Category Archives: Guest Posts

Enter the world of thing2: minecraft obsession

Hello, its thing two here. Mom had fell down last night and wailed right next to my sisters room (and never heard a thing somehow) while i was working my way to the matrix of sleeping.Then i heard a big wail and had a sigh of greif  “gosh darn thing1, not another nightmare of being at grandmas.” i stumbled out of my bunk and fell on the second step to find mom on the floor covered in laundry. She turned out to have a broken toe and fractured wrist,so no typing for her.  So she decided I should write a post today cause of all my 100’s i got in writing. So here it goes.

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Ever since my friend had showed me the awesomeness that could happen in a survial game i am now in a objective i like to call “minecraftian slave” i watch minecraft videos every single day. if you don’t know what minecraft is then let me simply explain it to you

THE MOST AWESOME GAME EVER!

THE MOST AWESOME GAME EVER!

minecraft is a real life based game where you have to survive in the wild to live, you can build, craft and mine (duh its called MINEcraft). there are also mobs to avoid such as spiders,zombies,creepers,enderman,skeletons, and also cute animals that roam around and you kill for food and villagers that you can trade.

minecraft is an amazing game advalibile on xbox, pc and tablet that lets just say MOST AWESOME ADICTING GAME EVER X3!!!!!!!!! adventaly i don’t have the game, so i just watch lots of videos here are some minecraft youtubers i watch

1.Skydoesminecraft

2. stampylonghead

3.ibalisticsquid

4.Popularmmos

5.The diamond minecart

6. Minecraftuniverse

7. team crafted

Do you get it now? just in case RANDOM POPULARMMOS VIDEO ABOUT BLOWING THINGS UP!!!! (link drop!)

Ad Libs Contest: Dear E.L. James

I am writing this as part of a contest for open letter ad libs at So I Went Undercover‘s blog.  It was a lot of fun.  You should go check it out and try one of your own.

The red print represents what I added to the letter.  I’m sure you’ll be shocked at my choice of subject.

Dear E.L. James,

I have been trying to forget that I feel this way for quite a while, but I can’t pretend anymore.  I am really madfaced. You know when you write?  Well, let me share how that makes me feel…  When you write, I feel like shoving wood screws in my eyes.  Not so much annoyed or even perturbed, but really, really pissed off.  It makes me want to smack a kitten.  I would like to think that I am not the only one who feels this way.  As a matter of fact, you know most of the sane people on this planet?  Well they told me that you suck.

You know what they say:  If one person says you’re a hack writer, you can forget it.  When two people say you’re a hack writer that sucks, you might want to consider it.  When three people say you’re a hack writer that sucks monkey balls you might want to STOP WRITING.  It’s about that time for you, E.L.  Think about that.

Since we are being so honest, there are a few other things I would like to air.  I hate it when you talk to the media about how you’re empowering women.  It makes me want to twist your head off.

I also hate the way you develop characters.  Every time you mention Christian or Ana I want to puke in your Begonias, if you have Begonias.

Also, Stephenie Meyer is not your real friend.  Remember that secret that you shared?  Well she shared it with everyone.  Now everyone knows you blatantly plagiarized her work and they all laugh at you behind your back.

I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.  I really like you.  I value our relationship.  But I cannot go on pretending 50 Shades of Grey hasn’t happened.  If you care enough about me and this relationship, I am sure you would agree to STOP WRITING IMMEDIATELY.

Still friends?

Fondly,

Alice

Guest Post! A Pornography Fan’s Review Of Miley Cyrus’ Performance At Video Music Awards

Welcome List of X!  Today my guest blogger will be talking to us about Miley Cyrus and porn.  For some reason he thought a porn related post would work here.  I can’t imagine why, what with the many, many posts on that literary masterpiece 50 Shades of Grey.  Anyhoo, with no further ado, here is a unique perspective on the latest Mileygate.  Read on, then go check out his hilarious blog.

Lately, there has been a lot of noise surrounding Miley Cyrus’ performance at the Video Music Awards. It was called “pornographic”, “perverted”, “disgusting”, “pornographic”, “distasteful”, “objectionable”, and once again, “pornographic”. (This was the most common epithet by far.)  Let me begin by making it clear that I enjoy porn as much as the next guy, and just as any guy, I consider myself a porn expert. (However, since the next guy is probably too busy enjoying it at the moment, I shall be writing this review myself).  So, when I first heard Ms’ Cyrus’ VMA performance being described as “pornographic”, I was immediately intrigued.  My hopes were sky-high after I had seen a few choice photos of the performance.

However, once I actually watched the video, I was extremely disappointed.  The disappointment was somewhat mitigated due to the fact that I watched the video clip with the sound off, partly because of Ms. Cyrus’ singing, and partly because reviewing pornography requires complete silence to be able to concentrate on the object at hand, as well as to be able to hear if someone is about to walk in on you. To many males, pornography is an art form, and for many of us, it’s the only art form we recognize.  Messing with the standards of our favorite art form is something we porn fans simply don’t take lightly.  

To be fair, Ms. Cyrus had done a very good job demeaning herself, which is often a necessary part of the art, and I have to commend her effort and her obvious enthusiasm. But her performance lacked purpose, focus, charisma, and understanding of the unspoken porn boundaries – unspoken because of the silence.  It had all the markings of amateur porn, without actually coming close to being porn. 

Let’s start with the visual appearance.

Ms. Cyrus’ tongue, which kept falling out of her mouth, gave an impression that she’s being chocked by an invisible hand; her hair style looked as though she just fought a losing battle against a lawnmower; and her movements appeared to be more erratic than erotic.  (Of course, that last part might have been caused by the illegible handwriting of Ms. Cyrus’ choreographer).  In all, Ms. Cyrus’ performance served not to remind of the pleasures of sex, but rather seemed to remind of danger of doing drugs. At times, Ms. Cyrus’ movements were so quick that the outline of her figure was becoming blurred, and I couldn’t agree more with Robin Thicke, a fellow porn fan who once famously said, “I hate these blurred lines”.  (If you had watched a video a few times, you might have noticed Mr. Thicke featured in the same video, performing from behind of Ms. Cyrus.) 

Miley Cyrus, pretending to mate with a male zebra.

Miley Cyrus, pretending to mate with a male zebra.

And what was Ms. Cyrus trying to say by playing with a giant foam finger?  Doesn’t she know that the art standards require using only hard objects (such as poles, microphones, etc.) as props in the performance, because soft prop objects often instill a feeling of insecurity in the male audience?  Especially when these props are also patently oversized and can cause foam finger envy in the more impressionable audience members.  It only takes a couple of minutes to research that on the Internet; a few hours if you are a guy.  

The choreographer has apparently also failed to explain that "The Glove" should not be taken literally either.

The choreographer has apparently also failed to explain that “The Glove” should not be taken literally either.

Finally, the tongue.  Yes, I can’t help coming back to the tongue again – but only because said tongue made no less than 20 scene-stealing cameo appearances during the few minutes of the video (which still felt like an eternity). If the dangling tongue was supposed to be Ms. Cyrus’ impression of a female dog in heat, Ms Cyrus’ choreographer should have made it clear to her client that the “dog in heat” move isn’t meant to be a representation of a dog that literally feels hot and sticks out her tongue to cool down. Apparently, choreography and euphemisms just don’t go together well.

My disappointment reached the highest point when, a few minutes into the clip, I found myself looking forward to Robin Thicke’s appearances, so that I didn’t have to subject myself to Ms. Cyrus’ pathetic attempts at being an amateur porn star.  There were no words in my vocabulary to describe what I was seeing, which made me appreciate the made-up word “twerking” that was used to describe Ms. Cyrus’ dance.  Even given my normally chilly attitude towards the teenage slang terms, “twerking” was surprisingly appropriate as a description of what I was seeing.  This bastard of a word paints a vivid picture of what was happening on the stage.  It wasn’t dancing, or porn, it was nothing but “twerking”, with Ms. Cyrus occasionally drifting into twerking off. 

Ms. Cyrus’ dance made me feel dizzy, but did not make me feel anything else.  It seemed as though her pitiful performance was sufficient to make blood leave my brain but not enough to arrive where it should have, if Ms. Cyrus’ performance was indeed as pornographic as many have claimed.  The only thing her performance was able to arise was the ire of the parents groups, and while it’s often an unfortunate by-product of porn, it’s not the kind of arousal any aspiring porn star should be aiming for.

In summary, if Miley Cyrus is considering entering a career in doing porn, I would strongly advise her to keep her day job, whatever it’s supposed to be.

Ask Mary Alice

Mary Alice, 1950s professional housewife, answers more questions she totally made up – I mean that were submitted by other women. Learn about how to keep hubby and kids occupied for hours!

That Retro Blog

Mary Alice is back again answering your questions – well, okay, she is answering questions from church friends because no one from the peanut gallery submitted a question yet!  So ask a question!  Uh, that is, if you don’t mind, dear heart.

Dear Mary Alice,

Ever since we bought one of those newfangled TVs, all my husband does is stare at that screen.  He even stares at it when all we get is static.  How can I get him to pay attention to me again?

Ignored in Indiana

 

 

Dear Ignored,

You are looking at this all wrong!  I have found the TV to be an excellent device for babysitting your husband.  While they are distracted, you can sit back and have a nice drink.  Of tea.  You can even use them as a prop to hold the baby.

Mary Alice

 

Dear Mary Alice,

I have three children…

View original post 129 more words

Jack Chick’s “The Trial” Dissected

Ding Ding!  Wait, no, it’s not Law and Order.  It’s much worse. Chick Tracts.  Have you ever heard of them?  If not, you are in for a hell of an introduction.  Jack Chick was a whackjob that figured the best way to introduce people to God was through badly drawn and horribly written tiny comic books that cheerfully warned people they were going to roast in Hell unless they converted STAT.  Today I bring you Senator Jason of Crimes against Divinity whose dissections properly tear apart, with hilarious effect, the insanity of these steaming piles of crap. It’s a lengthy post, but well worth the read.  When you’re done, head over to his blog and read his others.  You’ve never had a trip down the rabbit hole quite like this. 

*Note: If you are offended by criticism of religion, you might not want to read this – but you’ll be missing a great post and a chance at discussion.*

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I have the place to myself. No parties, no beer, no wild women clinging to the rafters. Instead, I have committed myself to your entertainment. That, and I figure that it’s either this or teaching myself Python programming or SolidWorks and to be honest, I’m tired of everything I do in front of this computer being work related. Well, there is Skyrim, but I think I’ve explored every single cave and sniped every dragon worth his weight in bones and scales from Riften to Markarth by now. Plus, we all know that I can’t get enough of Chick’s little passion plays.

Some call it an addiction. Others call it a desperate bid for attention. History will decide.

Right here, in a nutshell, is the reason why you can’t resist reading. See, the conservative Christian persecution complex is a pretty powerful thing. It has managed to convince grown adults that as believers, they are the modern-day victims of oppression, bigotry, hatred, and contempt as the secularists try to force religion into the shadows – much like Saints Bartholomew and Antipas of ancient times. Any day now, Christianity will be outlawed, atheism will be the law of the land, and believers will become nothing more than second class citizens, unable to hold a job, buy property, or get married without renouncing their faith and abandoning Jesus Christ.

In fact, the one and only thing holding back this new holocaust is the fact that … well … Christianity is the de facto religion of the United States, followed to some degree or another by about 85% of the population and the overwhelming majority of our lawmakers. It’s kind of tough to suffer persecution when you’re still basically running the show. Guess we’ll have to wait on those lions for another few hundred years.

With that bow on the back end of her dress, the girl on the left looks more like a wind up doll than an actual person. There’s even something a little “uncanny valley” about the way her arms are positioned. You can almost imagine the bow slowly turning as the internal clockwork moves her ever so slowly toward her friend in an odd, stiff-jointed shuffle … eyes blank, knees locked, with just the faintest sound coming from her mouth like an echo from a forgotten dream: “Jee .. sus … Jee … sus …”

I’d tell my mom about that too. And then never come back to school ever.

Meanwhile the kid on the swing in the background is going to kill himself.

“WHATWHATWHAAAAAAAT????”

It’s tough to tell from the picture on the cover if the protagonist of the story is Li’l Suzy or not. I know she’s a favorite of one of Jack Chick’s other illustrators, but I don’t know if they do crossovers between artists. (Uncle Bob, on the other hand, has featured prominently in Jack’s work – see “Gladys“, “The Nervous Witch“, etc.) Either way, you kind of get the feeling of what’s coming. It’s simple: add two kids (or one kid and a Victorian-Era clockwork automaton) talking on a playground, an over-reactive mother, that stupid dog he loves to draw (see blond girl’s shirt), and a sense of paranoia desperately begging for strong medication, and you have a recipe for another opportunity to win some souls!

“But Mom … – ” Nobody tells my daughter that Justin Bieber auto-tunes his voice! NOBODY!!

So Chick has it in for the ACLU. Big shock there. What’s even more of a shock to my system is laying eyes on that melting, gelatinous mass of skin, tweed, and soul-wrenching ugliness that is supposed to be one of their lawyers. Holy hell, Jack … first it was Ms. VD Spreadlegs, Holly, then Gladys. This guy looks like someone painted a face on the underside of their big toe. I guess you really want to make it easy for your target audience to figure out who to root for. Ahh, if only it were this easy in real life.

Speaking of which, has anyone seen a picture of Jack?

I guess we’re supposed to take from this that not only do you not like the ACLU, but also lawyers in general. And a lawyer for the ACLU, well … God just doesn’t bother with those people. They’re born, they live, they die, they go straight to hell. I’m not sure it even matters if they convert. Calvinism is funny that way.

You want 10 million dollars? For something a little girl said to your kid on a playground? Are you mad? What the hell country do you think you’re living i-

Oh … uhh, right. Carry on.

Ah. “Ann”. So this isn’t the famous Li’l Suzy. And here I was hoping the saga would continue. Maybe next time.

Here we come to the theme of the tract titled “This Would Never Happen“. If you go to the ACLU (or the American Humanist Association, or the Freedom From Religion Foundation) to bring up some gross violation of the First Amendment like a public school teaching creationism or posting the Ten Commandments in the front of a court building, the most they’ll do is sue to have it taken down since it violates the Establishment Clause.

As we’ve seen from recent events, though, it doesn’t always work and we’re stuck with two stupid monuments trying to talk over each other. That’s some good work, boys.

“Ms Gordon, you are charged with a major hate crime!

“… and I’m so intensely focused on this case that I will ignore the two bald, eyeless Nosferatu cosplayers coming at me from the crowd!” On second thought, they might just be zombies … in which case you’re safe since they only feed on brains.

Oooh, major hate crime, huh? Was she beating up the Jewish, Muslim, or atheist kids? Did she spend her recess holding up a sign that says “God Hates Fags?” Was she passing out pamphlets that say that same-sex parents are unfit and molest their children?

Stay tuned … only a few panels to go …

I’d like to say something, actually … isn’t it bad practice by the media to question a 6 year old regarding a legal trial instead of her mother? Where is her mother, anyway?

I could be jumping the gun here. She’s one of Chick’s Christians; in other words, the pure, wide eyed young believer who is innocently spreading the word of God’s free love gift to all of her friends while the hard, cruel, unbelieving world tries to punish her for her message. She’s so young and naive, she doesn’t even understand why they’re angry. Who would be angry at such a loving god?

Ah may barf.

Also, if watching the 24-hour cable news channels gives any good indication of this, religion – especially Christianity – is so institutionalized that you’re not going to get much attention at all if you say you have any kind of personal relationship with God. In some parts of the country it’s even expected, even if it isn’t necessarily always true … as Wolf Blitzer demonstrated when he was in Oklahoma. Point is, this would never happen, and the news channels wouldn’t even give stories like this a first glance before going instead to a novelty piece about a three legged pug that can fart the first few measures of Stairway to Heaven.

Your honor, if it pleases the court, I am now going to pass a cantaloupe through my rectum. You’ll pardon me if I look a bit strained.

I have news for you. The four major religions you are going to call to the stand really don’t care about what some other person’s religion has to say about salvation, especially since they all have something to say about the topic, they’re all different, and they all claim they’re right. Who cares? Humanity’s been doing this ever since we were walking upright.

As for brainwashing, I’m afraid that’s one of the goals of religion. Why do you think people are told all of these stories about Heaven, Hell, and the importance of not just being good, but truly believing, in order to avoid eternal torment as soon as they can understand language? That way, by the time they’re old enough to be able to think for themselves, it’s become so hard-wired into their heads that they don’t even bother questioning it.

Sooooo … I’m on the edge of my seat. What did she say?

You have got to be kidding me. Okay, let’s start at the top. Hate literature is material that promotes the restriction of a person’s or group’s human rights, or the ridicule, hatred, or violence against a person or group. This just talks about Christianity’s requirements for getting into heaven. Obviously, this is what Jack’s would use as his opposition’s example of “hate literature”, since it clearly doesn’t fit the bill.

The problem no matter what passages most mainstream Christians use as a guide for morality in our modern secular society, there’s still some pretty nasty, evil stuff in the Bible that can’t be ignored simply because we consider irrelevant, outdated, or inconceivably brutal.

That said, Ann’s parents (assuming they exist) would potentially have been in trouble if their daughter were handing out some home-made leaflets to her classmates condemning homosexuality, especially if it pointed to passages like Leviticus 20:13 – which specifically calls for putting them to death. Other than that, Ann herself would probably have been sent to a counselor if she demonstrated such an unshakable obsession with God that it interfered with her ability to get her work done … but that’s really about about it.

Sorry to burst your bubble, Jack. I understand that reality would have made for a boring tract, so instead of representing real life we have a bad episode of Perry Mason with some South Park and what looks like The Muppet Show thrown in. Kudos.

I think that’s Dr. Zaius to the left of our lawyer friend’s head.

Danny O’Tool? Really? This guy’s ugly as hell with enough real estate in the eyebrow department to pull off a direct, front-to-back combover, so I can only guess he’s supposed to be one of the bad guys. Yep. I guessed right. And he’s covered in religious regalia, so he must be from the Catholic Church.

I don’t get his problem. They follow the bible – or at least they say they do – and if the bible says there’s no other way except through Jesus, then what’s the issue? They’re all good. Ah, I remember now … Jack says Catholics aren’t Christians because they worship Mary and their Death Cookie.

In my 20 years of Catholic upbringing, I have NEVER heard of the Church as “the Mother Church”, or, for that matter, Mary being worshipped as God’s equal. Maybe I went to a more liberal branch and never knew it. I know we used to say Hail Marys, especially for confession … but I was always left with the impression that we were just giving respect to the woman who supposedly gave birth to God 2.0 without so much as dinner and some flowers.

The teachings of the church come from, among other places, the bible, which is designed to teach a narrow doctrine. Religions kind of do that. Your occupation and the history of your own church should have made you pretty familiar with that idea.

Sorry, I don’t know what got into me. We’re all supposed to be siding with innocent, wide-eyed Annie and her harmless bible teachings … and we forget that people like Danny base their teachings off the very same thing.

Oh shit, I almost choked on my Cheetos. Abdulla Ab-Du-La? Drawn suspiciously like Ayatollah Khomenei? Come on. I know that we’re supposed to think all Muslims look alike and all, but damn, Jack. If you can’t do something well, don’t do it at all.

“Islam is outraged!” Well, that’s one thing he has right. They do tend to get a little heavy handed with the fatwahs. And the rioting, depending on where you are. It’s not so much because anything from Christianity “destroys” their religion, but the fact that you’re not submitting your will to Allah … and that demands a paddlin’. It might even get you a beheading if you’re in the wrong part of the world.

By the way, it’s “peace be upon him”, ya dingus.

As for you, Rabbi … you pretty much have it. If that statement is true, then no one but people like Jack are going to go to heaven. (Though the Jewish outlook on the afterlife is a little different from the Christian one.) The rest of us have an eternity of hot poker colonoscopies and molten lead enemas to look forward to. At least the company will be more interesting, at least until the break’s over.

By that rationale, I really hope HP Lovecraft isn’t right. I mean, shit.

I think many things should be removed from the bible, following the recommendations made by Thomas Jefferson. It’s amazing what he did with a half dozen copies of the bible, an Exacto knife, a glue stick, a 12-pack of PBR, and the presence of mind to know that morality isn’t contingent upon belief in a personal god. Moving a little further in time, I submit that the “women’s bible” (complete with lavender font and calcium-enriched pages) should be banned outright. What chutzpah is it to make a book for women about a religion that, among other things, promotes the subjugation of its target audience?

Oh hey they got Christopher Lee to cameo! Awesome! Jack even got the scowl down to a T. He should have kept his hair long, Saruman style. Sure, he kind of looked like an Afghan hound, but you wouldn’t dare tell him that to his face.

I’d really like to know where an intimate knowledge of Greek and Hebrew would help in identifying another way to heaven if you’re just looking at the bible. Regardless, I can’t understand why Jack is so afraid of a good, modern day translation being derived from all of the original Greek / Hebrew manuscripts we have today by actual biblical scholars (not the church or fundies), as opposed to what was used to make the KJV.

“… what did you say to Debbie Baxter?”

I told her that hush puppies were made out of real dogs, and that if you spun around three times in front of a mirror chanting “bloody Mary”, you’ll see the devil. From the mouths of babes comes the truth, after all. How could someone this young and innocent possibly be wrong?

I remember going to a church where a friend of ours was a pastor. We weren’t believers then either, but we went because he’s a friend and he asked us to. After the mass, we were walking around the “fellowship” area where people gathered and talked for a bit before heading back home. I recall seeing quite a few people with the same unsettling look on their faces that Annie has on hers. They walked around you, blinking noticeably less than they should, giving you the feeling that they were not only looking at you, but at a point somewhere in the middle of your head like they were trying to find your soul in the same way you find those secret images in a Magic Eye poster.

We didn’t stay long.

To be fair, though, I never ran into that kind of off-putting, wall-eyed serenity growing up … guess it depends on the church. Needless to say, I don’t think we’re going back.

It just occurred to me … doesn’t Annie get any sort of legal representation either? Where are her parents? Couldn’t they afford lawyers? Did they choose to let their daughter represent herself? I’m sure that if they were in the courtroom, they would be good looking. I mean, they’re Christian, after all. I guess maybe if she had outside support, it would ruin the defenseless Christian thing he’s got going.

“Mom, is our lawyer’s head getting bigger? Like, is he calling me to the stand so he can eat me?”

“Ugggh, it’s horrible … the stress is so much that my head has started radiating its own natural light. I can’t get to sleep at night because I can actually see the insides of my own eyeballs!” Again, Mom’s Spidey Sense notwithstanding, stuff like this happens a lot more frequently when the status quo is disrupted in a religious part of the country. Case in point, I saw this sort of reaction from my old CCD teacher, who would damn near have a nervous breakdown when anyone started pushing back on the stuff she was telling us. If you see atheists suffering a case of apoplexy, it’s usually because kids like Annie have the backing of the school district and no one seems to be aware that there’s any problem at all.

Florida, I’m looking in your direction …

“I didn’t get to tell her the best part.” Well, that’s because your mom doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who listens much. But by all means, Debbie, please tell Evil Mr. Whipple what happened next. Squeeze nothing and walk away slowly.

“After Annie told me to convert, I asked Jesus into my heart. Then we went over to Amir and his friends and started beating the crap out of them because they’re a bunch of unbelievers. It’s okay … god told us to, like he told Saul to wipe out the Ammonites. Then we started speaking in tongues and casting out demons. I know for sure we were saved because we were able to stomach the cafeteria food without being chained to the toilet for the next hour. Hallelujah!

I’m so happy now! I can do whatever I want and hide behind the bible while I do it! It’s like a blank check!!”

Uhh … that is the way it works now … right?

Wait a second. I’m no lawyer but how did the kid manage to convince the judge to dismiss Mom’s case? The trial wasn’t about the philosophy of Christianity but about whether Annie committed a hate crime. This might serve to explain some of Jack’s interpretation of the law in other respects, such as the use of his images for satirical purposes.

Heh.

Guess he hasn’t noticed me or my timeless inspiration, “Enter the Jabberwock” yet. (Wait, why am I sending you over to him? Ignore the link and read mine! I need the attention!!)

Then a STARTLING event occurs …”

It was a zombie jamboree
Took place in the New York cemetery
Oh, it was a zombie jamboree
Took place in the New York cemetery

Zombies from all parts of the island
Some of them are great Calypsonians
Since the season was carnival
They got together in bacchanal
And they were singing …

… sorry. Was the first thing I thought of and I had to go with it. I got nothing else.

They were all buried next to one another? Must have gotten close after the trial.

“A much higher court takes over …”

Judge Judy?

Boy, Jesus, you sure changed since your rebellious younger days, didn’t you? Now you’re all fire and brimstone like your father … other you … whatever. Well, if you ever decide to beget another son-who-is-still-you, I hope he’s just as bad as you were at that age. I wonder how he would react to how you’ve turned out?

Ah, impetuous youth …

I will never allow sin into Heaven

Maybe not, but you certainly let it have free reign on Earth, and even helped along a number of times.

(Job 1:6) – One day the angels came to present themselves before the LORD, and Satan also came with them. The LORD said to Satan, “Where have you come from?” Satan answered the LORD, “From roaming through the earth and going back and forth in it.”

(Job 2:1) – On another day the angels came to present themselves before the LORD, and Satan also came with them to present himself before him. And the LORD said to Satan, “Where have you come from?” Satan answered the LORD, “From roaming through the earth and going back and forth in it.”

Where were you, O Lord, when you and the Prince of Darkness himself were considering Job? Did you kick his ass out when you saw him? NoooOOOOooo … you asked him where he came from, he gave some half-assed answer which, by the way, you should have known. When did Satan go from (no pun intended) the Devil’s Advocate to the bad guy? Oh, right … New Testament.

(Isaiah 45:6-8) That they may know from the rising of the sun, and from the west, that there is none beside me. I am the Lord, and there is none else. I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace, and create evil: I the Lord do all these things. Drop down, ye heavens, from above, and let the skies pour down righteousness: let the earth open, and let them bring forth salvation, and let righteousness spring up together; I the Lord have created it.

Yeah … you’re a real hardass with the “true source of evil”. Humanity, on the other hand, gets the shit end of the stick as usual. Just as the Pharaoh whose heart was personally hardened by God so He could make a point. And the less said about the entire books covering the genocide of Israel’s neighbors, the better.

BEHOLD I AM THE GOD OF NEGATIVE SPACE, INTRICATE LINE PATTERNS, AND THE “SPRAY” FEATURE IN MS PAINT.

Okay, I’ve had enough. I did this in another tract, but it bears repeating since Jack has a habit of pulling this crap. John 8:24 talks about faith, but let’s open our Bibles to Matthew, Chapter 25:

41Then shall he say also unto them on the left hand, Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels:
42For I was an hungered, and ye gave me no meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me no drink:
43I was a stranger, and ye took me not in: naked, and ye clothed me not: sick, and in prison, and ye visited me not.
44Then shall they also answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not minister unto thee?
45Then shall he answer them, saying, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to me.
46And these shall go away into everlasting punishment: but the righteous into life eternal.

Jack doesn’t really focus much on the rest of the passage. He loves the first verse, but conveniently omits the fact that God is condemning people here for lacking mercy, compassion, charity, and love for one’s fellow man. No surprise, since given the material in these tracts, it’s something I personally doubt we’d see in their author either.

Who the hell is that guy at the end? It looks like a young Weird Al after a fight with an electric shaver, a bottle of hair gel, and a collection of unsolicited fashion tips from Don Johnson, circa 1985.

Oh, this is supposed to be the token queer gay homosexual to give the group of sinners a little more diversity. I’m not sure who the two guys in the back are supposed to be, unless they’re just some unexpected cameos from Mad Magazine.

“Satan does not want you to believe the gospel, so he and his followers call it ‘hate literature’.” Well, it depends. If someone quotes a passage from the bible like the Sermon on the Mount, or even Matthew 25:41-46 as a way to encourage good behavior, I don’t really see a problem. When another person starts picking out passages to spread the message that women are inferior to men, or we should be discriminating against (or criminalizing) homosexuals, citing verses that say they should be put to death, well … we’re going to have a problem. Talk like that is meant to encourage people to take action in response, even if it does ask that they throw away the last 3,200 years of societal modernity to do it.

The bible has it all, and more. Owning people and giving guidelines on how severely to beat them, the appropriate amount of money to pay a girl’s father for “damaged goods” if you rape her, and scores of tales about wiping out entire peoples because they didn’t meet God’s approval. Despite this, I wouldn’t call it “hate literature”. It’s certainly not what we should use as a basis for our modern moral and legal code, but it has some value as a historical and cultural text.

Personally, I think it would have more value put in a museum somewhere while we base more of our rules of law – as Richard Dawkins put it – on secular moral philosophy and rational discussion … but hey, I’m just a godless heathen.

That’s right, you can trust us! We’re showing you the way to God’s FREE LOVE GIFT, so you’ll be saved, and go to heaven where there are angels playing harps, an endless supply of bagels, cream cheese, gravalox, and scores of free slobber-free, house trained puppies that will always want to play fetch with you! Who could possibly reject something like that? By which we mean you shouldn’t reject it. You really, really, shouldn’t. It would be bad. Very bad. We’re talking being cast into a lake of fire by one of God’s angels, where your skin will blister and burn off, and demons will eat your eyes while the Fallen Angels play jump rope with your intestines. And don’t forget the hot pokers. They’re still aimed directly at your ass, without a jar of Vaseline in sight.

Remember, God loves you!

**********************

Very Merry Unbirthday… part 2

And now the conclusion to Not Quite Alice‘s Mad Tea Party . . .   If you missed part one, see here.

I’m not exactly sure how it happened really, it just did. One moment, everyone is enjoying the party, and the next thing I know, it’s chaos. No, that’s wrong. I can tell you what went wrong. Hatter and the March Hare, that’s what went wrong. I made sure they didn’t know about it, that everyone’s invitations said to keep mum about it, yet somehow, they still found out. I’m completely laying the blame at their jam covered feet.

Those two always liven up a party.

Those two always liven up a party.

It was a nightmare. That god forsaken doorbell kept ringing, and yet no one seemed to hear it. I tried to ignore it, but alas, it was blasted annoying. It wouldn’t stop, and yet I know I do not have a doorbell in this garden.  It feels as if I’m tipping the scales in favor of being mad. Oh I hope not.

Just as I started to try very hard to ignore the dratted doorbell, I saw the look on Caterpillar’s face. He was about to go off on a rant. I could see it coming. Oh please, not now Caterpillar, not now.  Oh, this is not going to be good.  I best go try to intervene. I can only guess what Rabbit said to him. Oh no, it’s not Rabbit. How did the one Twin get to be next to him? I swear he wasn’t there a moment ago.  Why is he bumping his stomach into him? Caterpillar does not like being touched.  And there he goes, his face just changed to red.

“Who are you to be touching me? Do not touch me you child. You shall see my wrath if you continue.”

As he spoke, you could see the pieces of spittle flying out of his mouth, as well as the puffs of smoke he was blowing into the Twin’s face. This ended up blinding the twin. Yes, a bumbling fool became more of one due to being blinded by Caterpillar’s spit and smoke.  Trying to wipe his eyes, he bounces right into Caterpillar again, who kicked him away. This caused him to fly into Rabbit and the table. Rabbit took off at a run. To where, you might ask. Nowhere in particular, just around the table, but boy was he in a hurry.

Run, rabbit, run!

Run, rabbit, run!

At this point, I’m still hearing the doorbell; I cannot take it anymore and have to find it.  I leave the chaos of the blinded twin and startled Rabbit behind and start looking. I go to the gate, where anyone might logically think to find something, yet nothing is there. Weird, even the door of the gate is no longer there. How odd.  So I start around the cottage (yes I live in a cottage, it’s a step up from a shack, and I don’t need a mansion).  Again, nothing there. Wait, that’s not true, there are footprints there, but those could be from anyone.  I best leave those alone and keep looking.

As I continue looking around the other side of the cottage, I hear the noise coming from the garden at an increasingly louder pitch, and with more of a sound of hysteria attached. This shall not be good at all. I give up hope of finding the dratted doorbell sound, and now the missing garden gate, and start walking faster towards the garden, after all, I was told ladies do not run, just walk at a much faster pace.

And then I saw it, pure and utter chaos in the form of Hatter and March Hare. Blast it all. Bullocks, this was not suppose to happen, and at my Unbirthday party. I started seeing red, lots and lots of red, like the color of the blood that was about to flow from those two.

Why was this going to happen? Oh, you would feel the same way in my shoes. My cute dainty pumps. Actually, you look like you wouldn’t fit them, so I best not use that phrase, instead I’ll say if you were in my place. Yes, if you were in my place, you would want to spill their blood too.

What I saw as I reentered the garden was unbelievable.  The Caterpillar was so enraged; he was bright red and sputtering like a boiling tea pot. The Rabbit was still sprinting around the tea table, but now, it looked he was having balance issues. He kept slipping and sliding, like he was on one of those funny slip n slide games. And his vest is now covered in jam. I know I hid that jam too. Goodness me. This is not good.  The twin is still bumping into everything, wait, no; he stopped, and now he is rolling around like a large awkward ball.  He is going to hurt someone, if not himself.

Further down, you see the White Knight sound asleep. Thank goodness for miracles, sadly that’s where it ends. The Carpenter and Walrus are in the middle of a serious row. In fact, my lovely scones that I worked so hard on, are being flung across the table as weapons. They’re not weapons, they’re food. So flaky and moist and just dying for some clotted cream. Not to be launched as projectiles.

Wait, these aren't oysters, they're scones - bah.

Wait, these aren’t oysters, they’re scones – bah.

Right in the middle of all of that, I hear some yelling.

“Clean cup, everybody move down. Clean cup, I need a clean cup.”

There’s Hatter, yelling for a clean cup, and he’s literally pushing people out of their chairs. Ok, I admit that there really are not many left in their chairs, just the White Knight. Sadly I have been mistake, he’s now out of his chair, and sleeping on the ground. Hatter is sitting in his place, drinking his tea.  March Hare is right beside him tossing jam like it’s confetti at Rabbit, wait, no that’s stopped, he’s now throwing it at flying scones. Jam is landing on everyone and everything.

Oh goodness, there goes Caterpillar, he’s leaving, well and also leaving a trail of smeared butter, cream, and jam. So that’s how Rabbit looked like he was having balance issues, but how did butter and cream end up on his feet?  That will have to stay a mystery for now I’m afraid as I don’t have time to deal with all these mysteries as well as the growing chaos.

I do mean chaos too. There is a trail of jam, butter, and clotted cream leading out of the garden, as well as it being smeared everywhere. I have scones flying across the table as if they were grenades.  The Hatter and March Hare are now dancing on the table, why, I’m not really sure, but again, that’s a mystery I cannot solve at the moment, no time. Rabbit is sprinting around and around and around my table while sliding every which way thanks to his butter and cream covered feet. Over there is the White Knight, sound asleep with a blanket of discarded food and condiments on top of him. I don’t see how this could get more out of hand.

“Not Quite Alice, what is the meaning of this? I thought you had invited me to a tea party, not the circus.”

This party bites.

This party bites.

Bullocks, it just got worse.

“Hello Duchess, I’m so pleased you could make it, won’t you take a seat?”

I knew I should have listened to Alice, and not held a tea party on a day ending in Y.

Very Merry Unbirthday… part 1

Hullo, all.  I have another guest blogger today, with the most fabulous name ever.  Not Quite Alice of myrabbitholes.  I know, right?  TWO Alices. How are you going to tell us apart?  I’ll give you a clue.  One of us is nuts, and the other one is crazy.  So there you go.  She’s written a nice little short story about a tea party she tried to have on my blog.  It went about as well as most of my family dinners.  Also many of my work meetings.  It comes in two parts, so stay tuned tomorrow for the rest.  Enjoy.
This should go well.

This should go well.

“Clean cup! Move down!”

Oh good lord, not again. How did I get myself into this one? I could have sworn they were not invited. No, I know that they were not invited. I specifically ignored sending them an invite. This was my party, not theirs. I do not care if they have the best tea ever, they always manage to ruin every tea party. Case in point, this one.

It all started off normal. Ok, yes I know it usually does. I should know better by now. Really, I should, I swear I’m too naïve at times.

So the invites went out, ignoring the 2 party crashers (ok they weren’t crashers until they showed up uninvited, but this was my Unbirthday and they ruined the last one.).  The tea was ordered, the scones were made, and the butter and jam hidden. That looks about right. Oh, one more thing, almost forgot. There, that’s better. I had to make sure that there were cups at each person’s setting. I cannot have that happen again. Clean cups and saucers for all.

Ok, that should do it. Everyone shall be here soon.  Let the party begin!

And cue the doorbell!

No, it actually did just start ringing, which is odd in and of itself, I don’t have a door bell, this is outside, in the garden. So where did the doorbell come from? Ok, I’ll worry about that later, it’s not as if I’m utterly bonkers. I hope.

It took a while to make all those freaking giant invitations.

It took a while to make all those freaking giant invitations.

Guests! There here!

Places everyone, places.

What am I thinking? I am the one that needs to take their place. Should I sit down, or should I greet? Oh my, I don’t want anything to go wrong. It cannot go wrong this time. Not with the Duchess coming. At least, she said she will be coming. Oh I hope she does.

Oh please go good. Please!

There’s that doorbell again. Seriously, when did a doorbell get installed in the garden? No time for that now though, I need to get this party going.

Where is the party going? Oh never you mind that. It’s here, right here in my garden. Don’t you worry about that. Time to start the party.

In walked the Caterpillar, though is that what you would call what he does? Is it walking? Oh I don’t know, but I’ll call it walking for now. Goodness, he brought that God awful Hookah with him again. Can he not go anywhere without smoking that. He also goes on and on about the alphabet and vowels, and asking ridiculous questions that have no proper answers when he is smoking it.  I do not need my guests to have to deal with that. I could have sworn I put it on his invitation that this will be a smoke free party.

No one tells the Caterpillar he's had enough to smoke.

No one tells the Caterpillar he’s had enough to smoke.

“Oh do go sit over there, I set up a rather large stool for you, I didn’t know if you could fit into the chair properly.”

And off he goes to the large bean bag style stool I had just received in the mail yesterday. I bought it just for him. He’ll break my chairs otherwise.

Goodness! Where does that blasted doorbell keep coming from? I swear, it’s going to drive me utterly bonkers.

Oh look! It’s the Knave of Hearts. I must keep an eye on him, last time he was around, my tarts disappeared. Oh I hope my scones don’t disappear, they are my favorites and I worked so hard to bake them too. I did invite him though, so best be nice. I just didn’t think he would actually arrive. Ok, control yourself, you can do it. Do not start hiding the food. You can do it. Good girl.

“You best sit down over here, Caterpillar brought the Hookah again, and I know how you cannot stand his rants. “

“I could always just steal that Hookah from him.”

“Don’t even, then that’s all we shall be hearing about for the rest of this Unbirthday. I would like this one to go without a problem.”

I do hope he got the hint, don’t steal my food. How very rude of a guest to do that.

Again! That annoying doorbell. Where the frak is it coming from?

Oh, look, there’s one of the twins, is it Dee or Dumb? Oh, I can never tell the difference between the two. I swear, one is Dumb and the other is Dumber. It’s very fitting. Neither is very smart, they’re actually quite lacking in the brains department, but at least they’re entertaining to have at any gathering. Though, I still do not know which this one is.

Tweedle Dee or Dumb or who cares, what a whack job.

Tweedle Dee or Dumb or who cares, what a whack job.

Best go see who it is.

“Well, I’m so glad you could make it. Is it just you, or is your brother going to be joining us as well?” (see how slick that was, I hope he gets the hint.)

“That jolly lump is on his way, yet which way it is, I do not know. Perhaps it’s there, or is it here? It could be that a way, or is it this a way?”

Oh sweet sugar, what is he talking about? And he didn’t answer who he is, now I’m just going to have to pretend I know who it is. I wonder if he will actually notice I do not know who he is, or what he is saying? Honestly, I don’t think anyone knows what he is saying.

Oh look, there’s the white knight. He’s such an interesting person, not much of a knight, but a great inventor. I still don’t understand why he became a knight, except he said his father was one, therefore he had to be one. Poor guy, he’s not very brave, this is definitely the wrong line of work for him. He’s better at creating inventions. Perhaps I shall mention this annoying doorbell that keeps going off out here in my garden.

The white knight is usually a reasonable fellow.

The white knight is usually a reasonable fellow.

“Good day Sir White Knight, how are you?”

“And exactly who are you again? I don’t recall ever being here before.  Where is here?”

“I do believe that you were going to this chair right here. Do take a seat sir, all will be well. Enjoy your tea.”

Great, he’s in one of those moods today. I swear he remembers less and less each time I see him.  Honestly, I’m surprised he found his way here, or even remembered that he was to come here.

“Does anyone else hear a doorbell going off?” I cannot help it, I have to ask.  I keep hearing it, and no one else seems to.  And then the stares start, at least it’s only 4 sets of eyes though. I couldn’t take it if it was more than that just staring at me like I’ve lost my marbles. How could I? I have not had marbles with me this whole time anyways.

I do believe I see the White Rabbit arriving. Late as usual. I swear, he needs to get a working watch. He is always running late.  I am half expecting that he will not stay long and run off saying he is late, again. Tis a good thing I have his place all set already.

Daylight savings time?  I'm LATE!

Daylight savings time? I’m LATE!

“Oh good, you’re here Rabbit.  I have a place all over here for you. Caterpillar cannot wait to talk to you today.”

That will start to teach him about being on time.  From now on, I’ll make sure he sits by Caterpillar until he comes on time. He had best be glad I didn’t sit him near the one twin. Such a nervous little guy too. You’d think he was about to lose his head. Goodness me.

Oh look, there’s the Walrus and the Carpenter. I’m surprised that they came together. Last I heard, the Carpenter was livid with Walrus for eating all those oysters. And they’re suppose to be such good friends too! I’m glad Walrus isn’t my good friend, but he does have a lively aura about him, such fun to have around.  Still, if he was my friend, I might have, no, I definitely would have gotten back at him.

“Gentlemen, I’m so glad you could make it today. Do come and enjoy. You’ll find some empty chairs right over here. Let me know if I can get you anything.”

Just don’t kill each other today, save it for when you leave. Please.

It doesn’t look like the Duchess is coming, so I guess we best get things started. I can take my place at the table now.

“Thank you everyone for coming to celebrate my Unbirthday with me today. You have made this a most joyous occasion. Please, everyone, enjoy your tea and scones, and let me know if you need anything.”

And with that, the calm ended.

Don’t forget to come back tomorrow for the exciting and possibly bloody conclusion!

Stormtrooper in Wonderland – Part 2

Today guest blogger  twindaddy of the Unshitty™ Stuphblog continues the story of an unfortunate storm trooper lost in Wonderland.  In case you missed it, click here for Part One.
. . . And now the stunning conclusion to a Stormtrooper in Wonderland!

I stepped through the doorway and into another world. Or at least, it seemed like another world. I was in the back of what appeared to be a rather large courtroom. At the head of this room was a very large woman wearing a crown and a red and black ensemble. Before her at a small podium was a small, blonde-haired girl wearing a blue dress with a white apron. Surrounding the entire courtroom were large rectangular cards. Some sort of playing card I’ve never encountered before. They all had arms and legs protruding from their corners, and each card held a spade-shaped mêlée weapon in its right hand. I found it a very odd thing to make a statue of, let alone surround an entire courtroom with. Very odd, indeed.

I turned my attention back to the queen. Well, I assumed she was a queen since she was wearing a crown. For all I know judges might wear crowns on this planet. I should be expecting the unexpected since I seem to be able to free fall some ungodly distance without breaking anything, or worse, dying.

The queen (I’ll keep referring to her as such until proven otherwise) was rubbing her hands together as a humorless grin spread across her repugnant face. She slowly leaned forward, towards the little blonde girl, and mockingly asked, “Now what were you saying, dear?”

As she spoke the most mysterious thing happened. An animal materialized out of thin air atop the queen’s head. In fact, it was sitting in the queen’s crown. How the queen did not feel the additional weight of this creature was beyond me, but she remained oblivious nonetheless. The creature was some sort of feline animal, it’s fur alternating stripes of purple and pink with a violet mane. Its eyes consisted of yellow scleras and black pupils, indicating, to me anyhow, the creature was quite mad. This was almost too much to handle. No creature that small has a cloaking device!

As the the queen spoke a mischievous grin permeated the creature’s face. When the queen was finished with her question, the creature spoke. “Why she simply said that you’re a fat, pompous, bad-tempered, old tyrant!”

The creature threw its head back in maniacal laughter as it vanished from sight. Unfathomable.

Every inch of the queen’s skin flushed red with anger. She madly waved her fists through the air and exclaimed, “Off with her head!”

The playing cards, which I had assumed were statues, sprang into motion. They converged on the poor little girl from all directions. The little girl wasted no time vacating the podium and running towards the back of the courtroom. Towards me.

Great.

I readied my blaster as the little girl closed in on me.

“Help! Help!” she cried to no one in particular.

I wasn’t sure who to help in this case. Obviously the queen, if that’s indeed what she was, was in some position of authority here. The little girl, however, seemed so innocent and was obviously too young to be beheaded. At least, in my estimation she was, but I’ve seen more heinous deeds committed throughout the galaxy at the whim of the Emperor.

The little girl finally noticed I was standing there and headed straight for me. She continued crying for help as she ran by and hid behind me. She stuck her head out from behind me and asked me to help her.

“Please, sir, you must help me!” she pleaded.

I turned and regarded her. The little girl couldn’t have been more than 7 or 8 standard years old. How anyone could order a child so young to death bewildered me.

“What have you done?” I asked her. “What is your crime?”

“All I did was tell the queen how ridiculous this whole proceeding was. Please, sir, you must help me!”

“What is your name?” I inquired.

“My name is Alice, sir,” she answered, frightened. “Will you please help me?”

“How old are you, Alice?”

“Seven and a half, sir. Please save me.”

The fear in this child overwhelmed me and I knew I could not deny her. She was so innocent. So young. So naive. No creature so young should be put to death under any circumstances. “Okay,” I conceded. “I’ll help you.”

I turned to face the horde of cards that had been chasing her only to find a completely different scene than I had expected. I was surrounded by cards menacingly holding their spade-shaped weapons at the ready. In front of them all, however, stood the queen, her skin now a deep shade of crimson. I could almost see smoke escaping her ears as she fumed. I brought my blaster carbine to my chest and gripped it tight with both hands, ready for action.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“I am Drun Kenman, trooper for the Empire. You will not bring harm to this child,” I boldly proclaimed. At least, I hope that’s what I did. I was honestly a little intimidated. I mean, I am an Imperial stormtrooper and, a highly trained one at that, but I was seriously outnumbered here.

The queen calmed down noticeably. Her breathing slowed down and a regal grin overthrew her angry frown. “Is that so?” she asked as if she were amused by my statement.

“That is so, queen,” I placed highly sarcastic emphasis on the word ‘queen’ to ensure she knew that her perceived authority over me was just that. Perceived. I had a feeling my response would not be well-received, and I was prepared for that eventuality.

The queen threw her head back violently and began angrily screaming. “Off with his…”

That was quite enough. It was the response I expected and I wasn’t prepared to tolerate the disrespect she was showing an Imperial trooper. Local monarchs are not above Imperial law, and according to the Emperor, should be shown no mercy when they disrespect the Empire. So I quickly snapped my blaster carbine up and pulled the trigger before the queen could finish her cry for my head.

The blaster bolt struck her in the jaw, snapping her head back and knocking her off of her feet. She landed loudly on her back. The ground even tremored a bit when she landed. Ha! That shut her up!

The collective gasp which escaped the mouths of all of the cards when I blasted her was deafening. It was obvious that nobody had ever defied this queen and they weren’t sure how to respond. Either that, or they were totally intimidated with how fearsome I am. It must be the armor, I decided.

A puny elderly man emerged from beyond the sea of cards. He was attired much like the queen, and wore a crown identical to hers. His jaw fell slack when he saw my handiwork. As his gaze slowly turned from his deceased wife to me, anger consumed him just as slowly. Soon, he was furious. I’m not quite sure why. He should be relieved that he didn’t have to be married to that cur any longer.

He stared at me. He stared some more. Then, he kept staring at me. The total lack of anything else happening was beginning to make me feel uncomfortable. As he stared continuously at me, his face began turning different shades of red, each darker than the last.

I was just about to turn and leave with Alice when the king (at least, I’m assuming that’s who he was) finally spoke. “What are you waiting for?” he said to seemingly no one in particular. “The queen said off with his head so off with his…”

I’d had enough of this place. First the queen, now the king. Why does everybody want to take my head off? I wasn’t going to let the king finish ordering my death, either, so I blasted him as well. As the king was mid-sentence, I again snapped my carbine into position and squeezed the trigger. Pure crimson energy spewed from the muzzle of my carbine and then percussed the king in the abdomen. He crumpled silently to the ground, his cry for my head effectively ended.

I decided a tactical retreat was in order seeing as how I was still insurmountably outnumbered. Sure, I’d lopped off the head (for you slower folks, that’s the king and queen), but the body was still functioning and lethal. And surely the head would grow back (that means somebody else will assume control of them; try to keep up). I spun 180 degrees, prepared to grab Alice and exit through the door which had delivered me into this catastrophic situation, but it was gone. The door was gone. Where the hell did it go? There was nothing there but an empty wall now.

I turned back to face my attackers. They had finally mobilized and were marching towards me. They came at me in three single-file lines. Not a brilliant tactical maneuver if I say so myself. I brought my trusty blaster carbine up in both hands and began squeezing the trigger rapidly.

Three shots later, I had hit the lead card in each line. Each card fell backward when it was hit. The cards were so close together that when the lead card in each row fell backward it tumbled into the card behind it, therefore knocking it over. The cycle repeated itself over and over. In essence, I just played dominoes with my blaster. If the situation weren’t so dire I might have laughed at these strange happenings.

Now that I was out of immediate danger, I began frantically searching the courtroom for some other way out. A glance to the left yielded no results. There was only a solid wall there. A glance in front of me was useless, as that’s where literally dozen of cards were sprawled out on the floor, some of them already beginning to get back to their feet. I glanced to the right and saw a passage in the wall. It was my only hope.

I grabbed Alice by the hand and began sprinting for the passage. I entered a hallway with green walls which abruptly turned 90 degrees to the left only a few meters in. I made the turn and continued to run with Alice’s hand enclosed in mine. We came to another turn in the hallway. This one was a 90 degree turn to the right. I took the turn and finally began to sense something was amiss. There were no doors in these hallways. No other openings. No windows. Nothing but turns.

I heard a cacophony of voices behind me. Without breaking stride, but slowing down enough so that I wouldn’t fall over, I risked a glance behind me. The cards were after us. And worse, there were catching up. I could only run as fast as poor little Alice could as she was so little that her legs couldn’t keep up with mine.

We came to another turn. This was a u-shaped turn. As we were taking the turn, Alice spoke through her heavy breaths. “It’s a maze! We’re in a maze.”

She was right. I had realized it a few seconds ago, but hadn’t admitted it to myself yet. Still, we had no choice but to keep running, so we did. We took several more turns. Left turns. Right turns. U-turns. Each turn brought the cards closer to catching us. Then we came to a dead-end. No more turns. Nowhere to run.

I let go of Alice’s hand and turned to face the coming horde of cards. Alice started beating on the walls and began desperately screaming for help. The cards were still some distance away and it would be a minute or so before they caught up, but they were coming. I could hear them. And then, I could see them.

Suddenly I heard a haunting voice. The same haunting voice I had heard when I initially fell in the cave. “Looking for a way out?” it asked.

I turned and the door was there. The knob was intact and there was no indication that I had ever shot it with my blaster.

“Yes!” Alice answered before I could. “Yes! Let us out!”

“And why should I do that when I was treated so rudely before?” it asked with an arched eye directed at me.

“What does he mean?” Alice asked, looking in my direction.

I looked at her and shook my head. “I’ll tell you later.”

I then turned my attention to the door. “If you don’t I’ll blast you again.” I hoped that sounded as threatening as I thought it did, but I was becoming rather desperate and it’s hard to intimidate anyone (or anything in this case) once desperation sets in.

The door laughed. I’ve endured some pretty humiliating things in my life before, but having a door laugh at me, especially right after having threatened it, was now at the top of that list.

“Trooper of the Empire, huh? You’re already out there.” it said.

Not only was I humiliated, but I was now confused as well. “What do you mean, ‘I’m already out there?’”

“Have a look,” it said. Then, it’s mouth (the keyhole if you’ll remember) opened wide. I cautiously peered through the mouth and saw myself sitting, propped up against that fat tree on Dantooine, sleeping. My helmet and blaster carbine lay beside me on the grassy plain as my chest plate gently rose and fell with each breath.

“Oh, for the love of… You mean I’m dreaming?” I asked as I backed away from the door.

“You’re dreaming? What does that mean for me?” Alice asked.

“It means you’re not real and if I want to get out of here I need to wake myself up. And the only way I know of to do that in a dream is to die.”

“Die?” the little girl asked, disbelieving.

“Yes, die. This is a dream, so I’m going to shoot myself, but before I do…”

I shot the door. Again. Pompous door. Don’t ever humiliate a stormtrooper. Even in his dreams. Man that felt good.

Then, knowing that I was dreaming, I turned and started unloading my blaster carbine on the approaching cards. I made a game of it. I was having a blast. Pun intended.

“Ha ha! Take that! Another one bites the dust! Oh, that’s gotta hurt!” I was having all sorts of fun.

Eventually the cards made it to me. They still ridiculously outnumbered me and the amount of shots I could fire. At that point, when I was overcome and about to be captured, I turned my blaster carbine on myself and pulled the trigger.

—————————————————————————————————————-

Darkness. Everything was dark. As I came to my senses, I realized that my eyes were closed. No wonder it’s dark. Light was beating down on my eyelids and some of it permeated through. I opened my eyes and brought my hands up to shield the blinding light from my sensitive eyes.

It took a handful of seconds, but my eyes eventually adjusted. I was right where I had seen myself in my dream just a few minutes ago: sitting on the ground propped up against the tree. I looked down to my left and saw my helmet and blaster just where they had been in my dream too.

Then, voices sprang from my comlink. “SB1977. Come in, SB1977.” It was my captain.

I lazily plucked my comlink from my utility belt. “SB1977 here,” I answered

“Any sign of the rebel base?” he queried.

“Uh,no, sir. I’ve searched my entire sector and there are no rebels here…”

Stormtrooper in Wonderland – Part 1

Hello, all.  Today I’ve got a guest blogger from a galaxy far, far away.  You can find him these days on Stuphblog.  His name is Twindaddy, and he is the best storm trooper blogger I have ever met.  This guy has blogged under some extreme conditions, but today he’s gone somewhere no trooper has gone before – Wonderland.  He has written an awesome short story that will be featured in two parts.  Part Two will appear here on Saturday.

When you’re done here, be sure to check out his awesome blog – there’s a lot of cool stuph™ to be found!  Without further ado, I give you a Storm Trooper in Wonderland . . .

“Dantooine. They’re on Dantooine.”

―Leia Organa

Dantooine.  I’d never heard of this planet before.  Yet here I am on this desolate world.  There is allegedly a rebel base located on this world according to ISB.  And that’s why we’re here.  To find this base.

Let’s be honest, there’s no rebel base here.  If there were they would have fled the planet as soon as we arrived in system.  The rebels always run and hide.  Always.  They wouldn’t hunker down and wait for us to find them.  They’re scared of us, as well they should be.  What an epic waste of time this is.

The world seems pleasant enough, though.  Dantooine is a terrestrial world filled with grassy plains, winding rivers, and beautiful lakes.  This even seems like a pleasant enough world to take a vacation on.  You know, if we stormtroopers were actually allowed to have vacations.  Sometimes I think they see us as machines.  Like droids.  We’re human, though.  As human as we can be after all that training.

This is my view from my HUD. Pretty, huh?

It’s just after sunrise here.  The local sun, Dina, has just crested over the eastern horizon, illuminating the dark-colored clouds in the sky and casting long shadows behind every object.

I have no idea what part of the planet I’m on.  My commander just deployed me here via shuttle and ordered me to search for the secret base.  I’m sure it’s out here in plain view for me to find.  That was sarcasm if you couldn’t tell.  Why are my commanders always so incompetent?

I began walking towards the tree ahead of me with the unusually large trunk when I heard a voice.  An odd voice.  It was a high-pitched voice, yet raspy at the same time.  I froze and concentrated on the voice and tried to make out what it was saying.  The voice progressively grew louder until I could clearly understand the spoken words.

“I’m late!  I’m late!” the squeaky voice exclaimed as a weird creature came scurrying from behind me.  I was startled, but managed not to jump out of my armor, because I’m just that good.

I studied the creature that had just ran right by me:  an extremely small creature, with short white fur, and two long ears protruding from its tiny head.  It was carrying some sort of chronometer in its hand and was attired in the oddest ensemble.  It had some sort of red jacket overtop a dark yellow shirt.  It was wearing grey pants with a white fluffy ball sticking out of its rear-end.  Weird.  And no shoes whatsoever.  To say the least, I was mildly intrigued.

I was able to pull this holograph from my HUD.

Curious, I followed the creature.  As I was completely sure there were no rebels on this seemingly uninhabited planet, this might turn out to be the most interesting thing I see while I’m here.  I figured I may as well see where it leads me.  I had to maintain a brisk jog to keep pace with this creature, but that was no problem for me.  As a warrior for the Empire, I’m in excellent physical shape.  The creature passed by the fat tree and turned toward the rocky outcropping to the left.  What it was heading for I did not know, yet I felt compelled to follow it.

After jogging behind it for a few hundred more meters along this rocking outcropping, it became clear that we were heading for a cave embedded into the outcropping up ahead.  The creature never slowed or quickened its pace, but kept saying it was late over and over again.  It also seemed oblivious to the fact that I was following it.

When it reached the cave it entered without hesitation.  My curiosity now piqued, I followed carelessly through the cave’s entrance.

Big mistake.  Big mistake indeed.

Just a few steps inside this dark cavern the floor disappeared.  Maybe it was never there to begin with, but it certainly looked like the rocky ground was still there when I attempted my next step.  Before I knew it or was ready for it, I was free-falling.

How stupid of me.  I can’t believe I was so heedless as to just run right into an unknown situation.  I know better.  I was trained to avoid just this situation.  Caution, caution, caution!  I can’t believe I did this.  I’m going to die because I’m stupid.

While all of this was going through my head, I failed to notice that I hadn’t found the bottom of this pit yet.  When that stark realization snapped me back to reality, I looked down and saw the last thing I expected to see at the bottom of this cave I was plunging through.

A lit, finished floor.

Unbelievably, the closer I got to the floor below, the slower my descent became.  I eventually landed gently on my feet, like a feather landing gracefully on the ground.  All I could think was, “Whoa, that was weird.”

I slowly took stock of my situation.  I still had my armor and I still had my blaster.  I checked my utility belt and found what I hoped was still there.  My comlink.  I yanked it from my belt and began to speak into it.

“SB1977 to command.  Do you read me over?”  No response.  I tried a couple more times to reach my commander, but to no avail.  I brought the comlink up to try a fourth time when I heard a disturbingly sinister laugh echoing from somewhere beyond the edge of the light.

“That won’t work in here,” a haunting voice said.

Another image from my HUD. I figured if I didn’t capture these images no one would believe me.

I quickly brought my blaster up in both hands, ready to fire on any threat to my safety.  “Who goes there?” I loudly asked.

Suddenly the edge of the light extended off to my right, illuminating a green door stuck between open, red curtains.  The door had a golden knob on its right side with eyes above the knob and a keyhole doubling as a mouth below it.  The knob seemed to be the nose of the most bizarre creature I had ever seen before.

I walked toward the door.  Instead of the door growing larger as I approached, it actually became smaller.  The knob’s eyes seemed to be following me as I moved toward it.

“Did you say something to me?” I asked it.  Then, the absurd realization of what I had just done hit me like the shockwave from a thermal detonator blast.  I just spoke to a kriffing door.  Great, Drun.  Just great.  What will you do for your next trick?

The knob seemed to regard me, then its mouth began moving.  “I said, ‘That won’t work in here.'”

I was so shocked and taken aback that I nearly soiled myself.  A doorknob had just spoken to me.  What is going on here?

“If you want to get through, you’ll have to use that key,” it continued, gesturing to its right (my left) with its creepy eyes.

I followed its gaze to my left and saw a table sitting there.  On the table sat three items:  a white cake, a blue bottle, and a golden key.

I looked back to the door.  “How do I get through?”

It smirked.  The door actually smirked.  This is insane.  “That’s for you to figure out,” it told me.

I raised my blaster and carefully aimed it at the door knob.  “Look, whatever you are, I am a trooper for the Empire and you will tell me what I need to know or I’ll blast you!”

“Oh, that’s not how this…”

I had enough.  That was all the knob could spit out before I angrily pulled the trigger and forever silenced it.  As an added bonus, the door flew open.  The doorway, however was too small for me to fit through.  I walked over to the table and inspected the items it held.  The key was now useless, so I ignored it.  The bottle had a label on it that said “drink me.”  Next to it was a cake that had “eat me” written into the frosting.  After a short, juvenile chuckle at having just read the words “eat me” emblazoned on a cake, I decided to take a bite of the cake.  I removed my helmet and took a small bite of the white cake.

A most puzzling thing then happened.  Everything suddenly began to shrink.  Then, I realized that it was me who was getting larger and not everything else getting smaller.  Sithspit! What is going on?

My head hit the ceiling.  Wait, there’s a ceiling in here?  How did I get in here if there’s a ceiling? Smacking my head against the ceiling didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t exactly a gentle bump, either.  Luckily, I stopped growing once my head hit the ceiling or else things would have become even more unpleasant.

The cake was an utter failure, so I decided to try the bottle.  I figured that if the cake made me bigger, then hopefully the bottle would make my smaller.  I lifted the now miniscule bottle up to my waiting mouth, which was no easy task considering the bottle was about the size of one of my fingernails now, and dumped its contents into my biggest orifice.  My mouth.

Very quickly, everything became huge as I shrunk to the size of the door in what seemed like a heartbeat.  It wasn’t gradual like eating the cake had been. I looked all around.  Everything was huge now, except for the door, which was now just the right size.  I took a step toward the door only to have my foot bang into some inanimate object I hadn’t noticed was there.  I looked down and saw my helmet lying there in front of me.  Somehow, it had shrunk, too.  Not daring to question my good fortune in that regard, I picked it up and placed it back over my precious skull.  Well, it’s precious to me, anyhow.

With no other reason to stay, I continued through the door, completely unprepared for what lay on the other side.

. . . Stay tuned Saturday for the exciting conclusion!

Blog for Mental Health 2013

Okay, this is Alice being somewhat serious for a few minutes.  Canvas of the Minds is a blog with multiple authors that seeks to remove the stigma from mental illness by talking about it freely.  The authors, including yours truly, are not experts, except in our own experiences.  In other words, we all have a touch of the nuts.  And we want to share!  No, wait, we want to let other people know that it’s okay to share.  That’s better.

Did someone say nuts????

Did someone say nuts????

Because there are more of us than you think.  It’s not all confined to places like Wonderland.  We have way more than our share here, though.  I keep trying to get the Hatter to take some meds or at least go see a shrink but he keeps saying “Not during tea time!”  Of course, it’s always tea time, which means he can never seem to get any help.  Instead he hides away with the March Hare and that stupid Door Mouse and they all act crazy together and no one knows about them unless they are unlucky enough to stumble upon their tea party.

It wasn’t a fun party.  There was all this “new cup, move down” crap and we never got to drink any tea or eat any sweets because the dorks kept starting over again, or jamming the mouse in the sugar bowl, or celebrating unbirthdays or just smacking the crap out of each other.  In other words, it’s like most family dinners, only this one never ends.

Crap, this happens every damn Thanksgiving.

Crap, this happens every damn Thanksgiving.

The sad thing is that it could end, or it could at least get better.  But there’s this stigma out there.  No one wants to admit they are good in the mentals.  You can have Cancer.  You can have heart disease.  You can have a broken leg.  And you can freely take medicine for all of these.  People are willing to be nice and bring you food and talk to you about your troubles.  But if it’s a mental illness?  That’s a different story.

Then you’re making it up.  Or you could do better, if you’d just try.  You know, pull yourself up by your bootstraps.  Quit being sad!  Now!  Get off the ceiling you aren’t Spiderman!  Now!  Stop it, stop it, stop it already!

Strangely enough, this sort of therapy rarely works.  Because, you see, people with mental illness already think they’re lazy.  They already know there is something off about them.  They are already frightened.  And often they don’t know why they’re sad, or why some random thing has caused tears, or why they managed to tile the roof in one night.  It just is.

Spiderman: Probably manic.

Spiderman: Probably manic.

But because of these reactions, people suffer in silence.  Because of these reactions, people take their own lives.  And then people wonder.  She always seemed happy.  What went wrong?  He pretended, that’s what.  She acted like everyone expected, that’s what.

But we can change this.  We can talk about it more openly.  The more people know about something, the less likely they are to fear it.  And the more encouraging people are, the more likely someone with mental illness will feel brave enough to respond, to leave the tea party, at least for a little while.

So that’s why I have this badge over there now.  I don’t just blog about mental illness.  More like you can just kinda tell I’m nuts by reading what I write.  That’s another thing people don’t realize.  So many artists, writers, and other creative people suffer from this stuff.  I’m not sure what the connection is, but I do know that if we don’t hold out a life line, we’re going to lose some of our most gifted people, and the world will be less than.

There's marbles there.  The ones we lost. Get it???

There’s marbles there. The ones we lost. Get it???

I am fortunate in that I have a great support system.  I have enough income that I can afford medical treatment.  Not everyone has that.  But you can be that someone, just by being willing to listen.  Or read.  Check out this blog, or let someone else know about it that could use a little help.  Just knowing you are not alone is sometimes enough to help you get through the night.  And if you suffer from depression or even just the occasional blues, you can also come here or to many of the blogs listed in my blogroll (that is always evolving).  Laughter is a great medicine.  I hope I make some of you laugh, and for a while, forget about the tea party.

Thanks,

Alice