Flying Spaghetti Monster an imperialist plot by the military-industrial complex?

FSM manifestation over the Persian Gulf

The rocket-like rise of the radical new religion of Pastafarianism has seemed, at times, to be a much-needed antidote to the innumerable arteriosclerotic orthodoxies which hold us helpless in their grasp. But today new footage has surfaced, footage that leads us to question all we know about the so-called scrappy little altera-faith that could.

Is the Flying Spaghetti Monster and, indeed, all of Pastafarianism, nothing more than another control-minded plot of the Cryptocracy? As this devastating footage shows, manifestations of the so-called Noodly One in the sky have been created as part of a program using C-130 American military aircraft and their so-called “Angel Defence” system. Truly, it is a shockingly Orwellian society in which we find ourselves, where even the alternative beliefs are simply those manufactured by the government to distract us from the chafing of our chains.

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snowglobes for sadists

Snowglobe! 

Stole this from Curtis @ Can’t See the Forest, obviously another sadist, albeit more closety about it than me. Apparently if you shake it just right, the little girl vomits.

Winterpeg wimps out

Winterpeg 

There are those among you who possess the hidden knowledge, the innermost secrets of raincoasterdom.

Yes. There are those among you who know that I have lived in Winterpeg. Indeed, one of the earliest pictures of raincoaster and her sistren shows them standing atop of a snowbank. This would not be remarkable, except that the snowbank was sufficiently tall that we were at the same height as the power lines. Verily, proximity to power has long since been superceeded by becoming the power itself.

Some additional perspective: Once I fell through the crust of snow on my shortcut home from school and nearly froze to death; I was in the middle of the field for several hours, in snow up to my armpits, unable to climb out, growing increasingly weak, and the sun had long since gone down, when the Avon Lady, a figure who looms in my memory and in legend as large and as benevolent as all the saints ever invented by those heathen Catholics, heard my plaintive yelps and rescued me.

Talk about generating brand loyalty; my mother doubled her orders from that day onward.

In any case, from The Winnipeg Sun via Fark comes sad news: it appears that the current occupants of Winterpeg are perhaps more Snowbirdian than Winterpeggian in inclination, and have winterfunked it.

They have cancelled the Polar Bear Swim; it’s too damn cold.

Now, you’d think, if you were as smart as you look, that they’d know, from the fact that it’s called a Polar Bear Swim, and the fact that it is held in Winnipeg, and the fact that it is, in fact and in actuality, held in DECEMBER, that it would be a mite frosty. Indeed, if you did figure thusly, you’d be a helluva lot smarter than the students and faculty at the University of Manitoba who set this up, then bailed, despite the handy proximity of several special-occasion hot tubs, trucked in for the event.

While the fact that the temperature onsite is estimated to be -32 Celsius lends some credibility to the idea that these people can, in fact, think, still it must be said that you’d figure anybody stupid/drunk enough to sign up for this gonad-shrivelling stunt must be stupid/drunk enough to go through with it.

Even without the chill factor I can see that they have no balls.
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quote o’ the day: there are three kinds of men

Will Rogers, yo!Stolen, again, from Archie’s Archive (or is that aerchie’s aerchive? I can’t do Latin on this keyboard, I don’t think Firefox supports it!).

There are three kinds of men:

  1. The ones that learn by reading.
  2. The few who learn by observation.
  3. The rest of them have to pee on the electric fence.

~~Will Rogers

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electronik supersonik

via Fark. How did this piece of unrestrained glam rock Boraticism and bad Engerish escape me for this long? Long live Molvania!

Hey baby, wake up from your asleep.
We have arrived on to the future and the whole world is become…

Electronik, supersonik. Supersonik, electronik.

Hey baby, ride with me away.
We doesn’t have much time.
My blue jeans is tight,
So on to my love rocket climb.
Inside tank of fuel is not fuel but love,
Above us, there is nothing above
But the stars above.
All systems gone, prepare for downcount!
5
4
3
1!
Offblast!

Fly away in my space rocket.
You no need put money in my pocket.
The door is closed I just lock it.
(Hah!) I put my spark plug in your socket (Hah! Ha ha hah!)

The sun in sky is bright like fire!
You and me gets higher and higher.
Heart of communication fire!
Only thing can stop us is flat tire.

(Hah! Hah! Ha ha hah!)

Hey love crusader, I want to be your space invader.
For you I will descend the deepest moon crater.
I is most stronger than darth vapor.
Obey me, I is your new dictator.

For you is Venus, I am Mars.
With you I is more richer than all the czars.
Make a wishes on a shooting stars, then for you I will play on my cosmic guitars!

Ladies and gentlemen, fasten your beltseats.
We has commenced our descent.
I trust you enjoy this flight as much as you enjoy this accent.

Now, back on earth, is time for down splash.
Into sea of eternal glory my spaceship crash.
People have arrived for to cheer me from near and far.
And as I bloat, I open door and shout:
I am world’s biggest washed-up superstar!
(Supersonik, electronik)

As for sure as the sun rises in the west, of all the singers and poets on earth, I am the bestest.
Come, let me put ring of jupiter on your finger.
Then, like a smell around you, I will forever linger.

Okay, is time for end, no more will I sang.
Let me take you back in time, I want for you to experience big bang.
Long live space race, long live Molvania.

 

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