Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Wheat Flour, Water, Sugar, Partially Hydrogenated Soybean Oil, Egg, Salt, Sodium Bicarbonate, Natural and Artificial Flavor, FD&C Yellow #5 & #6
Wheat Flour, Water, Sugar, Partially Hydrogenated Soybean Oil, Egg, Salt, Sodium Bicarbonate, Natural and Artificial Flavor, FD&C Yellow #5 & #6.
Because I've always wondered what exactly is IN a fortune cookie.
I wasn't sure.
But I'm glad there's no eye of newt. Or fang of half-undead, lost midget, ghost, zombie, thing... short zombies... in clown costumes... o.O Thanks for the nightmares...
Where were we?Oh, yeah...
Greetings, Evildoers,
We ate Chinese today.
Chinese food... not people.
I'm not sure what other cultures think of it, but here in America it's considered VERY rude to eat Chinese people.
Anyway. They gave us fortune cookies. now, there were three of us eating, but we ordered take-out, and got enough for five people. So they put five cookies in the bag. My sister took one... and I got the rest. :D Four fortunes for the Rafe.
My first fortune cookie: "Others appreciate your good sense of humor today."Well I sure as @#$%$ Hope SO!!!!
^I'm not sure how you're supposed to take that either... it was just fun to write. :)
My second fortune cookie: "A pleasant surprise is in store for you soon."
Ooh... I wonder what it is... *Grins like a child with a sugar high*
My third fortune cookie: "Focus on your long-term goal. Good things will soon happen."
Only one problem... I don't wanna focus on my long-term goal. :( I wanna focus on my Chinese (food) I'm eating. then i stop to ponder... wth are my long-term goals? Money? Fame? Glory? Overlord? Oh yeah... that was it... Overlord...
My fourth fortune cookie (by this time I'm pretty full...): "Your personality is fueled by the fascination you feel for life."
I'm not even sure what to say that. It's not a fortune. It's a statement of spurious factitude. Gee... "Factitude" is actually a word... I have no idea if I'm using it correctly, and I'm too full to find the energy to look it up.
My fifth fortune cookie: "Keep an eye open for an opportunity in the field of sports."
Now I know something's up. Not only has it abandoned fortunes, it's gone to ordering me around. ME? You (little cookie) have the guts to tell ME (a future co-overlord of the world) what to keep an eye out for? I'm not even any good at sports!!!! >:O
*Note to self: When in angry tirade, don't point out what you're not good at.
I'm really only good at one athletic(ish) thing. That's repelling. I mean, seriously... I've been repelling girls for years.
:D
Okay... I only ate five fortune cookies.
Otherwise my stomach would hurt even more, and I'd have more for you. Alas, I really must take a nap and then get back to school. (I'm doing ethics. The ethics of how we treat animals before we kill, cook, and eat them. I'm like "Who give a crap? We're going to eat them. Doesn't that kind of make us the bad guys anyway?" But others say "FREE THE CHICKENS!" So, I'm going to be realistic and say "Okay, can we still kill, cook, and eat them if we pamper them before we do it?" We'll see what happens. Wish me luck.)
Ciao.
And, as per my usual request,
Go do some evil! ;)
~Magillichetti
Because I've always wondered what exactly is IN a fortune cookie.
I wasn't sure.
But I'm glad there's no eye of newt. Or fang of half-undead, lost midget, ghost, zombie, thing... short zombies... in clown costumes... o.O Thanks for the nightmares...
Where were we?Oh, yeah...
Greetings, Evildoers,
We ate Chinese today.
Chinese food... not people.
I'm not sure what other cultures think of it, but here in America it's considered VERY rude to eat Chinese people.
Anyway. They gave us fortune cookies. now, there were three of us eating, but we ordered take-out, and got enough for five people. So they put five cookies in the bag. My sister took one... and I got the rest. :D Four fortunes for the Rafe.
My first fortune cookie: "Others appreciate your good sense of humor today."Well I sure as @#$%$ Hope SO!!!!
^I'm not sure how you're supposed to take that either... it was just fun to write. :)
My second fortune cookie: "A pleasant surprise is in store for you soon."
Ooh... I wonder what it is... *Grins like a child with a sugar high*
My third fortune cookie: "Focus on your long-term goal. Good things will soon happen."
Only one problem... I don't wanna focus on my long-term goal. :( I wanna focus on my Chinese (food) I'm eating. then i stop to ponder... wth are my long-term goals? Money? Fame? Glory? Overlord? Oh yeah... that was it... Overlord...
My fourth fortune cookie (by this time I'm pretty full...): "Your personality is fueled by the fascination you feel for life."
I'm not even sure what to say that. It's not a fortune. It's a statement of spurious factitude. Gee... "Factitude" is actually a word... I have no idea if I'm using it correctly, and I'm too full to find the energy to look it up.
My fifth fortune cookie: "Keep an eye open for an opportunity in the field of sports."
Now I know something's up. Not only has it abandoned fortunes, it's gone to ordering me around. ME? You (little cookie) have the guts to tell ME (a future co-overlord of the world) what to keep an eye out for? I'm not even any good at sports!!!! >:O
*Note to self: When in angry tirade, don't point out what you're not good at.
I'm really only good at one athletic(ish) thing. That's repelling. I mean, seriously... I've been repelling girls for years.
:D
Okay... I only ate five fortune cookies.
Otherwise my stomach would hurt even more, and I'd have more for you. Alas, I really must take a nap and then get back to school. (I'm doing ethics. The ethics of how we treat animals before we kill, cook, and eat them. I'm like "Who give a crap? We're going to eat them. Doesn't that kind of make us the bad guys anyway?" But others say "FREE THE CHICKENS!" So, I'm going to be realistic and say "Okay, can we still kill, cook, and eat them if we pamper them before we do it?" We'll see what happens. Wish me luck.)
Ciao.
And, as per my usual request,
Go do some evil! ;)
~Magillichetti
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Nothing Less than the GREATEST Hansel and Gretel EVER TOLD!
Greetings, Evildoers.
Wanna hear a bedtime story? Good.
What follows is nothing amasing just the GREATEST RENDITION of a classic story EVER TOLD!I give you...
Hansel and Gretel
Once upon a time in a land far, far away there lived a kindly woodsman with his two children, Hansel and Gretel. Hansel wore lederhosen (as Hansels are want to do) and Gretel called him “Hoser” for it.
The children’s mother had died many years ago, and the woodsman had remarried a beautiful, albeit evil and wicked, woman who hated to see happy little children. But she was beautiful, so, as far as Mr. Woodsman was concerned, her views on child-rearing were second tier.
One day Mrs. Woodsman came up to her husband and said, “Mr. husband guy, the children are SO cramping my style. Let’s, like, lose them in the woods or something, okay?”
The woodsman was saddened that he couldn’t keep his children, but if he wanted to keep the chick, the brats had to go. So away went the brats.
The woodsman told Hansel and Gretel that they were going for a walk in the woods. After he had led them out deep into the woods he told them to close their eyes and count to a thousand so he could leave them.
Gretel cried and said, “But, dad, you never taught us how to count past eleven!”
After doing some quick calculations in his head the woodsman said, “Just count to eleven 90.9 times.”
Apparently he taught poor Gretel the decimal system before he taught her twelve, because this made perfect sense to her, and she proceeded to do it. While the children had their eyes shut, the woodsman quickly and quietly made his way back to the house.
When they opened their eyes again and saw that their beloved father was gone, Hansel was a bit miffed.
“Well, that does it.” He said, “Let’s follow my marbles back home.”
“Hansel,” Gretel said, “Why did you drop marbles all the way on our walk through the woods?”
“I lost a bet, actually,” Hansel answered, “But pretty lucky for us now, eh?”
Gretel smiled and nodded. Together they walked back through the woods and were home in time for supper. This really ticked off their parents.
The next day the woodsman took his children out for another “walk.”
“Okay, brats,” He said, “Let’s try this ‘losing the kids’ thing again.”
“Okay, daddy.” Gretel smiled.
So again he led them out deep into the woods and told them to close their eyes and count to eleven 90.9 times. They did this. He left. They opened their eyes. They laughed at his utterly lame attempt to lose them.
“We’ll just follow my Twinkies back home!” Gretel squealed.
“You wasted Twinkies?” Hansel asked, “Why? Is home really worth that?”
“Oops.” Gretel stared wide eyed at the path where her Twinkies had once been.
“What is it?”
“Um, Hoser,” Gretel said, “I forgot that rabbits like high fructose corn syrup.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” She smiled, “Just that the Twinkies are gone, and we’ll never get home.”
“Crap.”
With that exacerbating realization, the brother and sister walked off into the woods trying to find their way home. They walked and walked and walked and walked and walked some more. Then, when they had walked all they could walk, they cried. When they were through crying, they walked some more.
Finally they came upon a house.
It was made entirely of spinach.
They kept walking.
Shortly they came upon another house. This one was made of gingerbread, and had chocolate frosting framing glass-candy windows and gumdrop somethingerrathers and waffles for shingling and a candy-cane fence.
“I’m so desperately hungry, Hoser,” Gretel cried, “Can’t we stop and eat this person’s house?”
“We really don’t know where this stuff has been, Gretel.” Hansel said, “I mean, if they have a dog, then don’t eat the yellow frosting, know what I mean?”
“But I like lemon frosting.”
“I don’t think it’s lemon, kiddo.” Hansel said, “But my blood sugar’s dropping fast, so let’s pig out.”
They started eating the house. Most scholars consider this one of the more bizarre choices any humans have made in the last eon or so. I mean… even if it IS gingerbread… eating a house you find out in the woods? Bad idea, children. Bad.
Anyway, as should be expected, the owner of the house came out to see who was eating her house. Not surprisingly, she was a bit upset. So she grabbed the two little brats and shoved them into a cage (which, oddly, was not made of anything sweet) and hauled them into the house. She was, ugly and green and had a wart on her nose; she was, obviously, a witch.
Somehow or other, after a couple days, the arrangement became that Hansel sat in the cage all day getting fed sweets beyond his wildest dreams. And Gretel did housework for the witch. Apparently the witch wasn’t a feminist.
Anyway, it became apparent to Gretel that the witch couldn’t see very well. She probably just needed thicker glasses, but whatever. Vanity will be the end of villainy.
Every day when the witch came to see if Hansel was fat enough to eat she would say, “Give me your finger, dummy.” And Gretel would shove a stick into her hand so she would say, “Your metabolism rocks, kid. Still as skinny as a pencil.” In reality Hansel had tripled his bodyweight in less than 48 hours.
Then one day the witch got hungry and decided she was going to cook Hansel, skinny or no. So she told Gretel to light a fire in the oven. Gretel built a huge, gigantic, behemoth and big fire, and stoked it until it was hotter than the surface of the sun.
“Is it just me or is it hot in here?” The witch cackled.
“It’s probably just you, crazy lady.” Gretel said, “Why don’t you come here so I can feel your forehead?”
So the witch walked over to where Gretel was standing and knelt down so she could reach her forehead.
Gretel seized her opportunity instantly! She reared back as far as she could and with a shrill cry of “This Is Sparta!” She kicked the wicked witch into the oven.
It exploded.
Witch goo got on everything.
That was when Hansel realized that the cage was never locked, and he crawled out. Hansel seemed to have gained a great sense of direction while being locked up, because he was able to lead them right back home. Despite his massive weight gain and lack of exercise, he ran the whole way.
When they got home they somehow found out that their step-mother was actually the witch they had just blown up. How (or why) she was living this crazy double life is beyond me.
Their father was distraught at the loss of his wife.
“She wasn’t much of a mother.” Hansel said, “I mean… she was planning to eat me.”
Gretel giggled and nudged Hansel, “I guess you could say she ‘went to pieces,’ eh?”
They both laughed.
The woodsman wept. Then he went into the loft and shot himself.
This report comes to you from child services.
Thank you.
The End
Wanna hear a bedtime story? Good.
What follows is nothing amasing just the GREATEST RENDITION of a classic story EVER TOLD!I give you...
Hansel and Gretel
Once upon a time in a land far, far away there lived a kindly woodsman with his two children, Hansel and Gretel. Hansel wore lederhosen (as Hansels are want to do) and Gretel called him “Hoser” for it.
The children’s mother had died many years ago, and the woodsman had remarried a beautiful, albeit evil and wicked, woman who hated to see happy little children. But she was beautiful, so, as far as Mr. Woodsman was concerned, her views on child-rearing were second tier.
One day Mrs. Woodsman came up to her husband and said, “Mr. husband guy, the children are SO cramping my style. Let’s, like, lose them in the woods or something, okay?”
The woodsman was saddened that he couldn’t keep his children, but if he wanted to keep the chick, the brats had to go. So away went the brats.
The woodsman told Hansel and Gretel that they were going for a walk in the woods. After he had led them out deep into the woods he told them to close their eyes and count to a thousand so he could leave them.
Gretel cried and said, “But, dad, you never taught us how to count past eleven!”
After doing some quick calculations in his head the woodsman said, “Just count to eleven 90.9 times.”
Apparently he taught poor Gretel the decimal system before he taught her twelve, because this made perfect sense to her, and she proceeded to do it. While the children had their eyes shut, the woodsman quickly and quietly made his way back to the house.
When they opened their eyes again and saw that their beloved father was gone, Hansel was a bit miffed.
“Well, that does it.” He said, “Let’s follow my marbles back home.”
“Hansel,” Gretel said, “Why did you drop marbles all the way on our walk through the woods?”
“I lost a bet, actually,” Hansel answered, “But pretty lucky for us now, eh?”
Gretel smiled and nodded. Together they walked back through the woods and were home in time for supper. This really ticked off their parents.
The next day the woodsman took his children out for another “walk.”
“Okay, brats,” He said, “Let’s try this ‘losing the kids’ thing again.”
“Okay, daddy.” Gretel smiled.
So again he led them out deep into the woods and told them to close their eyes and count to eleven 90.9 times. They did this. He left. They opened their eyes. They laughed at his utterly lame attempt to lose them.
“We’ll just follow my Twinkies back home!” Gretel squealed.
“You wasted Twinkies?” Hansel asked, “Why? Is home really worth that?”
“Oops.” Gretel stared wide eyed at the path where her Twinkies had once been.
“What is it?”
“Um, Hoser,” Gretel said, “I forgot that rabbits like high fructose corn syrup.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” She smiled, “Just that the Twinkies are gone, and we’ll never get home.”
“Crap.”
With that exacerbating realization, the brother and sister walked off into the woods trying to find their way home. They walked and walked and walked and walked and walked some more. Then, when they had walked all they could walk, they cried. When they were through crying, they walked some more.
Finally they came upon a house.
It was made entirely of spinach.
They kept walking.
Shortly they came upon another house. This one was made of gingerbread, and had chocolate frosting framing glass-candy windows and gumdrop somethingerrathers and waffles for shingling and a candy-cane fence.
“I’m so desperately hungry, Hoser,” Gretel cried, “Can’t we stop and eat this person’s house?”
“We really don’t know where this stuff has been, Gretel.” Hansel said, “I mean, if they have a dog, then don’t eat the yellow frosting, know what I mean?”
“But I like lemon frosting.”
“I don’t think it’s lemon, kiddo.” Hansel said, “But my blood sugar’s dropping fast, so let’s pig out.”
They started eating the house. Most scholars consider this one of the more bizarre choices any humans have made in the last eon or so. I mean… even if it IS gingerbread… eating a house you find out in the woods? Bad idea, children. Bad.
Anyway, as should be expected, the owner of the house came out to see who was eating her house. Not surprisingly, she was a bit upset. So she grabbed the two little brats and shoved them into a cage (which, oddly, was not made of anything sweet) and hauled them into the house. She was, ugly and green and had a wart on her nose; she was, obviously, a witch.
Somehow or other, after a couple days, the arrangement became that Hansel sat in the cage all day getting fed sweets beyond his wildest dreams. And Gretel did housework for the witch. Apparently the witch wasn’t a feminist.
Anyway, it became apparent to Gretel that the witch couldn’t see very well. She probably just needed thicker glasses, but whatever. Vanity will be the end of villainy.
Every day when the witch came to see if Hansel was fat enough to eat she would say, “Give me your finger, dummy.” And Gretel would shove a stick into her hand so she would say, “Your metabolism rocks, kid. Still as skinny as a pencil.” In reality Hansel had tripled his bodyweight in less than 48 hours.
Then one day the witch got hungry and decided she was going to cook Hansel, skinny or no. So she told Gretel to light a fire in the oven. Gretel built a huge, gigantic, behemoth and big fire, and stoked it until it was hotter than the surface of the sun.
“Is it just me or is it hot in here?” The witch cackled.
“It’s probably just you, crazy lady.” Gretel said, “Why don’t you come here so I can feel your forehead?”
So the witch walked over to where Gretel was standing and knelt down so she could reach her forehead.
Gretel seized her opportunity instantly! She reared back as far as she could and with a shrill cry of “This Is Sparta!” She kicked the wicked witch into the oven.
It exploded.
Witch goo got on everything.
That was when Hansel realized that the cage was never locked, and he crawled out. Hansel seemed to have gained a great sense of direction while being locked up, because he was able to lead them right back home. Despite his massive weight gain and lack of exercise, he ran the whole way.
When they got home they somehow found out that their step-mother was actually the witch they had just blown up. How (or why) she was living this crazy double life is beyond me.
Their father was distraught at the loss of his wife.
“She wasn’t much of a mother.” Hansel said, “I mean… she was planning to eat me.”
Gretel giggled and nudged Hansel, “I guess you could say she ‘went to pieces,’ eh?”
They both laughed.
The woodsman wept. Then he went into the loft and shot himself.
This report comes to you from child services.
Thank you.
The End
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Paul (a movie review), the Word "Sklent," and Roses
Greetings, Evildoers.
I am upset.
As some of you probably know (though many of you probably don't) Simon Pegg and Nick Frost came out with another movie, Paul. It is not a part of the acclaimed "Blood and Cornetto Trilogy." And that, my friends, is the best thing about it: It is not a part of one of my favorite movie series.
Here's a brief synopsis (stolen from www.kids-in-mind.com a very helpful site):
The story is old fashioned, I think we've all seen one version or another of new friends helping someone fight for their dreams. It was simple, yes, but had so much potential. They just didn't use it right. The story, overall, was 5/10 stars.
However... the rest of the movie brings that number WAY down.
Let me begin by saying that Paul has moderately clever moments at best, and quite a few funny sci-fi references. But my praise must end there. Most of it wasn't funny. Most of the jokes were either sex jokes (not even funny sex jokes, but just people saying "f***" and grabbing people etc.) and what wasn't a sex joke seemed to be an overtly blatant attack on Christianity.
I'm used to subtle attacks on Christianity, and the portrayal of Christians as crazy. Paul took it a couple (several) steps further. The Christians were six-day creationists, 4,000 year old Earth type. They believe the alien, Paul, is a demon. Paul tells them that his very existence disproves all Judeo-Christian beliefs. What's his big argument? "Evolution, Baby!" They never even stop to think about the fact that evolution and Christianity are not in conflict. One's a scientific theory about how species develop over time, and the other is a belief in a creator. But that's not my beef. I worry about that too much.
What annoyed me was when Paul did a mind-meld with the Christian girl and gave her knowledge and "freed" her from the bondage of Christianity. What did she decide to do with this newfound "freedom"? She decided to "do a lot of [swearing] kissing and fornicating." Some freedom. :P
It wasn't just that the writer's were obviously anti-Christian; it was that the entire movie seemed to be an attempt to make all Christians and Christiantiy seem like crazy, controlling, oppressive and stupid farmers who, although they won't swear, have no problem killing people. o.O That's not the Christianity I know, but that seemed to be the theme of the movie.
At the end when Paul was talking to the Christian girl he said "Sorry I scared you," and she answers, "You didn't scare me, you freed me."
Okay, I know what some of you are probably thinking. "Rafe's OCD and is probably overracting." I questioned myself on that too, and if it were only I that felt this way, I would wonder. However, my sister went to see it with me, and agreed that at some points it crossed the line into blasphemy. In fact it was she who prompted me to write a review.
But what really made me mad was that it was largely unfunny. They mocked Christians at every turn, but they couldn't even do it cleverly. It was, in my mind, a waste of money.
I give it 2/10 stars.
For those of you who are going to ignore my advice and see it anyway, just be warned it is totally not a kids show. Besides the anti-Christian message, it is also full of swearing, and sex jokes, and grabbing people. (They meant that to be funny, but it was mostly just gross.)
Sklent and Roses
However... now to be funny. :)
I'm hoping that from the title you were able to guess that "sklent" is a word. According to the Official Scrabble Dictionary "sklent" means the same thing as "slant." Perhaps this is a common word in your world and you're going "Don't you ever sklent your art to send messages of pain, fear and remorse?" (Which, by the by, I do.) On the other hand, if you're like me, you've never heard the word before and wonder why (WHY???) you've never heard it before... I can't answer that. That, my eager, young pupil, is something you must discover for yourself.
But, next time you're in someone's house and they have a picture hung crooked, tell them their photographs are at a great sklent. See how they react.
In related news, I was playing Scrabble, and had the great fortune to play a 76 point word. If you're not into Scrabble you'll probably say "oh," however, if you, like me, are a word guru, you will know that 76 point words are a bit of a rarity. I've scored higher before, but only on the internet with a dictionary (which is technically illegal, even though it was built into that particular computer game.) So the dictionary was illegal, but I wasn't cheating since it was built into the game... unrelated. Totally without cheating, I score 76 points... on the first word of the game. I AM the word guru.
As I wasn't saying...
I have a secret.
I was never big into roses.
I've never gotten much from them.
They seem too much like overused, pompous, self-centered flowers with delusions of grandeur that think they can capture a woman's heart with their mere presence! Buying a woman a rose (or eleven roses and one counterfeit rose) is so clichéd that it literally takes LESS THAN no effort or creativity. However, women seem to like overused, pompous, self-centered clichés, so, by all means, get your girlfriend a rose! Get her a dozen roses! A dozen lovely smelling roses!
Not that I've ever gotten much scent from roses.
I really haven't.
Granted I've haven't shoved my nostrils cheek-deep into the fumiest of rosebuds and whiffed like there was no tomorrow, but I have "stopped to smell the roses." It was fairly close to odorless. Perhaps there's something wrong with my nose, (in the smelling department not the size and/or shape department) or perhaps there was something wrong with that flower, (mutant roses?) but perhaps the analogy just sucks.
What does it really mean to "stop and smell the roses"? The literalist in me wants to describe keeling down on a muddy path and sniffing flowers of the genus Rosa. The metaphorist (not a real word) in me wants to say that it means we should take time out of our busy schedules to appreciate life, beauty, and... well... roses.
But I was never big into roses.
Besides, sometimes we need more than a snort of rose-scented, pompous, clichéd pollen. (Sometimes we're literally sick of pollen.) Sometimes we need to take a break from our completely whacked-out, crazy-ass routines and do something totally uncalled-for!!! …or at least something spontaneous and strange. Something akin to going to the local overpass and taking a gander at the work of our modern-day Michaelangelos.
So next time you're feeling stressed, depressed, overworked or borderline schizophrenic, I want you to do yourself a favor and stop…
Stop and read the graffiti.
I am upset.
As some of you probably know (though many of you probably don't) Simon Pegg and Nick Frost came out with another movie, Paul. It is not a part of the acclaimed "Blood and Cornetto Trilogy." And that, my friends, is the best thing about it: It is not a part of one of my favorite movie series.
Here's a brief synopsis (stolen from www.kids-in-mind.com a very helpful site):
Two English sci-fi fans (Simon Pegg and Nick Frost) make a pilgrimage to Comic Con and Nevada's Area 51, where they unexpectedly meet one of the legendary "grays," a real extraterrestrial (voiced by Seth Rogen). They agree to a road trip to help the alien escape to a desert meeting place, where his people will take him home, while being obstructed by an FBI Agent (Jason Bateman), Christians, the American government, and assorted others. Also with Kristen Wiig, Bill Hader, John Lynch, Jane Lynch, Sigourney Weaver and Blythe Danner. Directed by Greg Mottola.
The story is old fashioned, I think we've all seen one version or another of new friends helping someone fight for their dreams. It was simple, yes, but had so much potential. They just didn't use it right. The story, overall, was 5/10 stars.
However... the rest of the movie brings that number WAY down.
Let me begin by saying that Paul has moderately clever moments at best, and quite a few funny sci-fi references. But my praise must end there. Most of it wasn't funny. Most of the jokes were either sex jokes (not even funny sex jokes, but just people saying "f***" and grabbing people etc.) and what wasn't a sex joke seemed to be an overtly blatant attack on Christianity.
I'm used to subtle attacks on Christianity, and the portrayal of Christians as crazy. Paul took it a couple (several) steps further. The Christians were six-day creationists, 4,000 year old Earth type. They believe the alien, Paul, is a demon. Paul tells them that his very existence disproves all Judeo-Christian beliefs. What's his big argument? "Evolution, Baby!" They never even stop to think about the fact that evolution and Christianity are not in conflict. One's a scientific theory about how species develop over time, and the other is a belief in a creator. But that's not my beef. I worry about that too much.
What annoyed me was when Paul did a mind-meld with the Christian girl and gave her knowledge and "freed" her from the bondage of Christianity. What did she decide to do with this newfound "freedom"? She decided to "do a lot of [swearing] kissing and fornicating." Some freedom. :P
It wasn't just that the writer's were obviously anti-Christian; it was that the entire movie seemed to be an attempt to make all Christians and Christiantiy seem like crazy, controlling, oppressive and stupid farmers who, although they won't swear, have no problem killing people. o.O That's not the Christianity I know, but that seemed to be the theme of the movie.
At the end when Paul was talking to the Christian girl he said "Sorry I scared you," and she answers, "You didn't scare me, you freed me."
Okay, I know what some of you are probably thinking. "Rafe's OCD and is probably overracting." I questioned myself on that too, and if it were only I that felt this way, I would wonder. However, my sister went to see it with me, and agreed that at some points it crossed the line into blasphemy. In fact it was she who prompted me to write a review.
But what really made me mad was that it was largely unfunny. They mocked Christians at every turn, but they couldn't even do it cleverly. It was, in my mind, a waste of money.
I give it 2/10 stars.
For those of you who are going to ignore my advice and see it anyway, just be warned it is totally not a kids show. Besides the anti-Christian message, it is also full of swearing, and sex jokes, and grabbing people. (They meant that to be funny, but it was mostly just gross.)
Sklent and Roses
However... now to be funny. :)
I'm hoping that from the title you were able to guess that "sklent" is a word. According to the Official Scrabble Dictionary "sklent" means the same thing as "slant." Perhaps this is a common word in your world and you're going "Don't you ever sklent your art to send messages of pain, fear and remorse?" (Which, by the by, I do.) On the other hand, if you're like me, you've never heard the word before and wonder why (WHY???) you've never heard it before... I can't answer that. That, my eager, young pupil, is something you must discover for yourself.
But, next time you're in someone's house and they have a picture hung crooked, tell them their photographs are at a great sklent. See how they react.
In related news, I was playing Scrabble, and had the great fortune to play a 76 point word. If you're not into Scrabble you'll probably say "oh," however, if you, like me, are a word guru, you will know that 76 point words are a bit of a rarity. I've scored higher before, but only on the internet with a dictionary (which is technically illegal, even though it was built into that particular computer game.) So the dictionary was illegal, but I wasn't cheating since it was built into the game... unrelated. Totally without cheating, I score 76 points... on the first word of the game. I AM the word guru.
As I wasn't saying...
I have a secret.
I was never big into roses.
I've never gotten much from them.
They seem too much like overused, pompous, self-centered flowers with delusions of grandeur that think they can capture a woman's heart with their mere presence! Buying a woman a rose (or eleven roses and one counterfeit rose) is so clichéd that it literally takes LESS THAN no effort or creativity. However, women seem to like overused, pompous, self-centered clichés, so, by all means, get your girlfriend a rose! Get her a dozen roses! A dozen lovely smelling roses!
Not that I've ever gotten much scent from roses.
I really haven't.
Granted I've haven't shoved my nostrils cheek-deep into the fumiest of rosebuds and whiffed like there was no tomorrow, but I have "stopped to smell the roses." It was fairly close to odorless. Perhaps there's something wrong with my nose, (in the smelling department not the size and/or shape department) or perhaps there was something wrong with that flower, (mutant roses?) but perhaps the analogy just sucks.
What does it really mean to "stop and smell the roses"? The literalist in me wants to describe keeling down on a muddy path and sniffing flowers of the genus Rosa. The metaphorist (not a real word) in me wants to say that it means we should take time out of our busy schedules to appreciate life, beauty, and... well... roses.
But I was never big into roses.
Besides, sometimes we need more than a snort of rose-scented, pompous, clichéd pollen. (Sometimes we're literally sick of pollen.) Sometimes we need to take a break from our completely whacked-out, crazy-ass routines and do something totally uncalled-for!!! …or at least something spontaneous and strange. Something akin to going to the local overpass and taking a gander at the work of our modern-day Michaelangelos.
So next time you're feeling stressed, depressed, overworked or borderline schizophrenic, I want you to do yourself a favor and stop…
Stop and read the graffiti.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
A Discussion on Roses
Greetings, Evildoers.
I have a secret.
I was never big into roses.
I've never gotten much from them.
They seem too much like overused, pompous, self-centered flowers with delusions of grandeur that think they can capture a woman's heart with their mere presence! Buying a woman a rose (or eleven roses and one counterfeit rose) is so clichéd that it literally takes LESS THAN no effort or creativity. However, women seem to like overused, pompous, self-centered clichés, so, by all means, get your girlfriend a rose! Get her a dozen roses! A dozen lovely smelling roses!
Not that I've ever gotten much scent from roses.
I really haven't.
Granted I've haven't shoved my nostrils cheek-deep into the fumiest of rosebuds and whiffed like there was no tomorrow, but I have "stopped to smell the roses." It was fairly close to odorless. Perhaps there's something wrong with my nose, (in the smelling department not the size and/or shape department) or perhaps there was something wrong with that flower, (mutant roses?) but perhaps the analogy just sucks.
What does it really mean to "stop and smell the roses"? The literalist in me wants to describe keeling down on a muddy path and sniffing flowers of the genus Rosa. The metaphorist (not a real word) in me wants to say that it means we should take time out of our busy schedules to appreciate life, beauty, and... well... roses.
But I was never big into roses.
Besides, sometimes we need more than a snort of rose-scented, pompous, clichéd pollen. (Sometimes we're literally sick of pollen.) Sometimes we need to take a break from our completely whacked-out, crazy-ass routines and do something totally uncalled-for!!! …or at least something spontaneous and strange. Something akin to going to the local overpass and taking a gander at the work of our modern-day Michaelangelos.
So next time you're feeling stressed, depressed, overworked or borderline schizophrenic, I want you to do yourself a favor and stop…
Stop and read the graffiti.
~Magillichetti
I have a secret.
I was never big into roses.
I've never gotten much from them.
They seem too much like overused, pompous, self-centered flowers with delusions of grandeur that think they can capture a woman's heart with their mere presence! Buying a woman a rose (or eleven roses and one counterfeit rose) is so clichéd that it literally takes LESS THAN no effort or creativity. However, women seem to like overused, pompous, self-centered clichés, so, by all means, get your girlfriend a rose! Get her a dozen roses! A dozen lovely smelling roses!
Not that I've ever gotten much scent from roses.
I really haven't.
Granted I've haven't shoved my nostrils cheek-deep into the fumiest of rosebuds and whiffed like there was no tomorrow, but I have "stopped to smell the roses." It was fairly close to odorless. Perhaps there's something wrong with my nose, (in the smelling department not the size and/or shape department) or perhaps there was something wrong with that flower, (mutant roses?) but perhaps the analogy just sucks.
What does it really mean to "stop and smell the roses"? The literalist in me wants to describe keeling down on a muddy path and sniffing flowers of the genus Rosa. The metaphorist (not a real word) in me wants to say that it means we should take time out of our busy schedules to appreciate life, beauty, and... well... roses.
But I was never big into roses.
Besides, sometimes we need more than a snort of rose-scented, pompous, clichéd pollen. (Sometimes we're literally sick of pollen.) Sometimes we need to take a break from our completely whacked-out, crazy-ass routines and do something totally uncalled-for!!! …or at least something spontaneous and strange. Something akin to going to the local overpass and taking a gander at the work of our modern-day Michaelangelos.
So next time you're feeling stressed, depressed, overworked or borderline schizophrenic, I want you to do yourself a favor and stop…
Stop and read the graffiti.
~Magillichetti
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