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Q. Why was the blonde staring at the frozen orange juice container?
A. The container brought to mind the pleasant Sunday breakfasts with her mother, in the days before she took her life.
Q. How many blondes does it take to change a light bulb?
A. Margot preferred darkness.
Q. How can you tell if a blonde has been using your typewriter?
A. The nicotine-stained keys and dried tears.
Q. Why did the blonde drive into the ditch?
A. She was overtaken with despair. No one was awaiting her arrival.
Dunno what the fuss is about snakes, we just go out and catch our own. Round here we have some seriously nice Tigers, with seriously un-nice bites ...
The poison is particularly deadly, the up side is their fangs are quite small so a bad bite is unusual but still needs to be treated tout suite.
Neighbor got bitten on toe, delayed treatment, got damaged heart as result, which killed her a few years later.
I was thinking recently about the concept of fiction.
When writing was first developed, it was mostly used for ordinary, practical purposes. Keeping track of agricultural production, making contracts, complaining about the quality of copper ingots, and so forth.
At some point, someone created the first work of fiction. Like, they deliberately wrote down an account of people and events which never actually happened, for the purpose of entertainment rather than commerce.
And whoever first read that… were they confused by this? Like “So, you’re telling me that none of this ever happened? This person you’re describing never existed?”
And they’d have been like “That is correct.”
And the other person must have assumed that they were nuts. Or possessed, maybe.
No, the bible is a fairly recent innovation. Written language is thought to have evolved around 3200 BC, whereas Yahwism, the precursor to Judaism, can be traced back only to about 1200 BC.
Also, the concept of religion being a distinct thing, separate from atheism, is an extremely modern idea. Spirituality and mysticism have existed for as long as humans have possessed spoken language and conscious thought. It was simply the default position until the 16th century or thereabouts.
The Bible, the Quran, and others did not have a word or even a concept of religion in their original languages, and neither did the people or the cultures in which these sacred texts were written. For example, there is no precise equivalent of the English word "religion" in the Hebrew language, and within present-day Israel, the word "Jewish" is used to describe both the national, racial, ethnic, AND religious identities of the Jewish people.
Last edited by Joe Perez; Aug 6, 2024 at 05:11 PM.
Also, consider, for instance, a person who claims to hear the literal voice of God speaking to them.
Of course, it's possible that we atheists have it all wrong, and God is in fact speaking to that individual.
More likely, however, this is not the case.
Now, some people in that situation will believe that the person is hallucinating, or lying, or otherwise "nuts."
However, there's a good chance that some others will believe this person, and perhaps even praise them. They might believe that this individual has been especially chosen by God to act as his messenger on Earth.
Are all of those people crazy as well? Because where I grew up, that was considered to be perfectly ordinary. We all went to a large building each Sunday morning to sing songs, listen to stories about it, and put money in a bowl.
People are the number one way that anyone finds Christianity. People are also the number one way people get driven away from churches.
The author CS Lewis said that he thought Pride was the greatest sin. He said that pride causes people to be hypocrites, arrogant, and behave in ways that were not respectful to our fellow man or to God.
I love God, but I really don't like most people. At least I feel like that sometimes. I like a lot of individuals in small doses. I can handle a few people for longer durations and even really enjoy some of them. And many people don't tolerate me very long either.
I've been working on trying to be more gracious to my fellow man. I've been trying to treat others openly with love and kindness and respect. Some of them make that quite difficult. Others seem to rejoice in being treated kindly and suddenly open up like a flower revealing the goodness they have been hiding inside. People are afraid to show it for fear of it being damaged. I am very much a work in progress and I'm not the same as I was even 2 years ago.
Did I ramble on and on enough for that to qualify for this thread?
I'm going to Japan next month. I haven't really been into the Miata much ever since having kids almost 10 years ago. So far the only thing I plan getting is Misumi 3d printing parts. Anything Miata-related stuff worth buying there?
I was thinking recently about the concept of fiction.
When writing was first developed, it was mostly used for ordinary, practical purposes. Keeping track of agricultural production, making contracts, complaining about the quality of copper ingots, and so forth.
At some point, someone created the first work of fiction. Like, they deliberately wrote down an account of people and events which never actually happened, for the purpose of entertainment rather than commerce.
And whoever first read that… were they confused by this? Like “So, you’re telling me that none of this ever happened? This person you’re describing never existed?”
And they’d have been like “That is correct.”
And the other person must have assumed that they were nuts. Or possessed, maybe.
What makes you think the first work of fiction was created for entertainment and not commerce?
At some point, someone created the first work of fiction. Like, they deliberately wrote down an account of people and events which never actually happened, for the purpose of entertainment rather than commerce.
You are confusing writing with the exchange of ideas.
Storytelling was around long before anyone invented a way to write it down.
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, by Ernest Hemmingway.
Chapter 1:
Ford Prefect stared at the wreckage of the Heart of Gold, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his shabby dressing gown. The ship had finally given up, ground down by the improbable adventures they’d subjected it to. It lay crumpled on the surface of a small, desolate planet, one of those places that even the Guide described as “mostly harmless.”
Arthur Dent sat on a rock nearby, staring into the endless desert. He had long given up on questioning his circumstances; he now simply endured them, much like a man enduring a particularly bad hangover. The towel around his neck was threadbare, but he clung to it as a symbol of whatever hope he had left.
“Ford,” Arthur said, breaking the silence that had settled like dust over them. “Do you think we’ll ever get out of this?”
Ford looked up at the sky, where two moons hung low, indifferent to the troubles of men and Betelgeusians alike. He pulled out a small flask from his pocket, took a swig, and then handed it to Arthur.
“Does it matter?” Ford replied. “The universe is what it is, and we are what we are. Sometimes, it’s just about making it through the next moment, and then the next.”
Arthur took the flask, the liquid burning down his throat, but it was a comforting burn. It reminded him of the things he’d once known, the things that had made sense. He handed the flask back, a question hanging on his lips, but he didn’t ask it. There was no point.
They sat in silence, the desert stretching out before them like an endless sentence, full of sand and longing. Somewhere in the distance, a creature howled—a sound that echoed through the emptiness but brought no answers.
Zaphod Beeblebrox appeared from behind a dune, his two heads both wearing expressions of mild annoyance. He kicked a small rock, watched it skitter across the ground, and then flopped down beside them.
“This place,” he said, “is officially the most boring spot in the entire universe. And I would know. I’ve been to them all.”
Ford and Arthur didn’t reply. They were used to Zaphod’s complaints, used to the way he shrugged off the weight of existence. But this time, Zaphod’s bravado seemed thinner, worn around the edges like the towel Arthur clutched.
Time passed, and the night began to fall, the moons casting long shadows over the land. The stars blinked into view, distant and cold. Arthur, lost in thought, wondered how many of those stars had planets like Earth, places where people lived ordinary lives without worrying about improbable events or towels.
“I miss the simple things,” Arthur finally said, almost to himself.
Ford nodded, understanding. He missed those things too, though he’d never admit it. In his heart, he longed for the kind of peace that Earth, for all its flaws, had once offered. But that was a different life, and they were different men now.
The desert wind picked up, blowing fine sand across their faces. Ford took one last look at the stars, then stood up.
“Well,” he said, “there’s only one thing to do.”
“What’s that?” Arthur asked, though he already knew the answer.
“Keep going,” Ford replied. “Always keep going.”
And so they did, three figures trudging through the darkening desert, their footprints quickly erased by the shifting sands. They didn’t know where they were headed, or what they would find when they got there. But that didn’t matter. They were still moving, still alive, and sometimes, in a universe as vast and uncaring as this one, that was enough.
It's so sad so many gearheads have no clue that peak torque doesnt mean ****.... HP is king.
100hp/1000tq vs 1000hp/100tq engine comparison
Simple physics chart i did back in the day.
I just got back from the hospital. We were bringing my mother home after almost a week in. You know how when you trip, you kinda run to get your feet to catch up with the rest of your body? Well, she missed a step, and did that, only to end up head butting the edge of a door. Split her scalp open (old people have thin skin) requiring stitches. She actually hit the door hard enough to break her neck and compress her spine. Cervical collar will be required for 8-10 weeks.
While she was in the hospital - which is operating at over capacity, so they stuck her in intensive care burn unit - she had her 98th birthday. The nurses took her outside to the meditation garden, bought her a birthday cake and sang happy birthday. I got several comments from the nurses about what a tough old lady she is, and several of them commented on how funny she is.
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