it was also the Moment that Oprah took another self-confident and deliberate step down the ladder of depraved megalomania.

On reflection, I might not have missed it completely. I remember Oprah’s voice coming out of a TV one day recently, saying something like, “If you don’t tune in to my next show, you’ll miss what just may be the most important hour of television ever.” I kid you not. Normally, that would be enough to get my attention because I’d want to know what that old Maven of Manipulation was up to. As it was, I must have had too much on my mind. I tuned her out with no more than a muttered “Get over yourself!”

And so it was that I almost missed her latest slide down the scale of shameless huckstering. One moment, she was endorsing such hacks as Dr. Phil, and such mediocre talents as Tyler Perry, the next, she’s aligning herself with the likes of “Dr.” Wayne Dyer, and the whole asylum of bullshit-shoveling ilk at Hay House. I’m talking of course about the day she bestowed her Seal of Approval on “The Secret”.

Oh boy! A new tent show is in town! Can we go ma?

So what’s “The Secret”? Well, apparently for whatever bite these hucksters are charging, you can find the secret way to delude yourself into feeling happy, when all around you, there are real reasons to be discontent, angry, stressed out, or dissatisfied.

I might never have known about this latest New Age style emporium of pie in the sky, had it not been for some brilliant prose here at Theriomorph, and some very witty near-poetry here at Skeptico. I have been left very little to add to such rapier-like penning (typing?), except to say that it warms my heart. What can I say? Finding reasons to believe that there might still be hope for the Human Race is what makes me happy.

The first person to say something like, “If The Secret doesn’t work for you, you’re just not doing it right” and mean it, gets a bonk on the noggin with the big Clown Hammer. I swear, I’ll find you!