SORRY!! THE BLACK ONE SOLD OUT!!

THE WHITE ONE ONLY 1 LEFT !! ( stock updated at 4.50am malaysia time )

 Gucci Lady Bag in monogrammed canvas and leather trim
- Brown leather handle with d ring detail
- Classic Gucci print with signature logo on leather trim
- Zip closure with internal pocket and twin mobile phone pocket
- Red, white and forest green stripe internal lining
- Centre 16H cm x 27.5L x 6D CM (handle height 20cm) Approx 400g
- Dust bag included
- Made in Italy
- HURRY! STOCK IS VERY VERY LIMITED!! OFER VALID UNTIL 17/07/08 ONLY!
- For Price: Please mail me at ukgoodies@gmail.com

Aber jetzt sind sie fertig und gar nicht mal so übel:

Mit 2er Nadeln verstrickt, gibt die Wolle ein schönes Maschenbild. Aber wer mag schon mit 2er Nadeln stricken?! ICH NICHT!

Jeg var mye på biblioteket da jeg var liten. Jeg pleide å lese over 100 bøker i året, og jeg vant klassens bokormkonkurranse. Jeg hadde en bok der jeg skrev ned alle titlene jeg hadde lest, samt forfatter og sideantall. Det sier seg selv at når bøker glir ned på høykant, så er det ganske greit å slippe å oppbevare alle bøkene etterpå! Biblioteket er miljøvennlig og sparer mange trær!

Da jeg gikk på videregående og da jeg var student i Trondheim gikk antall bøker og bibliotekbesøk drastisk ned. Det var så mye annet å lese på at jeg fikk dårlig samvittighet om jeg åpnet noe annet enn pensum. Det var bare "lov" i feriene. Jeg merket at jeg savnet det: En "vanlig bok" på alt fra 150 - 600 sider ble lest fra A til Å bare på noen timer, men en pensumbok, den snublet jeg meg igjennom time for time - selv om det bare var 100 sider. Jeg var vel kanskje en av de få som gledet meg til særemnet og leste mer enn de obligatoriske bøkene, nettopp fordi jeg hadde en unnskyldning for å lese "vanlige bøker" som pensum!

Det tror jeg er en av de aller beste tingene med å jobbe. Jeg kan lese på fritiden uten å ha dårlig samvittighet for pensum og eksamenslesing! Derfor har jeg blitt en hyppig biblioteksgjest. Jeg liker stillheten, lukten og de store historiene som finnes i en enkelt bok. Forrige uke fant jeg fram til Berlinerpoplene av Anne B. Ragde. Leste den ut med en gang, og dro raskt tilbake for å låne de resterende to bøkene i trilogien. Men det var bare Eremittkrepsene som sto i hylla. Den nyeste boka, Ligge i grønne enger, var selvsagt utlånt - med 200 mennesker i venteliste før meg...Og hva nå - når Eremittkrepsene slutter midt i en historie, og jeg bare "må" vite hva som skjer videre, og det er 200 mennesker som skal lese denne boka før jeg får svar???

The Wisconsin in Scotland Blog chronicles the experiences and adventures of students studying abroad through the Wisconsin in Scotland program, based just outside of Edinburgh, Scotland. 

This blog is designed for participating students to reflect on their study abroad and travel experiences and for prospective students to learn more about the personal and social aspects of the WIS program from a peer perspective.

The Wisconsin in Scotland program, now in its 22nd year, provides an unparalleled opportunity for educational and personal growth.  Students live and take classes together in the Dalkeith Palace, a 300 year old manor, with faculty and staff members from the U.S. and the U.K.  You can find out more information about the program here!

Ich habe Euch jetzt als "Autoren" eingestuft. Ich hoffe, dass Ihr so selbst Euere Beiträge veröffentlichen könnt.

lieben Gruß

Info:
Wolle: Lang "Super Soxx Color"
Größe: 42-44
64M - 2,5er Nd
Verbrauch: ca.80g
Begonnen: 01.05.08
Beendet: 12.05.08

Especially after writing the tribute column posted here Friday night, I really wanted to indulge my sentimental side and spend Sunday in a type of constructive tribute. Fortunately, I had the perfect material and plenty of it.

Settling into a new apartment is rarely easy, even more so when you are single and relegated to doing the work around a 42- to 44-hour work schedule. On Sunday, however, I was at the point of being ready to put up a few shelves and bring out the bunnies. The poor things have been neglected too long now and it’s high time these assorted figurines, these power symbols of the Rabbit Goddess herself, were brought out to be admired and cherished once more.

So, that work has begun. What I have with me is a sumptuous collection, yet it’s only a small percentage of all that my mom had acquired over a 10-year period. Thank God for two younger brothers when it comes to suddenly having to split up a literal rabbit figurine and collectibles museum.

I think what I miss most about Mother’s Day is the previously mentioned quest for a new rabbit item to present her. Without fail, a big smile spread across her face and her eyes reverted to those of a young child every Mother’s Day, Christmas, Easter, and birthday. I liked making her happy on special days, not that she was unhappy the rest of the year, but it was a wonderful scene as she would ask where I found the gift and, later, show it off to all of her friends in the neighborhood.

There were certain gift shops I could usually count on, both here in North Texas and in Memphis, but I soon learned to scope out other stores. Garden centers, for instance, usually carried rabbit ornaments of some description for the yard or flowerbed. The great thing about Mom is she didn’t care what it was, as long as it had a rabbit prominently depicted.

I’m not a gardener (well, not since I was a child and my maternal grandparents kept a huge vegetable garden), so when it came to divesting the inherited “outdoor” rabbit items, I made a suggestion to my two brothers, who readily agreed.

The morning before we all went our separate ways again, our mom’s four best friends on the block awoke to find a garden rabbit and a Tiki torch sitting in the front yard of their respective homes. It was a way to leave them with a special memory of our mom and the awesome block parties, knowing the likes of neither would ever be seen again in that neighborhood.

Sunday evening, I decided to partake in another tribute to my mom. She enjoyed the regular box of blush or Grenache wine and I can’t remember how many times I would trot off to the nearby liquor store for her. Sometimes I didn’t even have to have any money with me; in yet another example of the high regard the neighborhood held for her, she was the only person anyone knew or remembered being given standing credit at that liquor store.

Well, in honor of her, I went over to Savannah Winery and Bistro and settled on a glass of Messina Hof’s Mama Rosé (how appropriately named), which is actually a white cabernet but with enough characteristics similar to my mom’s favorites. For me, it was just right for raising a very special toast.

The only difference is that I was sipping the wine from a proper wine glass. Mom would have had it in a red Solo Cup.

Next year, I’ll have to think of something else to do to remember her.

I’m not worried, though. Some people just give you plenty of material to work with.

In a perfect world, Terry Britt would open a place called the Ella Faye Britt Memorial Rabbit Museum and Wine Bar. You can reach him at terrybritt@hotmail.com.

]]> http://terrybritt.wordpress.com/?p=24 Sat, 10 May 2008 02:17:44 +0000 terrybritt http://terrybritt.wordpress.com/?p=24 It’s usually not a good idea for individuals to make guarantees, but I feel very safe with this one: This Mother’s Day column will be unlike any other you’ve ever read.

A mother’s love for her child is unending and without parallel, and that is the main reason each of us think our mom is really special. They all are and always will be.

But what if you discovered your mom was like something you had only read about in ancient mythologies, scriptures, folk legends or tales of the Old West?

With that, let me offer you a posthumous introduction to the one and only Ella Faye Britt.

The Rabbit Goddess: Anglo-Saxon mythology included a certain spring-associated female deity named Eostre, who was generally depicted with rabbits by her side (and, yes, this is the pagan origin for the name of our modern Easter).

I’m convinced my mother was a late 20th-century emanation of her, although it didn’t become apparent until about the last decade of her life. I can’t pinpoint exactly when all the rabbit figurines started taking over the duplex my parents had in the Cooper-Young section of Memphis, or exactly when the real rabbits – her “second set of children” – began showing up.

It wasn’t long, though, before a virtual “Bunny Republic” had sprung up within the confines of a white picket fence, with my mom as its energetic, happy ruler. If that sounds a little exaggerated, consider that she had a full-color Peter Cottontail flag hanging outside the main window, embassy-style.

The collection of rabbit items eventually grew to about 3,000 pieces, by an estimate from me and my two brothers, and included not just a lighted display case filled with rabbit figurines, but boxes more of those, coffee mugs, stuffed toys, magnets, pictures and oil paintings, and a handcrafted lamp presented to her as a surprise birthday gift by employees at the custom lighting studio where she worked as a cleaning lady.

She really did love her pet rabbits like children, not just providing food, water, and shelter, but spending time in the yard with them. Needless to say, she was a hit with kids and adults alike in the neighborhood, and more than once she was given a new rabbit when one eventually died.

I’m not sure I’ll ever face a tougher challenge in life than the years I spent trying to find a rabbit item for her birthday, Easter or Christmas that she didn’t already have. Amazingly, I succeeded every time.

I often liked to think she was giving me divine guidance in my shopping.

My Mom Was A Real Clown: No, seriously, my mom was a real clown.

For a few years, she donned the full makeup, wig, big red nose, silly overalls and big shoes and became “Bubbles” – a name she picked to match her signature prop, a handheld liquid bubble blower. “Bubbles” usually made an appearance during special promotions at the gourmet popcorn shop my mom managed for a time, or at birthday parties for children of friends, if requested.

And that wasn’t even the most unusual job she ever held.

After dropping out of school soon after the beginning of her ninth grade term, she took on a myriad of odd jobs to earn money, including a stint as a gravedigger.

I don’t mean backhoe operator, either. I mean old-fashioned gravedigger with a shovel.

If that’s not enough to give you the spinal shivers, try this: While a gravedigger assisting her father (who was the town cemetery’s chief caretaker), she helped exhume and relocate coffins when the town established a new cemetery.

I once asked her if doing that ever gave her the creeps at any point. She looked me straight in the eye and replied, “No, not in the least. Because you know what was in those coffins? Nothing but dust.”

That woman was far wiser than any ninth grade dropout.

But to go back to the clown for a moment, she had a wicked sense of humor that would leap out at the least expected times. My youngest brother discovered that for himself one year during a Christmas visit.

As I and his two children watched, our mother gave him a small rectangular wrapped gift, which he opened to find a stylish silver-plated office pen. He loves those, something she knew, and can’t wait to try out a new one, which she also knew.

Sure enough, he clicked the top and the rest of us in the room got the laugh of our lives when the poor man leapt about a half-foot off the ground from the voltage going through his thumb.

God’s Fountain of Benevolence...: I don’t think I’ll ever know another person – man or woman – who made so certain not to just give pious lip service to charity, sharing, and kindness.

Growing up, I remember a lot of months she opened our home to someone, whether friend or family member, who needed a place to stay for a while. Later on in her life, that generosity didn’t wane.

One day, she and a friend were inside the Cooper-Young duplex getting something together for lunch while holding a yard sale. Looking through the front window, her friend suddenly spotted a strange man rummaging through one of the tables, so she got my mom’s attention.

Apparently realizing he had been spotted, the man jumped the picket fence and started to run, but my mom poked her head outside the door and yelled for him to stop and answer a question. It turned out the man was homeless, and wasn’t trying to steal any of the sale items, but thought there might be a bit of food somewhere on the table.

She didn’t call the police or tell him to go away. She invited him into the house and had him sit while she made him a stack of tuna fish sandwiches. When he had finished eating, she gave him three dollars, which was enough to buy a night’s stay at one of the local shelters.

In summer 2003, the midtown section of Memphis was heavily damaged by a straight-line windstorm that knocked down trees, damaged homes and left people without power for days. By chance of being on a different circuit than the rest of the block, her duplex was one of the few in the neighborhood that still had electricity after the storm, so she made an open invitation to anyone in the dark to come in and cook their food.

A few days later, a utility crew finally made it to her block to repair lines, replace transformers and deal with the removal of a huge oak tree that had been uprooted. She fed the entire crew, some of whom were on a 24-hour shift.

It wasn’t quite the miracle of the loaves and fishes, but I have a feeling they were just as grateful.

Faith and a sense of doing the right thing was of the utmost importance to her, and despite her lack of formal education, she was so deceptively eloquent and convincing as to gain audience with congressmen and newspaper editors to get across her point.

One of the best stories about her was the day she unexpectedly found herself in an impromptu religious debate with a local Muslim man while visiting a friend. According to the friend, she held forth so completely and convincingly on her spiritual convictions that by the end of it, the man proclaimed her to be the most fascinating woman he had ever met.

…And His Terrible Sword of Vengeance: Then again, my mom – 5-8 and a stout build – could just as quickly introduce a person to the true meaning of the fear of God.

There are witnesses to at least two incidents where a man was being helped off the floor of a neighborhood bar after saying the wrong thing to my mom. And those are just the cases I’ve been told about.

People used to think I was joking about my mom walking alone to and from work in Memphis, sometimes leaving the house before sunrise. She told me there was one day when she realized a man was trying to sneak up behind her, but instead of panicking or quickening her pace, she whirled around and growled “You got a problem, MISTER?”

The guy quickly decided he did not want his ass carted to the local trauma center that day, and chose a different direction to start walking.

She would be the first to tell you she had a mean streak that would equal any gunslinger of 150 years ago. I listened to her talk with glee about, as a child, picking up snakes – and half the time not bothering to see what kind she was grabbing by the head – and mercilessly chasing her two older sisters, screaming bloody murder, through the neighborhood.

She also told me about a day at school when a boy thought it would be funny to make her cry by spitting chewing tobacco juice on her shoes. He did, and then stood frozen with horror when my mom jerked the bag of tobacco out of his pocket, dumped a huge chaw in her mouth and then nailed him right between the eyes with it.

At a professional wrestling show she attended as a teenager, she sent one of the wrestlers sprawling to the floor by purposely tripping him as he passed by – just because she didn’t like him.

On the final day of cleaning out the Cooper-Young duplex after her death, I found one of those collectable cigarette tins that had somehow been overlooked with my brothers and other people helping the week of the funeral.

What was inside the box? A switchblade, two pocket knives, two hand daggers, a bootstrap dagger, a six-inch unhandled Bowie blade and one functional stun gun.

I have no idea if the Memphis Police Department was looking for any of those.

Toast Life, Celebrate, Dance: In her final years, my mom and I did a lot of this together and with friends in her neighborhood.

She loved living among friends, conversing, joking, cooking with them and sharing a few drinks. More than anyone else I’ve ever known, my mom understood that you don’t have to have a lot of money to live a wealthy life.

At age 60, the woman was still throwing block parties that would make a grown man cry out of sheer admiration: chicken, catfish, soul food, chips, dips, her own special hush puppies, plenty of beer, margaritas that could have been sold as prescription narcotics, tiki torches and a boombox helping us rock the night away.

Of all the things I never imagined as a kid, dancing with my mom in the front yard at 3 a.m. to Booker T and the MGs is pretty much top of the list.

Other days, she and I just enjoyed sitting together on the front porch, drinking a beer or some wine, and just talking about whatever crossed our minds.

One February afternoon, I had just packed up to return home to Arkansas for the workweek ahead. My only assistant at the newspaper there had left for a better job in Florida, and I was unsure how long it would take to find another.

Before I drove off, I turned back to my mom, still sitting on the porch, and said, “I don’t know when I’ll see you again, but I just want you to know how much I love you and always will.”

It was the last time I saw her.

But like any true legend, not even death itself could completely end her story. The evening after a funeral no one there will ever forget, I was standing on the back porch with one of her best friends, both of us having a beer in commemoration of her.

She turned to me and said, “Terry, I have to tell you a true story that I’ve never told anyone else, because your mom and I were sure people would think we were crazy.”

And that’s when I found out my mom had been involved in an unreported UFO sighting.

The two of them, along with my mom’s duplex neighbor, were on the front porch one night talking when one of them suddenly noticed an eerie set of red lights in the sky to the west, seemingly rotating in a circular pattern. Being in a neighborhood that is beneath one of the flight patterns into Memphis International Airport, they knew it probably wasn’t an aircraft they were staring at.

No one said a word for several minutes. Finally, the friend whispered to my mom, “Faye, what do you think that is?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are we seeing a flying saucer?”

“Maybe.”

More total silence. Then, the friend told me, she and the duplex neighbor suddenly felt a sensation as if their blood had frozen solid in their veins.

But it wasn’t from some ray or force field that had come down from the object off in the western sky. It was because my mom, who had been sitting behind the other two, quietly arose to the top of the steps, and in a voice I’m sure could have been heard three blocks away, yelled “Beam me up, Scotty! I’m ready to go!”

Wherever you are in the cosmos, Mom, I hope you have a wonderful Mother's Day.

Terry Britt has never seen a flying saucer, although some people seem to think he was dropped off by one. You can reach him at terrybritt@hotmail.com.

This column is lovingly dedicated to the memory of Ella Faye Britt (1941-2005).

Dear readers,
We thought you should be the first to know. By the end of this summer we are launching an exclusive version of the Norm 03 lamp designed by Britt Kornum in stainless steel. You may have seen the beautiful reflection from the shade foil lamp, but we can promise you that the steel version makes it even more spectacular.

Even with a standard light bulb the light reflections are quite spectacular.

Norm 03 in steel is a ceiling pendant complete with a fabric cable with incorporated wire. 53 x 32 cm.

We hope you like it :-)

Simeon Castille - Cincinnati Bengals

Matt Caddell - St. Louis Rams

Wallace Gilberry - New York Giants

DJ Hall - New York Giants

Keith Saunders - New England Patriots

Dagen har blitt tilbrakt på ADRA-kontoret og på litt omvisning rundt i byen bakpå en moped. Jeg lurer virkelig på hvor mange mopeder/motorsykler som finnes i denne byen. Tallet er i allefall ikke lite!

Det er mange nye matretter å finne ut av:

Skal det være noen bugs?

Litt for små, sier du? Hva med disse?

Eller kanskje en larve er mer smakfull?

Eller en tørket frosk?

Eller...hmm...dette?

Jeg endte opp med catfish'en nederest på bildet, ris og vegetarsaus på Nats sted. Det var godt!

This is in response to my "What Would Jesus Smoke?" blogposts HERE, as well as my What Would Jesus Smoke (and other Jesus) Flickr images HERE.

These pictures draw "Christian soldiers" from all over the place, causing them to hurl entertaining vitriol in my direction. I fucking love it.

I always thought "Ye who has not sinned should cast the first stone", but hey, Christians don't seem to know much about being Christ-like, just like Muslims don't seem to know much about being Mohammad-like. (And if they did, they would all have 6-year-old wives like Mohammad.) My uncle Sean has already published, analyzed, and commented on this letter, and there are already a few comments over there on his blog. He is more calm and collected, and can say how I feel better than I can. :)

Anyway, this gets ugly. Very ugly. Read on to see the love God puts in all Christians' hearts. (That was sarcasm.)

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.

MY LATEST EMAIL-FROM-A-STRANGER

Anyway, without further delay: Check out this email I received -- straight to my inbox -- in response to these postings.... The bolded part is my favorite / the funniest, and I am posting my friend's responses below as well:

FROM: mandspreston@ntl.sympatico.ca

I see by your page setup how you raise yourself upon a pedestal of narcissistic self indulgence and blasphemy. I'll bet if you were chocolate, you'd eat yourself [Clint's note: That would rule! I'd taste good!]. Although my God, Jehovah, has told me by his inspired word to "Return evil for evil to no one", I can't resist this time in saying that I happily look forward to Jesus' promised return so I can wave goodbye to you as you disappear with all wickedness into the vortex of Jehovah's destruction! And even someone as self-important as you've seem to make yourself has got to know that this sick violent world cannot last unto itself much longer. Change your attitude while you still can. That self-imposed "happiness" you work so hard to portray on the net is just a mask for hatred and prejudism and bias. You're being blinded by Satan, but that's obviously a choice you "intelligently" have made no doubt based on a life experience rich with the devil's education and evil perception.

No, Jesus does not and would not smoke "marijuana". But I can guarantee you something he will smoke..and that is your existence straight into the everlasting lake of fire where your complete and eternal destruction awaits you if you don't make a change very, very soon. [Clint's note: Best. Paragraph. EVER.]

Sincerely and with true Christian Love,
Just another "Christian Troll"

Do not reply. I have blocked your address because I have been guided through God's word to turn my back on apostasy completely.
Besides, you seem to be doing fine having your one-sided say through your vile webpages [ironically, every place I have posted the What Would Jesus Smoke? pictures has open comments section that anyone can reply in!], so I reserve my right to have my one-sided say in sending you this letter.
It's not too late for you, Clint.

I then sent this email to everyone on my Personal Update List (let me know if you want on/off the list), asking them to flame the guy back, since he is blocking my emails. Here are some of the flames sent to him, and some of the responses sent to me. By the way, don't stop reading now. It gets worse below....If you don't like Carolyn being called a whore, you might want to read on.

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A musical intermission from the Westboro Baptist Church: A parody of "We Are The World", which is "God Hates The World". I love religious fundamentalists!

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FRIENDS RESPONSES TO THE DOUCHEBAG

Thanks to Sour Swinger for sending this:

Dear Jesus Fucker,
I'm sorry to inform you that your god has abandoned thee. He feels your sorry ass is nothing but a wasted chunk a dirt. Jesus walks only with those who shall walk in the kingdom of heaven. I am to show you that light does not exist for you. That the dark, bottomless pits of hell await thee upon your death. No praying shall free you of your sins. No preacher, priest, or reverend can save your sole. God so desperately wanted to get rid of yours, he gladly paid me 100 attentional souls. Already, several voodoo doctors curse your body. Your life shall be full of hate, misery, pain and suffering. Haha just joking, I know it already is! I shall await thee at the gates of hell with open hands to further torment your miserable life. Do not try to run, for there is nowhere you can hide. God has already forsaken you from any safe haven you may try to hide in. Try no last pity groveling, for if my eyes don't deceive me Jesus is giving you the finger. Your so called "preaching" and "spreading" the Christian values is nothing but an damn embarrassment. I'll shall see you in Hell Bitch! MWWHhaaa haha ha
-Satan
P.S. - You're a fucking douchebag!

Thanks to Chris W for sending this:

You sir are a douche bag.
I see by your email that you raise yourself up upon a pedestal of narcissistic self indulgence through righteousness and ignorance. You hide behind blind faith pushed upon you by others who had it pushed upon them by others who had it pushed upon them by others and so on and so on. You make yourself feel better by emailing people, threatening them with complete and eternal destruction, and then don't even have the true righteousness to allow him to respond to you. I have personally known Clint for many years and know his beliefs to be anything but one sided. He is more willing and open to discussion than just about anybody I have ever known. However, your cowardly action of threating him with eternal damnation without even truly considering why, and unwillingness to even consider or discuss his beliefs is just one of the many reasons that you will never attain true enlightenment and deserve to burn in a pit of boiling oil yourself.

I can only hope that one of these days you learn to actually pay attention to the world and think for yourself so you can be something other than a mindless member of a cult.
Chris
So why did Michael Jackson get married anyways?
Cause the pope complained that if he kept fucking those little boys he'd have to be ordained.

Thanks to Melanie B for sending this. Unfortunately, the address was terminated for "spam", so this bounced:

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FRIENDS RESPONSES TO ME
(responses to the douchebag follow)

Tabbitha: "hehehehehehhHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHHAhaHHAHAHHAHAHAHA!!!!!! / <cough cough> / hehe / hehehehehehHHHHAHSDHAHDFHHRhfldngsdlnbrdmnb; sklgnmHAHAHHEHAHEHEHHA / That was awesome. / What a douche."

Joe R: "If I were chocolate, I'd totally eat myself."

Susan E: "what a pussy. don't reply? what is he afraid of? " (My response was: "he's scared of me pouring virgin mary's hymen blood onto his penis..")

Sheer Panic: "Honestly, I found it mostly a bit *shiver* disturbing. / You've probably seen me rant on and on in my various web presences about ow much I hate Christians.. this guy is a pretty good example of what I ate about them. Gah. p.s. I don't think it ever says anywhere in the bible that Jesus never parked a bowl. Certainly we know he liked to drink...)"

A.E.: "i'd take it as a compliment =)"

Vicky (+): "Gene Ray’s bastard child?"

Compn: "a canadian?!"

Ian: "You have to admit, though....the ...'he will smoke..your existence straight into the everlasting lake of fire' IS sort of a genius of a segue." [I agree. I told Carolyn, "I wish this would fit on a bumper-sticker!"]

Anonymous: "k, i'll spread his email over every porn site i can find." [Nice.]

Eve: "I'm in process of skimming through Corinthians and James for some appropriate ammunition.... won't be tonight." [If this ever comes to fruition, it will be awesome.]

Mom: "You mean he's just lurching on to web-sites and lashing out at the ones he deems offensive? The world is full of crazies."

Aunt Tatiana: "Ah, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha haa ha ha ha ha ha ha aha hah eheh... Before I enter the fray. Tell me - did you ever know this moron - or was he just trolling around for "apostates"?"

Anna S-P: "HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA". And, later: "Seriously. That made my morning much brighter. Leave it to ol' Jesus to bring a smile to my face. ;)"

Debbie M: "Where the heck did this come from? Someone who read your blogs? That is so insane!!"

Heather J: "Wow.........."

Penny Prophet: "OMG... LOL / another "Christian Soldier" out there "saving" the people they find on the internet, huh? / like how he put "it" in quotes ;)"

Jon B: "I love how he says he blocked your address so you can't respond. "

Ken H: "Why would I email this fine gentleman? He's called out the wrath of god upon you. I have enough people mad at me with his sky ghost getting all pissy to. My god, however, is a merciful if not playful god and will toy with his/your/my souls as he/she sees fit. Hope all is going well with yous guys. Is this supposed to be another pro-taser email? This guy could use a little ECT."

Michelle G (+): "??? / I gotta know what you did to tick this guy off. Shame on you. This guy really showed you. You should thank him for showing you the light and single-handedly saving the entire world by throwing a few fanatical insults your way. / And, I thought I was weirdo. / Maybe I should email the guy and damn his soul for sending such a hurtful anti-God message to one of His children. Love thy enemy and all that jazz. Of course, if you can't love your enemy, just turn them into chocolate and let them eat themselves." [Brilliant! Let them eat themselves!]

Uncle Mike: "No, it is time for you to repent and seek your salvation in the Lord...lol. / Any idea who this idiot is?"

Chris H: "You are awesome. somebody needs to tell cock knocker that Jesus smokes crack. "I LEARNED IT FROM WATCHING YOU, JESUS""

L Dubs (+): "HAHAHA...that is pretty hillarious. Wow. This is my favorite part:" [the part where he said Jesus would smoke my soul into the fire of damnation]

John The Canadien: "dude, "Into the Vortex of Jehovah's Destruction" is the best Scandinavian black metal song ever!!! not only is he a douchebag, but judging by his email address, he's also Canadien."

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HISTORICAL EVIDENCE?

I think now is a good time to point this out:

“Jesus was almost certainly a cannabis user and an early proponent of the medicinal properties of the drug, according to a study of scriptural texts published this month. The study suggests that Jesus and his disciples used the drug to carry out miraculous healings.” - The Guardian - http://www.guardian.co.uk/international/story/0,3604,869273,00.html

http://www.whatwouldjesussmoke.com/
Doesn't your precious little book say that mankind is supposed to use every available flora and fauna?
cannabis.net/articles/jesus-cannabis.html
www.cannabisculture.com/backissues/cc11/christ.html
Cannabis in the bible: www.ccguide.org.uk/bible.php

"Moreover the Lord spoke unto Moses, saying: "Take thou also unto thee principal spices, of pure myrrh five hundred shekels, and of sweet cinnamon half so much, even two hundred and fifty shekels, and of sweet KINEBOISIN two hundred and fifty shekels"

KINEBOISIN, according to the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, is the old name for cannabis [i.e., the marijuana plant] - it was also spelt kannabosm. They claim it was mis-translated in the King James' version of the bible, as "calamus": www.slate.com/id/2162292/?nav=fix

So, even though it was a hypothetical when I thought of "What Would Jesus Smoke?", it turns out that he very may well have used cannabis! Take that, Christian soldiers!

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ANOTHER CRUSADER: TURBO_RELOADED2

Another such Christian warrior douchebag is a Flickr user called Turbo_Reloaded2, who had posted naked pictures of his own baby's ass (which I find gross both because I hate babies, and because I know some pedophiles would be into that, and as a result of me telling him this, Christians were calling me a pedophile, haha). He set the pictures to private after me & Stacy called him on it (and after I favorited it just to creep him out, haha! Score one for immature passive aggressiveness! I also found his youtube account and rated all his videos with 1 star... I'm a passive-aggressive creep like that sometimes.)

Why did I do all this? Well, Turbo_Reloade2 really did not like my scan of a Christian Death postcard (featured to the right), and left the following comment, saying:

You are such a stupid, silly, imbecile ignorant lack of respect, for sure that you have already what you deserve in life. Don't worry, you'll have more.

Of course, I should point out that I did not create the image. I used to listen to Christian Death before, back in the cassette tape days, and eventually decided I didn't really like their music enough to warrant buying it on CD. But that didn't stop me from scanning in my Christian Death postcard during the great postcard scanning, circa 2000. So anyway, I didn't even create the image that pissed him off so much, which is quite funny to me.

But just to add insult to injury, he clicked on the next picture in my photostream. It was a picture of my good [male] friend Stacy. Not content with reading the tags or the caption, this idiot assumed the picture was me, and left another comment:

didn't wait less that this face from you bloody ignorant, you are a real exposure of what you profess, pile of rubbish !!!

Of course, this is from Turbo_Reloaded2, who is too cowardly to post his own face in any of his pictures. So he's willing to make fun of someone else's appearance, but unwilling to share his own. I'm thinking Turbo_Reloaded2 must be a fat fucking piece of shit, but who knows.

Follow the link to see me and Stacy's responses. Stacy's comment response is nothing short than brilliant, especially the part where he says, "I'm going to go ahead and guess I'm less hammered in this pic than you were when you posted that incoherent comment". Me? I don't try to come up with a gentlemanly comeback. I called him a fuckface and told him that tonight I would dine on Jesus's cock while rubbing one off to the naked pictures of his baby. I am not a gentle man.

So, TurboReloaded attacked me, and a random person in my photos. The Bible says "Eye For An Eye", right? So I attacked him, and a random person in his photos. Except the only photos were, as mentioned, his baby, because he is too cowardly to show his own face.

So I found one of the more stupider photos, and said "He looks like he has Down Syndrome", and insult that I've been a fan of since watching Kenny Vs. Spenny, where Kenny frequently says that Spenny looks like David Schwimmer with down syndrome. I also commented on the baby's ass picture and said it was something pedophiles would like. :) Of course these statements were used by the Christians, who then called me a pedophile. I ultimately decided to erase all traces that that ever happened, because I don't like being called that -- and certainly not from pictureless, contactless, "anonymous" flickr accounts.

So finally, a few days later, while I was writing this draft, Turbo_Reloaded2 came up with another comment response shown here (emphasis added):

I am very happy that some small and direct words of my side had cause such distress to stalk me so badly, send your friends to stalk me and considered my baby's pictures (4 months old) as pornographic, you just show people your level and how Marijuana seriously affects the brain. / I really see that you already had what you deserved, and yes please, don't delete your commentaries, are so very enlighten, you look so really amazingly good and intelligent.

Congratulations then, I also will tell some of my friends to visit your great words, and we also are going to have more than a laugh, And even you say my son have Downs Syndrome (thanks God he is and will always be so healthy), I am sure he already is quite such more intelligent than you. / And by the way, I see that the fact that my blog has so many women's friends had stroke you badly uh... To think that obviously you have a full life of abstinence is hard...hahaha.

So pitiful you are, once again, pile of rubbish. Any time, anywhere, with just my small finger I take care of people like you. / Enjoy your pitiful life mate, you have a long way to go in your dirt !

It's particularly funny, because within 30 minutes, Carolyn left a comment saying "Clint doesn't have a life of abstinence. I should know, I'm his wife." And then I pointed out that we've been together for 16 years as of this saturday. And within an hour or so of that, TONS OF COMMENTS FROM LAME CHRISTIANS ON FLICKR WHO HAVE ZERO PICTURES AND ZERO CONTACTS started flooding in. Tons. And, as I mentioned, not a single person had a single photograph. Cowards scared to show their face.

I used to think they signed up JUST to leave comments on my picture, and felt a strange sense of being honored. But after awhile, it became apparent that it was more likely the same idiot signing up over and over under different names. Why do I think this? The same idiotic bad grammar, lack of conjugation, and general lack of a working knowledge in the english language. I copied the comments at the end of the post. Read them and tell me if you think they are by the same person. I tend to think they are. Either that, or his friends are just as "educated stupid" as he is.

The photo quickly became the #1 most-commented-on photo in my whole flickr photostream of 5600+ public pictures. The comments got ugly. Very ugly. Calling my wife a whore ugly. Telling me they would spit in my face if I was there in person ugly. (By the way, a survey I participated in indicated that Catholics are more correlated with the act of spitting on someone than non-Catholics... I wonder if this extends to all Christians? My guess is yes.)

Unfortunately, it got too ugly. And I did too. I finally decided that if someone can't put their own face behind their comments ... That if they have a blank flickr account, with 0 pictures posted, and especially if they also have 0 contacts on flickr -- and then insult me and my wife via that account -- That it's not a "real" account, and I would block them, thus causing all their comments to be erased. Of course I got the last word in, with a form letter I sent to each account prior to blocking it. It was a few paragraphs long but was basically "nanny nanny boo boo, all your work is gone, you wasted your time, more people see my photos due to the interestingness score being raised by all the flame wars, now all your bad comments are gone, but i keep the high picture score. Thank you for your service; far more people will see the picture now".

Anyway, I'm putting my real face behind my sentiments, linking it to my blog, and am "out there". These faceless users have the gall to call me a coward, while hiding behind their own psuedo-anonymity. There's really no reasoning with them, especially when it's the same person signing up over and over again, so I unfortunately had to make them go away.

But I kept the worst of the comments (below).

Check out all the [remaining] comments by clicking the Jesus picture. I told them they were acting more like muslims than christians, which was a statement purposely designed to infuriate them, since most christians of the hateful variety can only imagine a suicide bomber when they imagine a muslim. Fight ignorance with more ignorance. :)

Anyway, look for the "hall of shame" worst comments at the very bottom of the blogpost. They kind of ramble on, so I don't want to incorporate them into the actual body of the post.

IN CASE YOU MISSED IT -- CLICK HERE FOR THE PHOTO !!

And yes, I know that by replying to them, I was giving them more fuel to reply back. I really didn't want to give them the last word, as it was MY forum, I get the last word, just like Jerry Springer or Bill O'Reilly. It's not a neutral forum.

I wanted to avoid blocking, but unfortunately it became quite necessary. The fact that I am defending myself undoubtedly reduces my credibility to those human beings that fall prey to the "people defending themselves must be guilty" aspect of human nature, as well as the people who think that "once you call someone a name, you've lost the argument", as well as the people who will only fight for someone on their side if that someone's debate style is as civilized as theirs. As if debate style has anything to do with the underlying message.

I happen to think right and wrong are independent of debate methods. Debate methods are just protocols for exchanging criticism of ideas. The protocol is independent of the data it transmits. People don't get this. You can't judge a book by its cover any more than you can judge the underlying truth of a debate by the debate style. But I see now that a civilized style is necessary to convince "debate snobs" who didn't grow up in the trenches of the local BBSing scene.

Oh well. I live by my own rules, and one of those is never missing an opportunity to tell someone they are wrong. However, even that can get damn old after awhile.

Anyway, a couple small anecdotes, and then the terrible comments can be found at the end of this post.

I was also commented on by some redneck with the username of Terry Lee Stoudt who has since removed his comment. But not before I went through his pictures, and found out that the troll actually has a cousin named Bobby Jo. I left a pithy comment and got blocked. :) But check out Bobby Jo!! Hehehe

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A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE??
(the strangest thing yet!)

I meant to blog about this on Christmas Day, but to give Christians some credit, one such Christian user, named yeshuaishi, actually left a positive comment on my Christian Death postcard of Jesus injecting himself. It read:

some may find this offensive, horrifying, & even blasphemous, but, this is a very accurate depiction of what happens when one of the body of christ is persecuted by these devices of the devil...... "jesus christ is the savior of all men, especially those that believe"(n.t.) & "no problem is too hard for god"(o.t.) "let us pray for all men everywhere"(n.t.) sincerely, amen, yeshuaishi

A Christian leaving a positive comment on a non-Christian's blasphemous picture, on Christmas Day. If that's not a Christmas miracle, I don't know what is.

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THE BLASPHEMY
(click pictures to get to flickr comments)

He died for Todd's sins.

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PARTING THOUGHTS
APPROPRIATE LYRICS

OK. I'm done now. But here are some parting lyrics from Voltaire's song "Hell In A Handbasket". I just saw him play this (1 man show) live at Spellbound last weekend, and was proud that he looked into my eye when he said "And you":

I'm goin to Hell, in a handbasket.
And I'll have good company too.
'Cause If I was so bad, than there's no need to be sad.
'Cause everybody else will be there too (Including You*).

*That's when he gave me eye contact. I was front-row so there was no mistaking it.
(Later he told me I was sexy and spent way longer on my autograph than Carolyn's.)

Full lyrics can be found HERE .. for now. If you really want to find lyrics, download the program called EvilLyrics.

My favorite lyrics from the song (these are not the full lyrics):

I've been a sinner.
I've been a saint.
Done both good and evil deeds.
Oh, but in the end, I was good to my friends
and that's good enough for me.

Oh good Lord, they say all souls you forgive.
Well if that's true then why
does there need to be a hell?

No this ain't no lie, I'd rather be Kentucky Fried
Than live and kicking in Jersey any day

No this ain't no fib, I'd rather be a splatter on the Devil's bib.
'Cause on my knees repentin' ain't my style.

Oh, oh good Lord, I only ask you forgive
The self righteous who decieve
When your words they twist,
We both know Hell don't exist,
Except in the minds of the poor fools who believe

joey the great seems to think Jews believe Jesus didn't exist, when in fact they just don't believe he is the son of god:

The topic is simple, speak about Jesus and Cannabis is stupid cause is impossible and anybody with the less knowledge of history or common sense will know it. To say the University of Israel is supporting this is so stupid as specifically the Jews never had recognized the existence of Jesus and the pitiful webpage will not fool anybody with 3rd degree of primary school.

and is joey_the_great trying to say "cheek"? wtf?:

The concept that Christians has to love the neighbour put the other chick and etc is quite stupid and once again the people that argument this also knows nothing about even what they are criticizing.

Insulting my wife is a good way to get blocked:

About your wife Clint, no, is not hot man, it looks like a very long time drug addict that has never done any exercise that is not to fuck... as you, and no, I don't care, just to be fair and sincere.

...though his insult is barely comprehensible.

Anyway... I sit with bated breath wondering when the next christian assault is led on me. :)

Before, I made the funny images because it was my own idea, and I wanted it for myself. But now, a salvo was fired in my wife's direction, and a war is on. I have to wonder what other offensive religious images I can construct now. Jesus involved in gay sex? Jesus snorting lines of coke? Jesus raping a baby? The possibilities are endless!

But why even bother? There's a treasure-trove of material already out there:

Back in those days if you went up in May when the yellow pickerel were running there would be at least 500 fishing parties camped out on the islands & all the lodges were booked years ahead.

This area & The Moon River area of Georgian Bay were the hottest big yellow pickerel fishing in all of Canada for many years.

Fifteen to seventeen pound yellow pickerel were common & very few would run under six pounds when they came out of the big lake & started up the rivers to spawn.

Fishermen would be trolling all over the area & any lure would do but most used the floating black & silver floating Rapalas.

You could easily get your limit in an hour or two or catch & release large numbers in a days time.

When a fishermen got a hook up they would yell out "Fish On".

We carried on that tradition & always yell out fish on when we get a hookup.

One year one of the guys that went with us tied on a small yellow Rooster Tail & he hooked one pickerel after another & out-fished all of us with six pound line & ultra light rod.

He used the same lure all week & had it when he left minus a few tail feathers.

When we first started going up to the Key River Mrs. Lyttle owner of Key Harbour Lodge was very nice to us & took use under her wing.

She knew we were young & inexperienced & worried about us just like any mother would her own children.

We always enjoyed going to the lodge to see the big fish pictures & chat with the experienced fishermen that were staying there.

We would go in the evening when they came in from a days fishing & that way we could see what they got & find out where.

They had an Indian Guide named Ivan & he told us to get there early in the morning & we could follow him when he took out fishing parties & he would lead us to all the hot spots in the area.

No one knew more about the area than Ivan & probably never will.

Ivan told us to always use twenty pound line in Georgian Bay & he only used one lure A red & white Daredevil the medium or next size down from the standard size model & he always had a wire leader.

Mrs. Lyttle's son Al grew up at the lodge & trapped the area for many years & he had a cabin out on the islands where he & his family lived.

He also showed us where to go & he would help us fix our boat motors when we had a problem.

Mr. Lyttle had a stroke & lived at the lodge until he passed away at which time she put the lodge up for sale & retired.

Mrs. Lyttle always treated us special even though we never stayed at the lodge & went out of her way to teach us things & caution us about weather & cold water & the dangers of small boats in Georgian Bay storms & bears & rattlesnakes.

She told us to leave some bacon & grease out overnight in a skillet if we wanted to see a big black bear in our camp & warned us about not cooking or leaving anything in our tents that had an odor including soap & things like that.

She told us black bears in Georgian Bay can get real nasty when cornered so we should always give them a quick way out if we got one cornered by accident walking around the islands.

One time we told her the pike were not hitting.

She laughed & told us to catch a few live perch & put them in a minnow bucket & put one out set four foot deep on a bobber & then come back & tell her what happened.

Boy did we.

One ten to fifteen pound pike after another right off the bank at our campsite.

From that time on when we told her we got a big pike trolling or casting lures she would always smirk & say "Sure You Were Not Using A Live Perch?".

The Lyttles ran the lodge for many years & all of them were top notch people that helped us every way they could.

They went out of their way to teach us everything they knew.

They always had a big smile when we returned each year.

They also had a pay telephone if we needed to call home for anything.

If you are not the wilderness camping type The Key Harbour Lodge is a great place to stay & learn the area.

You can catch big pickerel in the bay at night when they are running & also really big pike over twenty pounds.

They also have guides & tackle & gasoline.

Yo can fish the areas we fish from Key Harbour Lodge & even run out to The French & Bad River Areas or Bustard Islands when the weather is right if you have a deep boat & 25 HP motor.

We always camped out there when we went because of our small motors.

If you are after largemouth this area is better than The French or Bad River area if you know where to go.

The smallmouth fishing is good out there but the water is to cold for largemouth & they are hard to locate out in the big water areas & bays.

For largemouth go back in & find the warm water bays & swamps with lilly pads with six to ten feet of water nearby.

Low Water Conditions: Mrs. Lyttle told us years ago that Georgian Bay has a 35 year water cycle where it goes up for 35 years & then down for 35 years.

If her theory is correct & I believe it is the water levels in Georgian Bay should start going back up again in the next few years as the water started to go down slowly when we first started going up so the down cycle should be about over.

The water has really been low over the last few years & that hurts a lot of the really good bass holes many of which may be high & dry.

The bass are still around somewhere so you just have to find them.

When we were young & full of vigor we would fish from sun up to sun down.

One year one of the local Indians stopped by our boat & simply said:

If the fish ain't biting boys "Why Don't You Leave Them Alone?"

He said he drops his worm down & if he gets one right away he keeps fishing & if not he pulls up his line & goes home & drinks a couple of beers.

He knew no one could make a fish bite.

We found that out the hard way but it was sure fun trying.

Maribou Jigs set three feet deep on weighted small round bobbers work best in weed beds.

Small Mr. Twister Grubs & special crappie tube jigs work well also.

Live bait fishermen use minnows & bobber & they can get their limit in a hurry on a good crappie hole.

We use light outfits with six pound test Stren line.

One to three pound Black Crappie are common & when they are hitting you can catch all you want.

Check with local stores or lodges for information on the best places & time.

The Georgian Bay Bass Hole is full of them in Spring & summer & fall.

There is a pan fish hole on The Key River that is full of Big Crappie & pan-fish & the kids can catch them on small twister grubs one after another.

The Key River is full of crappie & you have to know where to find them in backwater bays out on Georgian Bay & around islands.

Ontario Big Fish Records

Georgian Bay Bass Hole

We have caught black crappies up to 3 1/2 pounds.

The Georgian Bay is full of really big Blue Channel Catfish & we have caught many over the years.

All you have to do is put out a live fish on a bobber at your campsite & leave it out overnight.

Tie your pole down or it will be gone in the morning.

The best place to catch them is below falls or rapids of any type fishing at night.

They hit night crawlers or minnows or any type of live fish or crawdads, etc.

The catfish my son caught could be a record at 40 pounds as they do not list Blue Catfish as a species in Ontario which would make it a channel catfish for sure & probably one of the niggest ever taken.

I doubt that we even thought about it at the time.

Channel Catfish

Blue Catfish

You tell me? Were these Blue Catfish Or Channel Catfish?

Georgian Bay Bass Hole