Most subjects I have covered, except jacking off grandpa. I think.

I hope I have helped all these fine people to find what they were looking for.

My grandfather was born in 1896 as the third son of Lord Fitzright, the Earl of Cranthorpe. Lord Fitzright was at the time her Majesty’s ambassador in Paris. Not much is known of the early years of my grandfather other than that he was a bright student with a knack for languages and athletics. At a very young age he could insult the French, Russian and German dignitaries in their own tongues and could run away sufficiently hard enough to escape a brutal beating. Needless to say he was the apple in my great-grandfather’s eye. As a precaution the Lord insisted my grandfather was to be trained early and thoroughly in handling pistols and swords for the duels that were sure to come on his path.

At age sixteen my grandfather had traveled and studied all over Europe, but he became interested in America. Europe in that time was an old moloch of established structure and almost buried under the weight of its own history. He sent his father a formal letter requesting his seed money so he could book passage aboard the newly finished jewel of the Atlantic, Titanic. Lord Fitzright denied him this, as he felt my grandfather was too young for such an adventure.

My grandfather booked passage anyway, but his limited funds only allowed him a third class ticket. As he was used in dealing with plebeians this did not pose a problem for him.

In Portsmouth he met a young man named Jack Dawson. This Jack was as determined as my grandfather to travel with the Titanic to the Americas, and in waiting for the ship to leave the two became friends. Jack didn’t have a penny to his name, and as the 10th of April 1912 drew closer my grandfather took pity on Jack. After all, coming from a privileged family he soon enough would get his chance to make his mark.

Knowing full well that Jack never would accept his ticket if he offered it to him, my grandfather proposed a pokergame after a drinking binge with Jack and made sure he lost the final hand, including his ticket. In retrospect, this may not have entirely been based on benevolence as he had developed a passionate affair with a nice piece of blond strumpet.

The Titanic steamed off to its meeting with doom without my grandfather, but with Jack Dawson. My grandfather soon forgot all about Jack.

The rest is cinematic history.

It’s not hard to imagine that people through the ages have given supernatural powers the blame or the glory for the phenomena outside their limited circle of illumination. The Vikings, the Greek and the Romans had pantheons full of gods for every occasion. Those belief systems are now a mere footnote in history. God and allah are merely the latest incarnations of man’s vivid imagination about that part of the universe he can not yet grasp. If reason prevails god and allah will be a footnote too in centuries to come. One can only hope.

Do Christians and Muslims deserve my respect because they have a belief system which I don’t share? I don’t think so. If over a billion of people believe that something is holy and true it doesn’t automatically make it holy or true.

People once thought that the sun revolved around the earth, and this belief was made into a religious doctrine because the bible states that “the LORD set the earth on its foundations; it can never be moved.” This doctrine was proven wrong and it has taken the Catholic church 400 years to somewhat come to terms with that, all the while demanding respect for a belief that is and was evidently false.

Science is slowly chipping away the foundation of most belief systems. The sun does not revolve around the earth? We concede, but the rest of our belief is truth. Creationism has no evidence whatsoever, and evolution has more evidence everyday? Let us adjust our views to give evolution a place in god’s creation, because the rest of our belief remains truth. For a logical mind, this kind of reasoning is maddening.

When we discuss any subject but religion, the discussion can be fruitful. Person A says this, person B says that, A states evidence, B agrees or disagrees. When we discuss religion however person A states something, but also informs person B: “You may or may not agree with me, but we can not discuss this any further because the subject is holy and very dear to me. If you attack my position you are not being respectful.” So person B has to shut up because person A has a belief system? I think not.

So if you are asking for respect, you can have the respect I give to any fellow human being. If you ask for my respect because you believe in something which you can’t prove to me, I just think you need a better flashlight.

@GuntherGreen

The second Twitter String™ of the day is a fairly recent one and comes from the mind and stream of @GuntherGreen. It’s a perfect example of making the most of a very bad idea, with a grand finale. Enjoy.

I’m going to start a gang called the Pilgrims. We’re going to drive a Plymouth and wear buckles on our hats.

We got buckles on our motherfuckin’ hats, yo.

Hats. Buckles. Awesome.

It’s not the size of the hat buckle, it’s what you do with it.

I beseech thee, is it true what they sayeth? Why hath Master Standish adorned his headwear with such grand buckles? Compensating mayhaps?

Follow @GuntherGreen on Twitter (as if you didn’t already), and check out his Favstar page. Buckle up.

@ncguk

The first Twitter String is from one of my favorite Tweeters, @ncguk. Hailing from the UK (hence his Sooty avatar) @ncguk almost always succeeds in showing the absurdity in the simplest things. Below is a string of jokes he made when thinking of a common saying. Enjoy.

I don’t understand why the Pope would shit in the woods. Wouldn’t he use a toilet like everyone else? It just doesn’t make sense to me.

Unless he really enjoys crapping in forests, and I suppose as God’s messenger on Earth he must have a few mental problems, it’s just odd.

It’s impractical as much as anything, hoisting up those unwieldy vestments and steadying his mitre while he squats to deliver the big one.

He’s just making life difficult for himself, particularly when you think that, with both hands occupied, he must struggle to use the Andrex.

Maybe it’s a papal tradition. Perhaps there’s a ceremony beforehand.

And then there’s the danger that, mid-def, he’ll be eaten by a bear.

My point is, watch out for the nettles, Ratzinger.

If you don’t follow @ncguk on Twitter yet, I suggest you start now. Or check him out on Favstar first. Quick!

The Duggar Family posing in front of their farm

Jim Bob, a failed politician, is glad to have found his niche in breeding and exploiting children.
“Breeding children is not what we originally intended to do with this farm,” Jim Bob says. “At first it was just a by-product of marriage. But since we sold the first series to the Discovery Channel it is our core business. We all do our bit.”

When Jim Bob claims that all the children pitch in he is not exaggerating. The elder daughters help breastfeed the young kids, while the elder sons man the pumping station in the barn where Jim Bob’s semen is extracted and stored.
“After the eight kid I noticed that Michelle was not as tight as before,” Jim Bob says, “so we had to shop around for a solution. I went with a BullSucker 2000 with a custom made suction cylinder. The boys really seem to like it too.”

At first Jim Bob and Michelle planned to let their children breed amongst themselves to make sure the fertility and righteous genes were kept within the line, but current so-called ‘laws’ prevent that.
“If it was good enough for the kids of Adam and Eve to start breeding with each other I don’t see the problem,” Jim Bob says. “But the judge just wouldn’t listen to reason. So I guess we have to branch out and start crossbreeding.”

Their eldest son is the first one to venture on this path and is expecting his first child with his cousin Anna.

“I really like Anna.” Michelle Duggar chimes in. “I hear she has conceived the child the natural way, instead of getting rammed up the vagina with a semen filled EasyWhip after church every Sunday.”

Added Jim Bob, “That’ll do, Michelle, that’ll do.”